How to insult God

We've been studying Isiah in bible study. last night we read about Sennacharib and his insults to God. I remembered a poem I studied at school a long time ago and looked on the internet for it. I was inspired again.


The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold . . .
This hexagonal clay prism (often called the Taylor prism) records the deeds of Sennacherib -- an important figure in the Old Testament. I saw this piece when I was at the Oriental Institute on Saturday but wasn't able to get a good photo. Here's the commentary from the Oriental Institute:
On the six inscribed sides of this clay prism, King Sennacherib recorded eight military campaigns undertaken against various peoples who refused to submit to Assyrian domination. In all instances, he claims to have been victorious. As part of the third campaign, he beseiged Jerusalem and imposed heavy tribute on Hezekiah, King of Judah-a story also related in the Bible, where Sennacherib is said to have been defeated by "the angel of the Lord," who slew 185,000 Assyrian soldiers (II Kings 18-19).
There is a complete translation of all six columns at the Sennacherib Prism site where I found the photo. And here is Byron's poem, "The Destruction of Sennacherib," to complement it:

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
-- George Gordon Lord Byron (1788-1824)

Perhaps I have ceased to exist

This morning (Monday of course) I came in to work to sign in as usual. My name was not on the list. I checked both lists, departmental and governing body but my name was not there. So I signed underneath the list of names.
Now I've got to my computer and came to check my e mails. The computer does not recognise my name and password. Perhaps I have ceased to exist? Perhaps I have been deleted.
Some say that the whole world is a figment of God's immagination. Perhaps I never was.
Would it make a difference to the world if I never was? However, I blog. Therefore I am.
Now that I am, can I make a difference or would it be the same as if I had never been?

Things aren't always as bad as they seem

Sometimes we think God had forgotton us when things don't turn out as we think they should. If you have faith, you just need to trust that every outcome is always to your advantage. You might not know it till some time later.

Should you find it hard to get to sleep tonight, just remember the homeless family who has no bed to lie in.

Should you find yourself stuck in traffic, don't dispair. There are people in this world for whon driving is an unheard of privilege.

Should you have a bad day at work, think of the man who has been out of work for the last three months.

Should you despair over a relationship gone badly, think of the person who has never known what it's like to love and be loved in return.

Should the car break sown, leaving you miles away from assistance, think of the paraplegic who would love the opportunity to take that walk.

Should you notice a new grey hair in the mirror, think of the cancer patient in chemo who wishes she had hair to examine. Should you find yourself at a loss and pondering, "What is life all about, what is my purpose?", be thankful. There are those that didn't live long enough to get that opportunity.

Shuld you find yourself the victim of other people's bitterness, ignorance, smallness or insecurities, remember that things could be worse. You could be them.

Should you stop and realise that things aren't always as bad as they seem, then you can begin with a renewed spirit to help yourself as well as those who are less fortunate.

I found this photocopied on one of my husband's files. I thought it was worth posting.

Noah's Diamond

I am writing a book. I am almost finished. My best friend showed me a competition for an unpublished novel so I have entered. I had to write a 500 word synopsis. I thought I might just as well post it to my blog.


"Noah’s Diamond" by Jenny Lee Young

“When the world ended, there was no warning!”

In the year 2036 in post-AIDS South Africa, Margaret Jasper, a science teacher, takes a group of Pioneer girls to a winter camp. Her assistant, Thumu Sizwa, mother of two of the Pioneer girls, has organised a trip to the Noah’s Diamond Complex during the camp.

Noah Abernathy, an eccentric American billionaire, had been convinced that God had told him to build a nuclear shelter to house his family in the event of nuclear war. South Africa seemed tactically to be the safest area to situate this technologically advanced, computer-controlled safe-haven. However, the threat of nuclear war diminished to almost zero and Noah Abernathy died, leaving the Diamond Complex to the family in a trust, with a proviso that a member of the Abernathy family always live there. They decided to turn the complex into a tourist attraction.

With much anticipation, Margaret and the girls take a tour of Diamond One. Their tour guide is Lindy-Lou Abernathy, the pregnant and unmarried granddaughter of the late Noah.

During their tour, the party is jolted by an earth-shattering explosion, causing Diamond One to automatically seal. News broadcasts are garbled but Margaret gets glimpses of a world in crisis – collapsed buildings, fires, dead bodies, screaming people……….

At first the adults react to the situation as a tourist gimmick and then a temporary glitch that will soon be repaired. However, after five days, what they all secretly feared turns out to be true. The interactive function is again up and running and they are informed that the rest of the world is dead or dying due to massive nuclear explosions and the resultant radiation in the atmosphere.

The fate of humanity rests in the hands of this group of teenage girls. They are in many ways an ill-assorted bunch, including Beth, a blind but privileged girl, Martha Malobi, the ex-drug addict, Mara, who suffers from depression, the street-wise Britney Adams and her naive friend Sharon who has encountered love for the first time. The only hope for the continuation of the human race lies in Lindy-Lou’s unborn baby. If only it is a little boy!

Is there a chance for the human race? What is the smell that reminds Beth of Christmas? Who slashed Mara’s best painting? What is Sharon’s hidden secret? Can Margaret lead the group through near mass euthanasia, deliberate vandalism, fire, relocation and even attempted murder?

Find out in this gripping South African Science Fiction Novel. Celebrate the power of women! Appreciate the contribution that Youth can make to society. Come and enjoy the technological delights of the future with the last members of the human race.

My Mission Statement

I wrote my mission statement in January 2000.

Acknowledging that I am a special and unique creation of God, made with purpose and endowed with many special gifts, my mission is to realize my full potential and to use my gifts for the enabling and building up of others.

My most important "Other" is my husband. With him I will build up a strong, loving relationship, striving to strengthen and encourage him and to make him supremely happy. We will have fun together and make happy memories, remembering that we will not always be together.

My children will also not be with me for long. I will enjoy them, delighting in the unique characters God has given them, building strong relationships and happy memories, and inspiring them to reach their full potential.

Friends are important to me. I regard people as more important than things or tasks. Listening is more important than talking. When I do talk, may it be more uplifting than tearing down. I shall value my friends and work towards inspiring and enabling them.

My word is my bond. What I promise I will do to the best of my ability.

I am proactive. I can choose how to react.

In the world I shall endeavour to bring encouragement, support and strength to those I encounter, like water quietly seeping into the earth and refreshing flowers.

In my work I shall endeavour always to give my best and to ensure that my employer gets value for their money.

I believe in and admire truth, honour, courage, faithfulness, kindness, gentleness, patience and self control and will do my best to incorporate them into my life. However, the overriding principle must be love.

I have invited Jesus Christ into my life. He is my final authority, Lord and guide. The bible is my handbook on right living.

I realize that other people will not have my mission, nor my values, but I accept that they, too, are created by God for a purpose.

Message to my unborn Grandchildren in New Zealand.

Message to my unborn Grandchildren in New Zealand.

Hi Guys. I am writing this before you were born or even conceived. I just want to tell you I love you. You might not think so because I am never there. When your nursery school has “Granny’s Day” and all the other kids come with their Grannies, I am not there. When you are the star of the school play or playing your first cricket match or first ballet concert, I am not proudly watching from the side lines whispering to all nearby, “That’s my Grandchild.”

You probably do not know me. Perhaps in my lifetime I have seen you once, or perhaps twice if my finances are much better than expected. More than likely this was when you were very young, a baby probably, and you don’t remember.

I have photos of you. I carry them around with me all the time and I look at them often. I try to imagine you as you are growing up and I remember what your Daddy was like at your age. Your Daddy is my son and I have loss of memories of him when he was your age. Unfortunately I won’t have many memories of you – only photos and perhaps letters or e mails.

Your Daddy and Mommy decided they wanted the best for their children. They did not want them to grow up in South Africa where they were born because there is a lot of crime in South Africa. All the houses have high walls, sometimes with barbed wire or electric fences around them. Still people rob and steal. They break into our houses and cars. Sometimes they threaten us with guns if we don’t give them our jewelry or cell phones or let them drive away in our cars.

Your parents wanted you to grow up in a safe country.
So they decided to move to New Zealand. Unfortunately New Zealand is very far away from South Africa and it costs a lot of money to get there. That’s why you don’t know me and have hardly ever seen me. You also have some cousins in South Africa that you don’t ever get to play with. But you do have friends. I’m sure of that.

How can I love somebody I don’t even know or who doesn’t even exist yet. I know I will love you because you are my grandchildren. Whether you are good, or not, whether you are pretty or not, whether you are clever, or not.

In the same way God loves you. Not because of anything you have done, but just because you are His child. I am always praying for you. I pray that you might accept Jesus into your heart and into your life, that you might be the best you that you can be, that you might grow up with confidence and courage.

Your loving Granny

Snow at Zoo Lake.

South Africa is not a country known for snow. In my fifty odd years it has snowed four times in Johannesburg. Once when I wan in primary school and we went away on a school tour. While we were away on tour, it snowed back home in Jo’burg. Once when we had moved to Port Elizabeth, it snowed in Jo’burg. Last year I watched snow falling lightly and gently to the ground then melting immediately.
Last night it snowed. My husband, Brian, phoned to say that he had seen it on his way to work.. About an hour and a half later I drove to Zoo Lake to have a look. Sure enough. There it was. Enough snow on the ground to make a snow ball. We were not the only ones who had come out to look. Mothers were helping children make little snow men. Boys of about twelve had rolled a snowball as big as a soccer ball. I hoped it was for a snow man’s head and not a frozen missile.
Although it was freezing cold outside and our shoes and gloves got wet, it was worth venturing outside to be able to see snow – in Sunny South Africa. Mind you, it was sunny. The blue sky made a stark contrast to the white ground and leafless winter trees.

Water

I have a water feature in my garden. Listening to the sound of running water always inspires peace. Yesterday while drinking coffee in the garden and listening to the water I got to thinking how wonderful water is. It is a miracle. Made chemically from hydrogen, the simplest element and probably the first one around, and oxygen, a much more advanced element but so necessary for life on earth. Oxygen must have been around before water.

Before anything was created (or evolved if that is your faith view), there would have had to be water. All living things are made primarily of water, plant, animal and unicellular organisms. Water keeps us alive. Water comes down from the sky in the form or rain (mostly) and gives life to earth. Primary school children learn about the water cycle. No new water is created. It is all recycled by the process of evaporation and condensation.

Water is the only compound known that if you cool it, does not continue to contract. At 4 degrees C it reaches its most dense then if it is cooled further, it begins to expand. That is why ice floats on water. It is unique in this respect.

God is like water. The Father, the author of life is the liquid form, available everywhere, giving life and sustaining life. The Son is the solid form, ice. Under certain circumstances ice becomes solid. We can handle with our hands, pick up, break and manipulate ice. The Holy Spirit is steam, not always visible but powerful in action. Think of steam turbines. One substance but three phases.

Water is a miracle. Water is life.

Sweetpeas

I have planted some sweetpea seeds. The plan is that in Spring, they will climb up the wrought iron barrier around our front porch. It occurs to me that planting seeds is an act of faith. What is to say that these tiny shrivled balls will really grow to be climbing plants with fragrant flowers? It seems so unlikely. Especially if you've never come across seeds before.
It is faith that encourages me to water them. In my mind's eye I can already see them adding colour to the front of my house. That is faith. I believe the coloured pictures on the front of the seed packet. I believe that if I follow the instructions, I too will get a harvest of fragrant flowers. Faith isn't so difficult, is it?

The Tablecloth

This is a story I read a long time ago and was not able to find again. Now I'm going to store it in my blog for when I want to be inspired.

Pastor Rob Reid, right out of divinity school and fresh from ordination, was assigned to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn. He arrived in early October, excited about his opportunities. His new church building was very run down, in need of a lot of repairs. Undaunted, he set a goal to have everything done in time to give his first service on Christmas Eve.
He worked hard, shoring up pews, plastering walls, and painting. On December 18th, he was just about finished – ahead of schedule. But the next night, a driving rainstorm blew into the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, Rob stopped in at the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary, just above the pulpit. The young pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and, wondering if he should postpone his opening service, headed home.
On the way, he noticed that a local business was having a flea market as a benefit for charity; he stopped in. One of the items for sale was a beautiful, handmade tablecloth. It was ivory colored, its border exquisitely crocheted in beautiful, muted colors. There was a cross embroidered right in the middle. He held it up and an idea formed in his mind: It just might cover up the mess on the church’s front wall. He bought it and, guardedly excited, headed back to the church.
It began to snow as he pulled up to the church. As Rob got out of the car to go into the church, an old woman passed him, walking quickly in the opposite direction, trying to catch the bus. She missed it. Rob invited her to wait inside the church for the next bus, which wouldn’t be coming for another forty-five minutes.
The old woman sat down in a pew to wait, and paid no attention to Rob as he set up a ladder and climbed up to hang the tablecloth. It fit! The ruined plaster and paint were completely covered. And it looked beautiful.
The old woman looked up, stood slowly, and walked toward him, down the center aisle. Her voice sounded strained as she asked, "Pastor, where did you get that tablecloth?" Rob explained. The old woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials "EBG" were embroidered there. They were.
These were none other than the old woman’s initials, she said; it was she who had made this very tablecloth thirty-five years earlier, in Austria. She could hardly believe it as the pastor told her how he had come across the tablecloth. The old woman explained that, before the war, she and her husband were a well-to-do young couple, living in Austria. When the Nazis came, she was forced to flee. He husband planned to follow her the next week, but she was captured, sent to a camp, and never saw her husband or her home again.
Rob insisted on giving her the tablecloth; she, in turn, insisted that he keep it for the church. He asked if, at the very least, she would let him drive her home; she lived across the city and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job. She agreed.
And then it was Christmas Eve. Rob stood in the pulpit before the little congregation of his new parish, beaming with pride. It was a wonderful service. At the end of the evening, he greeted everyone at the door; many said they would return. One old man, whom Rob recognized from the neighborhood, continued to sit in his pew. When Rob went to speak with him, the old man asked him where he had gotten the tablecloth on the front wall. It was identical, he said, to the one that his wife had made years ago, when they lived in Austria before the war. How could there be two tablecloths so much alike?
He told Rob how the Nazis had come, how he had urged his wife to flee for her safety. He was supposed to follow her, he said, but had been arrested by the Gestapo and put in prison. He never saw his beloved wife or his home again. Thirty-five years had passed.
On that night of miracles, Pastor Rob Reid asked the old man if he would come with him for a little ride. He drove to the same house where he had taken the old woman, three days earlier. He helped the old man climb the three flights to the old woman’s apartment, and knocked on the door. And there, he witnessed yet another Christmas miracle.

Murder Mysteries and Science Expos

Yesterday was a different day. The plan was reasonably simple. As it was a Tuesday, I had a standing appointment with my best friend for coffee and praying for our families. In the evening we had planned a family Murder Mystey dinner to celebrate my daughter-in-laws Birthday. A Tuesday evening was not ideal - a weekend would have been much better - but it was the only day close enough to her birthday that we could all make it. We had decided to start early - 6pm- which meant that those husbasnds who worked in the city would have to rush home. I told my best friend that I had a lot of things to prepare (including a peppermint crisp pudding for desert) and I would only come to her for an hour between 3pm and 4pm.





After work (I work at a high school and we are writing exams so I got to get out of the gate soon after 2) I quickly made a detour to "Showbiz" where I planned to buy some stick on moustaches and a pith helmet for our Murder Mystery.





As I was driving, my cell phone rang. I try not to talk on the phone while I'm driving so I let it take a message. When I had parked at Cresta, I listened to it. It was Lois, a lady who had been a judge when I had organised our school's Science Expo. The arrangement had been that she would judge our Expo and I would come and help judge at her school's Science Expo.


"Just wanted to confirm for this afternoon" the voice message blared at me. In the stress of our Expo, where one judge hadn't pitched and I'd had to do collateral damage control, I had omitted to transfer the details into my cell phone's calender and subsequently had totally forgotton it.



I phoned her back, established that they did really need me, and changed plans.



I prayed that I would not stress. I repeated to myself a modified line I had once come across of psalm 23. "The Lord is my Pacesetter, I shall not rush." As the traffic continued to crawl down Jan Smuts Avenue, and the time continued to race beyond the starting time, I continued to recite the line to myself.

I was only 15 minutes late for the Expo and they had barely started. I managed to enjoy interacting with the students and being amazed at what they had come up with. I had been told that I could prabably be gone by 6, even though the Expo continued till 7 but at 6 o' clock we stil had four projects to judge. The last one turned out to be the best of the batch. It was very inspiring, but I had to excuse myself and rush away. I figured if traffic was reasonable, I could still be home at quarter to seven and change into my character before everybody came at seven. Then I remembered. We had agreed we would start at six. I had to stop myself from breaking the speed limit and jumping robots. There was nothing I could doa about my lateness, I was going as fast as I could.

The family were wonderful. The peppemint crisp tart was delicious. The table was set and the diningroom decorated to suit the theme. Everybody was understanding and we had a great evening. Although I would not like to make a habit of arriving late for my own organised dinner, it did show me that I was not indispensible and any old person could make a peppermint pudding. Quite often stress and the rushing syndrome is all in our minds. We would do well to remember that God controlls the universe. time is in His hand and He has plenty of it.
"The Lord is my pace setter. I shall not rush."

Treasures in Heaven.

Jesus said we must lay up treasures for ourselves in heaven. Every time we do something kind for somebody, or give to somebody, we are making a deposit in our heavenly bank account. Recently I got cynical when a man came to the door with a sob story about how he was mistreated in his own country and by our police because he was an illegal immigrant. My husband gave him a suit so he could go to a job interview.

Unfortunately for him he also went and gave a different sob story to my friend down the road. He told her that he had been given a suit and had sold it. He was just conning us.

But it occurred to me, if I do somebody kind and he takes advantage of me, if he makes a fool of me because I believed his story, what's happened to my treasure in heaven? It's still there. I may look a gullible fool on earth, but my investment in eternity has not diminished.

Spare wheels and twelth man

Today my husband went to buy a spare wheel for our new caravan. It's not really new, but it's the one we bought to replace the one the insurance wrote off. (A strong wind blew the front window in, causing the top to pop and messing up the securing works.) I thought about spending hundreds of Rand on something we might never use. It reminds me of the time my sporty son was playing cricket and he had to go to a match as twelth man. He didn't want to go. He would be bored just sitting watching other eleven year olds play. I had to explain to him that a twelth man was a very important part of the team. All he had to do was pitch up. A team was not complete without a twelth man. That same day I was on healing duty at church in the evening. Iknew very well that there would probably be no one to pray for because it wasn't a "youth thing". I didn't feel like going. I had been to church in the morning and I would be bored. I thought about what I had told my son. "Sometimes we just have to pitch up, whether we are used or not."
Sometimes God just wants us at a certain spot at a certain time. Sometimes our job is just to be the twelth man, the back up. Sometimes we are the spare wheel. We might think it's not important, but it is. Our whole caravan won't be going camping this weekend if my husband doesn't get the spare wheel.

More balloons!

I've been thinking a lot about balloons. They are nothing but a thin sheet of coloured rubber mouled to a specific shape for a specific purpose. You buy them in a packet and they don't look all that exciting. But once they are blown up, they take on a whole new life - they bounce, they float, they can be attached to walls by static.
We are a lot like balloons. WE are created for a specific purpose, in different colours and shapes. It is only when the Spirit of God blows into us that we can achieve our true potential. We can do a whole lot of new things we never could before. The more we allow God's Spirit into us, the more we can live the abundant life - the Party Life.

Yesterday's Balloons.

There is nothing as depressing as half blown balloons hanging limply from the postbox. Yesterday was my son's twentieth birthday. Fourteen people had confirmed. The plan was to go to Emerentia Dam with the boat, have fun out of doors, have a picnic. Then come back and watch videos. By leaving time there were four people, including my son, Chris, and his girlfriend, Geraldine. Some of the others had to be phoned to find our whether they were coming. One was visited because her phone was out of order.
My husband had got the boat down from the rafters with the help of Chris and his best friend, Mavuso, and attached it to the trailer so we could tow it to the dam.
It never went. Three more people drifted in and out. They watched movies and a bit of rugby.
I thought of all the preparations. Chris had asked me to buy 36 rolls. Geraldine, his girl friend,had made two big salads, a cake, muffins. She was the one who hung out the balloons.
Today Chris and Geraldine took ham rolls to all the beggars and security guards they could find.
My husband and I are eating a lot of salad. The lettuce gets fished out as it turns brown.
What went wrong? Or is this standard for modern day parties?