What they do not tell you about quantitative easing is that it results in qualitative easing.
_When late to church..._ _...the peace of Sabbath rest is far more elusive._ _...normally kind parents put stumbling blocks of frustration before young worshipers._ _...__the command to treat others (i.e. fellow drivers) as you want to be treated is easily forgotten._ _...the desire to see others changes into the desire not to be seen by others._ _...warm greetings become embarrassing smiles._ _...the latest announcements turn into missed opportunities._ ..._God's special call to worship and to know Him is not heard by you._ _...praises around His throne are lacking your voice._ _...confession of sin is not made or assurance of pardon received by you._ _Can we really afford to be late to church?_ _<!--more-->_
"We must go through the school of prayer, or we shall never be fit for the holiday of praise.”
_We now understand more about cimex lectularius than we ever hoped to know. That's the fancy name for a fierce little critter you would call a bed bug, which invaded our home following a conference this summer. As we still have people asking how our battle against them is going, we would __publicly __like __to declare victory. But it came with a big price - vigilant examinations, vigorous cleaning for weeks, the loss of a mattress and box springs, too much money spent on foggers, sprays and plastic bags, and the ending of one of our common nighttime sayings (For who can joke about such a thing anymore?). _ _It did have one positive effect. It served as a good reminder of how thorough our battle with sin must be. _
Sad to see a nation work so hard to give other countries the freedom to burn our flag like our own citizens then act so surprised when they actually do it.
_I know now what the D in D-Day stands for. Dentist. They even use a form of water torture to extract confessions. _ _Recently the sweetest of technicians, a little gal no more than five feet tall, put on a mask to hide her diabolical smile. As I lay under the spotlight, she proceeded to put both her rubber glove-covered hands into my mouth along with a mini-pressure washer that she called a "sonic tartar remover." As I lay there with water pooling on the top of my epiglottis, my gulping trying to keep me from gagging, a little "vacuum tube" was hooked on the corner of my lip to help remove the water __supposedly__. Yet I know it was just part of her method, the gross sucking sound it made on the inside of my cheek trying to make me crack. But I resisted sitting up and crying out, "Alright, I admit I've been eating candy without flossing!" She'll never get it out of me._
The Christian can look at life through rose-colored glasses only because he has a blood-covered soul.
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