Psalm 135

Psalm 135 (136)

Sing a new song to the Lord, his praise to the end of the earth.

The first-born of the Egyptians he smote,

for his love endures for ever.

He brought Israel out from their midst,

for his love endures for ever;

arm outstretched, with power in his hand,

for his love endures for ever.

He divided the Red Sea in two,

for his love endures for ever;

he made Israel pass through the midst,

for his love endures for ever;

he flung Pharaoh and his force in the sea,

for his love endures for ever.

Through the desert his people he led,

for his love endures for ever.

Nations in their greatness he struck,

for his love endures for ever.

Kings in their splendour he slew,

for his love endures for ever.

Sihon, king of the Amorites,

for his love endures for ever;

and Og, the king of Bashan,

for his love endures for ever.

He let Israel inherit their land,

for his love endures for ever.

On his servant their land he bestowed,

for his love endures for ever.

He remembered us in our distress,

for his love endures for ever.

And he snatched us away from our foes,

for his love endures for ever.

He gives food to all living things,

for his love endures for ever.

To the God of heaven give thanks,

for his love endures for ever.

***********************************

Glory to the Father and to the Son,

and to the Holy Spirit:

as it was in the beginning, is now,

and will be for ever. Amen.

Sing a new song to the Lord, his praise to the end of the earth.

HISTORY CLASS POST

Why we must learn history.

History helps us learn from past societies. History helps us to make the best judgements about building our communities and nations. History serves as a laboratory of evidence. It helps us to avoid mistakes by providing us with evidence of past failures, past cultural interactions, and past successes. Failure is not a bad thing.  Edison failed one thousand times before getting the light bulb right.  Augustine was a drunk and a womanizer, before he found God and became a great theologian.  Failure can be a great teaching tool with great successes that inspire us. They inspire us to make a difference in our world. It only takes one person to make a difference and taking a look at history reminds us of those people such as, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

The study of history helps us develope critical thinking skills. The questions of "How did that come about?" or "What led to such destruction?"  or "When was that invented?" or "Where did that term or that phrase come from?" or "Who might have contributed to the building of a social class?" and so on. Critical thinking also helps us develope writing effectiveness. In writing effectively we can convey the message or point we are trying to make so that the reader can understand what we want them to understand.  This is turn teaches us to speak more effectively as well.

Speaking and writing are our two main forms  of communication today.   We cannot effectively communicate history without good writing skills and thinking skills and we cannot effectively communicate with each other and our world without these skills.  History helps us think critically about other cultures, other peoples, and other professional groups.  History helps us to interact well with others of different faiths and other moral standards. So the study of history developes our thinking abilities so that we can better respond to daily living in a vastly diverse culture. You must have history to be well educated, to be able to adapt to changes in our culture, to learn from past mistakes and successes, and to be inspired to make changes to our world today.

Side Note - Recent Service Learning Project - My thoughts

My service learning journey began with a rather easy and short hour and a few minutes of helping five elderly ladies wheel their way to the Bistro where these ladies had drinks and saw some of their other friends and former neighbors from the nearby apartments.  I introduced myself and then I started asking each one of them to tell about what they had done in their life for a living.  There were teachers, a banker, and a house wife and part-time advertising agent.  I helped wheel them all to their next activity for that day, which was lunch. There I helped with tying on bibs mostly and my time was up for that day.  I did not learn much as of yet, other than getting to know some neat ladies. I also wondered if they would remember me the next time I was there.

            The next time I volunteered for the care home was a few days later and as I arrived I saw that the workers were disorganized and the place was a little bit chaotic.  The music therapy lady had not shown up yet. I sat down at the piano and began playing hymns.  The elderly joined in by singing along with the songs and I was very amazed at how alert some of them became.  They may have appeared to be sleeping in their wheelchairs prior to the music, but they slowly were aroused and awakened and even joyous.  I decided right then and there that music really was a very wonderful thing.

            The music therapy lady arrived and we did aerobics and then I helped wheel the regular ladies to the Bistro for drinks and visiting with friends.  As I had expected, these ladies did not remember me. So strange to think about the deterioration of the mind and how in some ways these ladies were fine and by delving into their minds just even a little you could understand that their mental capacities were failing them. 

            Again, I helped wheel them to lunch and apply bibs.  Bibs are a must for this age group.  Just as bibs are needed for infants and toddlers, so it is for the elderly in nursing homes.  I became very sad from time-to-time as I tried to help some order food and others with spills or with drink refills.  One older gentleman had spilled his hot cocoa on his lap and no one had noticed.  I helped him with it a little bit until someone was available to take him to get cleaned up. 

            Some of the other things that helped with included playing games, such as, 20 questions.  It was very neat to see how some were a walking history book, or one might be a walking encyclopedia. Then others were lost in their own thoughts.  I read the newspaper to some that had poor eyesight and some that needed to be distracted so that they would not leave their seats or want to leave and go back to their rooms.  It was very hard not to get a little teary-eyed at times.  One lady just needed to use the restroom, but there was not enough actual employees to help, so I wheeled her to back to her room and sat with her until the nurse was able to get to her.  Another lady was busy putting her arms under her shirt, so asked her if she was cold.  I did not get much of a response out of the resident, so I went to the employee to ask about this woman. The employee just casually said, “Oh, she does that all the time.”  I thought that she might be cold, so I asked for a blanket. My previous experience with this one resident in particular was all garbally-gook or broken speech. She had previously been completely dumb-founded in the lunch room and no clear speech, so I assumed she had had a stroke and could not communicate properly anymore. So, as I walked over with the blanket to put in on her and see if she would accept my gesture she clearly said, “Thank you.” Another moment of holding back tears.

            What I learned from this experience is that I dread getting old for sure and that nursing facilities, just like preschools and elementary schools will always need volunteers. Not just volunteers, I say these people need advocates.  Advocates to help with the seemingly small things, but are a tremendous help for all involved.  In one sense these people are neglected but in another sense the facilities are doing a great deal with and for them and their families.  The employees of these facilities also sometimes grow immune to the needs of these people and fail to see the needs of the patients, but not in the way one might think.  These employees are doing their jobs to full capacity, but just like young children, the elderly need care in the same way.  It might be getting a tissue for wiping a nose or recognizing that someone is cold and just wants a blanket.

            There is a great need for an advocacy program for these wonderful people that have lived interesting and hard lives. I wish that each facility would make it a requirement that each person had a family member or friend come in to be their advocate at least a minimum of hours a week for the sake of all the people involved.  There would be less guilt on the part of the family and the employees.

I believe that all involved will be much more at ease in helping these poor beautiful souls live out their last days.

From Methodist Protestant to Catholicism

The desire of Christ is for ALL Christian to be one in Him! And the Church is praying for that diligently! Many Catholics that are born and raised in the Church do not even realize what they have and they do not know what is taught in other churches.  The first thing that opened my eyes was Jeff, my husband. My husband's love for scripture, his love for prayer, and his love for Jesus. This truly changed me. This changed my way of thinking. I was living but a shadow of a so-called Christian life in comparison to his way of living as a Christian. Reluctantly though, I started going with him to the Catholic Church.  He didn't push me.  And he was gracious and would attend an Evangelical church with me.

After I had gone to the Catholic Church or Mass, as the church service is called, for about 10 to 15 times I started to realize that there was something more going on than just the typical Sunday morning worship. I could feel it! When I would leave that place I could tell that I wanted to go back. Something was drawing me back. We continued to go to each church and we were even active in the Evangelical church but it wasn't growing us anymore. On a Sunday afternoon, at the exact same time we both said that we needed to talk about church and agreed that we needed to be because we wanted to be one in mind and spirit.  We decided that it was the Catholic Church because I knew there was more to learn about it and I was willing to try. I was still uneasy about the Mass but I knew I was getting something spiritual and new.

That's when I started reading more about Mass and the doctrine of the Church.  Once I knew a little more about the order of Mass, it all started coming together. Why they did this and that. I read Scott Hahn's book The Lamb's Supper. It explained the Mass of the early Christians and how the book of Revelation mirrors the celebration of the Holy Eucharist.

I knew that I felt something different in the Catholic Church. They also read much more scripture during Mass than any other church I had ever been in and they prayed more than any other church I had ever been in and they took Christ more seriously than I have ever experienced!  I was raised Baptist and Methodist. Then later went to the Christian church.  I taught kids and adult Sunday School and played in the praise team and directored the choir.  Everything seemed great. But just like a breeze blowing, the Spirit lead me in the direction of the Church.

We had to move for a job change and so we started going to a new church.  Everything was strange again, but the love of the people was like nothing I had ever felt.  One day after the sacrifice of the Mass or Eucharist, they passed by me with the communion cup or the Blessed Sacrament, which I could not yet take or participate in, I had a thought, an inner shouting, "WHAT IF IT REALLY IS HIS BODY IN THE EUCHARIST!!!" It takes my breath right now and draws me to tears again. I HAD to bow before my Saviour and Lord!

Just think, if God can heal my hands that were burned so quickly than he can change that bread into his body and blood.  I realized then if I could believe that He made creation, parted the Red Sea, healed the lame, raised people from the dead, rose from the dead himself, than he could easily change bread and wine into his body and blood!  Oh me of little faith!! I HAD PUT GOD IN A BOX ALL THESE YEARS!!! Like I could tell him what he could and couldn't do! Silly me.

So, my first confession truly freed me! I truly knew freedom in a way I had never before known it.  I went to an Adoration Chapel for the first time and almost tripped over the people that were on their faces before my Lord! Tears streamed down my face as I entered to talk with Christ. I had many times asked forgiveness for my sins but not until I confessed them out loud did it really do anything.  I talked with Christ in the adoration chapel and he told me the name of a daughter I had aborted 20 years earlier.  Her name was Bethany. Which was also the place that Jesus was annointed and where he ascended into Heaven. Prior to leaving Christ said that he was real flesh and blood and proved it by eating fish before the disciples. Luke 24:39 (NIV) He said to them, "This is what I told you while I was still with you: Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms." The he opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures.  He told them, "This is what is written:  The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. Luke 24:44-47 (NIV)   I walked out of the adoration chapel knowing without any doubts that Jesus was truly present and that my daughter, Bethany was with The Lord and had been praying me home all this time!

More of my story. Written earlier last week to an agnostic.

There is proof of Christianity.  I have personal proof of miracles, and the Church has proof of an infinite number of miracles, such as, The Incorruptibles.  The Incorruptibles are people whose bodies have not decayed. They have done scientific studies on these bodies and the skin cells are still alive!  In my personal life I have been in an explosion and burned. My burns healed faster than the burn-unit nurse had ever seen and she asked me many questions about what I might have been using on my burns.  It was the same ointment as the other burn victims were given. I have heard what I believe was the Holy Spirit or an angel tell me that I would not have to have skin graphs and another time I was told that I would have to tell someone it was okay to go home who was on his death bed.  I have heard angels and saints saying the Unending Hymn that is in Revelation, the last book in the Bible, and at the time I was not really that familiar with this hymn. There are other proofs of the writers of the Bible that were with Jesus during his miracles and in fact we have the bones of many of the Apostles who wrote some of the New Testament scriptures.  In fact, my church has a sliver of St. John the Apostle's bones!  This has been a recent discovery of mine, so I am really excited!! Just this week the Pope displayed the bones of Peter. And this one probably seems minimal, but they have the actual chair that Peter sat in and used! It is covered in Bronze and hangs in the Cathedral in Rome.  There are many proofs and evidence.  The miracles from relics of saints happen often. In fact before I believed in relics I had a friend let me see a Rosary from Rome that had been blessed by the Pope.   I did not think much of it but the next morning my joints and my skin felt warm and soft. Like I was laying on a cloud when I woke up.  I wondered what was going on because for 10 years I had fibromyalgia pain and was always suffering with pain even when laying in bed. The pain was gone!!!

In my own life I have had events that altered what I ever thought possible! They are somewhat unexplainable and miraculous!

One of my first experiences was when I went to visit my grandfather who was on hospice care about 11 years ago.  I had been reading a book by Charles Swindoll called, "Flying Closer to the Flame." The book talked about being in touch with the Holy Spirit. 

The hospice nurse told us that grandpa had a few weeks left to live and I thought I had better go see him.  On the way there I was listening to music on the radio when above the noise of the radio I heard, "You are going to have to tell him it's ok to go home." It was one of those moments of, "things that make you go..hmmmm". "What's that all about?" I wondered. I mean, they had told us that grandpa had a few weeks yet. "Weird."

So when I arrived at grandpa's house I told my aunt what I had heard and she proceeded to tell me that grandpa had a good day. He had gotten out of bed and ate and joked around a bit. So I was still not expecting grandpa to pass away.  See my aunt had worked in a nursing home or care home and had experienced people in their last days.  What I did not know was that some people near death may have "one last good day".  I feel as if maybe that is a kind of grace for the loved ones.  I did not have any idea what her intent was when she told me this about grandpa. So I went in to see grandpa periodically that evening. I was hoping that he might wake up so that I might get to visit with him.  But he did not ever wake up again.  His breathing became shallow and after a while it was very faint. My aunt said, "You better tell him what you came to tell him." I grasped his very warm and soft hand and told him that it was okay to go home, and he took his last breath. 

For me it was an extraordinary moment of joy and grief all at once. I knew that for some reason grandpa had needed that reassurance to step into the arms of God and I knew that God had used me to be that reassurance. 

There is much more to this story see because I am a Christian.  I have witnessed a few miracles in my lifetime, but not like this one.  I have experienced things that are hard to explain.  

Let me go back a couple of days before grandpa's death. You see, grandpa was not a Christian, in other words he had never professed a belief in Jesus Christ.  (Jesus said, "I am the way the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father but through me.") My mother had prayed for him for 35 years or so. A couple days before grandpa's death it was a Sunday afternoon and I felt a deep pounding in my chest and a profound experience that I can only explain as if angels were tugging on my arms and pushing my back to get me off of the couch where I was resting, thinking, and praying for grandpa. I thought maybe I should call my aunt to see how he was doing and ask her if she would talk to him about Jesus again.  See, I did not want grandpa to suffer in this death because he had emphysema and lung cancer.  And, of course, I wanted him to go to heaven. Almost instantly I felt a tugging, of sorts, to go call. As my aunt picked up the phone she was crying and I thought that it was too late.  I asked her what was wrong and she hollered, "Daddy just accepted Christ!" I was full of joy and exclaimed, "The angels are rejoicing!"  Which took me by suprise that I had said that and then remembered the verse in the Bible that says that the angels rejoice over one sinner who repents. (Luke 15:10 RSVCE) 

See grandpa knew he needed a doctor and not an earthly doctor.  He had asked to speak to the lady down the street, the widow of the preacher.  Grandpa told her that he needed her doctor.  And they prayed.  That was the moment when I called.  God works in mysterious ways.

The next year I wrote out my story of grandpa and mailed out letters to all of his kids, and grandkids.   It was closing time at work.  I had mailed the letters just a couple of hours before.  With my Bible in hand I headed out the back door of the Cheney Pharmacy. As I flipped the toggle switch there was a mighty spark and everything went into slow motion.  I could here the WOOSH sound as the natural gas explosion lit!   

The next thing I remember, I was outside under some rubble with the darkest red pouring from my head!  I was screaming at the top of my lungs and getting to my hands and knees; shaking the rubble to make someone aware of where I was located.  I saw flames around me and vehicle tires that I thought might ignite at any moment.  A few farmers patronizing the local bar across the street miraculously lifted a concrete cinderblock beam, a metal door and frame, and miscellaneous concrete debris freeing me from the rubble and helping me to my feet and out of danger.  I escaped with second degree burns to my face, hands, and neck, a giant cut across my forehead and numerous head wounds.  I was so thankful to be alive that I did truly believe at that point that an angel had protected me from death! And I got a helicopter ride out of the deal too!

This was absolutely the most horrifying experience I have ever experienced and hope to ever experience.  The next day the burn unit doctor was in to look over my burns. He said it was possible that I may need a skin graft on my hand.  I was once again horrified! As the doctor and assistant left my room, I sat up in bed, mortified! Thinking how much more pain could I take? At that instant I heard this, "You are not going to have to have that." And I felt such relief and peace come over me. I did not even question where those words came from. Just peace. True peace.  Assurance.  Probably because my head was the size of a basketball my parents did not believe me when I told them that I was not going to need a skin graft. The doctors and nurses would come in and look at my hands and look for "skin buds".  (The red little dots that indicate nerves forming and thus the growth of skin.)  I was in the hospital for eight days and then they released me to home health care.  I still had to visit the hospital so that they could check my wounds for infection and for healing.  On my last visit my parents and I sat down with the burn unit wound care nurse for a final check of my burns and to remove the suctures from my forehead.  The nurse asked me several times what I was doing for my burns.  Was I using a special ointment? I said, "No". And proceeded to tell her about all the people that were praying for me in at least five different states. She said, "No, no." "I don't mean....I mean really...what are you using on your burns?" I said, "Just the ointment that they gave me." And we varified the name and she was just in disbelief that my burns had healed so fast. It was about three weeks. Miracle? I think so. In fact, I have heard more recently of how our prayers are heard but heard in a way outside of time because our time and heaven's time are different.  Heaven's time is not time as we know it.  It is a unending realm. Our prayers are heard and answered unendingly.  That's why I believe my hands still heal fast when I get a cut. They seem to heal faster than before my burns. It's a miracle.

The next time that I heard directly from heaven was in 2007. I was saying a fast and short prayer before heading off to work.  I was sitting at the dining room table, which I rarely did at that time in my life. I always thought I was too busy. I got up to leave for work and before I could stand I heard this: "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Power and Might. Heaven and Earth are full of your Glory. Hosanna in the Highest. Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord. Hosanna in the Highest." But not only did I hear this but I felt as if I was "caught-up" in saying it with them.  I had never resighted this before in my life! I thought it was ending but then I heard it again! "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of Power and Might. Heaven and Earth are full of your Glory. Hosanna in the Highest. Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord. Hosanna in the Highest." I said it again with them. Then I thought, "Ok, now I can go to work." But I heard it once more and then it faded away.  Wow! What an experience!  I really didn't know what I had just experienced!  It was amazing and strange. 

It has been six years since I heard the "Holy, Holy, Holy".  It is November 2013.  I have since joined the Catholic Church.  I was confirmed at Easter of this year.  Last year around this time I realized that I was hearing the "Holy, Holy, Holy" again, but not in my head in some extraordinary form, but in church.  The Church had recently changed their wording a bit to better fit to the original language so I had not recognized it at first. They recite, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Host...". I had been going to the Catholic Church and reading about the Church for a year prior. I also located the phrases in two parts of the Bible.  The Church recites this phrase every hour somewhere in the world and it is known as the Unending Hymn in the Bible.  I heard that Unending Hymn that day.  I believe it was the Saints and the Angels reciting it in Heaven glorifying our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Why I have been given such gifts from God, I do not know. I do know that scripture says this:  His ways are not our ways, .....

I also know that I must tell everyone about this because it was given to me.  We, as Christians, are to tell of the good and great things that the Holy Spirit teaches us so that it edifies others.   That is why I am writing this book, so that all may know what God has revealed to me through the study of scripture, scholarly studies, the hearing of priestly homilies of old and new, and through prayer.  My writing will be just that, mine.  I cannot say that everything I will comment on will be in line with every last piece of Catholic Doctrine, but I do hope to stay as close to the Church's beliefs as far as I know for now. 

That said, I am a new convert to the Catholic faith and have been very grateful for being allowed this opportunity. God opened my eyes to see that truth of the gospel.  I prayed for the truth, and this truth has set me free.