Squirrels in the church.

A light hearted look at a squirrel problem.

The Presbyterian church called a meeting to decide what to do about their squirrel infestation. After much prayer and consideration, they concluded that the squirrels were predestined to be there, and they should not interfere with God’s divine will.

At the Baptist church, the squirrels had taken an interest in the baptistry. The deacons met and decided to put a water-slide on the baptistry and let the squirrels drown themselves. The squirrels liked the slide and, unfortunately, knew instinctively how to swim, so twice as many squirrels showed up the following week.

The Lutheran church decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God’s creatures. So, they humanely trapped their squirrels and set them free near the Baptist church. Two weeks later, the squirrels were back when the Baptists took down the water-slide.

The Episcopalians tried a much more unique path by setting out pans of whiskey around their church in an effort to kill the squirrels with alcohol poisoning. They sadly learned how much damage a band of drunk squirrels can do.

But the Catholic church came up with a more creative strategy! They baptized all the squirrels and made them members of the church. Now they only see them at Christmas and Easter.

Not much was heard from the Jewish synagogue. They took the first squirrel and circumcised him. They haven’t seen a squirrel since.

Gwawdodyn: Belief

Post borrowed from The Twisting Tail. Murdochmouse.wordpress.com

Desperation aids faith through beliefMystical hope can welcome reliefBut suffering sin, is an act withinNothing but time helps release the grief Quatrain form with an ab rhyme scheme.The gwawdodyn is a Welsh poetic form with a of couple variations. However, both versions are comprised of quatrains (4-line stanzas) that have a 9/9/10/9 syllable pattern and […]

Gwawdodyn: Belief

SO MANY VOICES

(C) calvarydayton


“What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” Pilate asked. They all answered, “Crucify him!”

Matthew 27:22

Following Jesus requires listening for his voice. The problem is that we let too many other voices drown out Jesus’ voice.

First is the voice of compromise. It says, “Everything is negotiable.” With Jesus, however, there is no dealing. No negotiation. No compromise. With him it is all or nothing.

Second is the voice of expedience. It says, “I have other affairs to attend to, for I am a busy person.” Our agendas are full. We are a people of pragmatism. Let’s get on it and get it over with.

Third is the voice of politics. This voice asks the question, “Is it popular?” The voice of politics lacks the courage to stand up for what is right.

But finally, there is the voice of God. The still small voice speaks to the heart, saying, “Follow Jesus.” It is the voice rapping on the door of our heart asking us to obey. It doesn’t plead or demand or beg. It yearns, but it does not yell.

How many people do you think leave a church service in which the gospel is preached, knowing they should respond to Jesus but don’t? Our hearts can become calloused. The more we refuse to listen to God, the harder our hearts become. Ignore the voice and fail to heed it, and eventually the voice of God can hardly be heard.

Pilate heard so many voices that day as he pondered what to do with Jesus. He heard the voice of compromise, the voice of expedience, and the voice of politics. So many voices. He even heard the voice of God. How could he not? Jesus was standing right in front of him.

So many voices. What voice will you listen to?

Beautiful, Broken Creatures (new poem)

There are too many truths here not to reblog.

Broken People

“Some days, some hours, we soar.
Hawks, eagles, miles above sea level, worshiping the splendor below.
The wind lashing around us, we are boundless…complete…

Other times we bleed – dreadful children,
scraping our way through a field of shattered glass and dreams.

Yet we carry on, feigning normalcy;
actors, playing the part assigned to us by the others,

All the while perishing.

All the while feeling as if we’re unique to desperation.

Can no one feel the tears?
Can no one see our heartbreak?
Has no one the same perception of hopelessness we possess?

Hanging in the eternal balance,
somewhere between life and death,

We watch the years tick-tick-tick by,
soul gradually unburdening itself from skeleton,
ever so gently, as mortality snakes in.

Frantic, we grasp the nearest olive branch,
be it friend or foe,
cleaving to any veneer of chance.

As water sashays through our fingers, though,
we frightfully…

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