joi, 29 mai 2008

The Word Forever

by Henry Morris, Ph.D.

"So shall I keep thy law continually for ever and ever" (Psalm 119:44).

In Psalm 119 (the great "Song of the Word" with 176 references to the written Word of God in its 176 verses), there are seven testimonies to the fact that the Word is forever!

The first, completing the first one-fourth of the psalm, is our text. God's law will be there forever, and in our glorified bodies, in the new Earth, we shall keep it forever.

The second such reference opens the second half of this great psalm. "For ever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven" (Psalm 119:89). Never will it be changed; it was there, waiting to be revealed in God's time, before the creation of the world. It was there, and will be there, forever.

Note also the other references:

(3) "Thy testimonies have I taken as an heritage for ever: for they are the rejoicing of my heart" (v.111).

(4) "I have inclined my heart to perform thy statutes alway, even unto the end" (v.112).

(5) "The righteousness of thy testimonies is everlasting: give me understanding, and I shall live" (v.144).

(6) "Concerning thy testimonies, I have known of old that thou hast founded them for ever" (v.152).

(7) "Thy word is true from the beginning: and every one of thy righteous judgments endureth for ever" (v.160).

There are similar assurances in the New Testament: "Heaven and earth shall pass away," said Jesus, "but my words shall not pass away" (Matthew 24:35). The apostle Peter wrote, quoting Isaiah 40:8, that "the word of the Lord endureth for ever" (I Peter 1:25).

How foolish it is, then, for anyone to build his life and entrust his soul to anything other than the one thing in this present world that will last forever-the written Word of God and its revelation of God in Christ.

luni, 26 mai 2008

You Know You're In Trouble When...

You make more than you ever made, owe more than you ever owed, and have less than you've ever had.

duminică, 25 mai 2008

The Christians - Words


Truthful words are not beautiful;
beautiful words are not truthful.
Good words are not persuasive;
persuasive words are not good.

— Lao Tsu, Tao Te Ching

What's in a word

Lost in a Beautiful Word

Being a young girl, growing up in this world, you see magazines, publishing pictures of young, skinny, women who are absolutely stunning. Of course, all is done with photo-enhancing, but this pictures and ads promote being 'beautiful'.
By the time I hit junior high, I never had much self-esteem. I always judged myself as ugly, or fat, along with any other negative word I could come up with.

I always heard of people being emo. And I never really knew what this meant, but we always seemed to use this term. But, while growing older, I learned of self-injury, cutting to be exact. I tried this a few times, trying to deal with my problems. But the scars and scabs left over after it was healed, always disappointed me. I always regretted it.

Then, one day. I came across the word : scarification. I was just surfing a tattoo website, looking at all the designs, wishing I were old enough to get one. I checked out this "scarification", it was amazing. Not only did it look cute when it was healed, but it also be an alternative for cutting..

Over a period of a few months, I 'carved' or 'cut' a design or two in my ankle. But still, none of this ever satisfied me. That is, until I came across a picture of a Chinese symbol as a scarification. I always wanted a tattoo of a chinese symbol, so this seemed perfect.

So I sat down at my computer and started to look at chinese symbols. I looked up the translation for pain, breathe, and a million other words. It had to be simple, yet pretty. I couldn't find anything. I wanted the word to mean something, to me. I didn't really care what other people thought. But eventually, I came across the chinese symbol for 'beauty' or 'beautiful'. It was absolutely perfect. I want to be beautiful, I always thought that to myself.

I began to attempt to sketch the design on some notebook paper, and I was pretty sure I finally had the drawing right. So, I layed down the pencil, and grabbed a pen. But then, I had to make another desicion. Where should I put this? It had to somewhere somewhat hidden. I thought of my ankle, no, I already have one there. My wrist, that would be to noticable. Then I realized, the top of my foot.

I began to draw the design on the top of my right foot, right below my pinkie toe. The symbol was no bigger then an inch by inch square. It made me happy, just looking at it.

I needed to find something to carve with.

-a razor blade, which didn't work so well last time.

-a needle, though I'm terrified of them.

I couldn't find anything that I wanted to use. I needed something, not to sharp, not dull. And then I remembered a friend told me how she had cut herself, with a bobbypin. I went into my bathroom and grabbed one. I used my teeth to pull of the plastic piece at the end of the metal. It seemed to be pretty sharp.

And so I began. I started with a single line. It didn't seem to be working. But, I continued. I pushed down pretty hard, and kept trying to carve a single line. Sooner then I thought it would, it began to bleed. I let it bleed and continued on the next line. In about an hour, my symbol was complete. Though, you couldn't see it. It bled like crazy. I wiped it off, and took a couple of pictures. It hurt pretty bad, I decided I would sleep on it.

I woke up the next morning, and without thinking, tried to step out of my bed. Right foot first, I stepped down to the ground. A sharp pain traveled up my leg. I looked down, and suddenly remembered what I had done the night before. You couldn't really see it, but.. I hoped it would turn out better tomorrow.

The next day came, and the cut looked excellent. With my red and swollen foot, I went to school. Everyone said it looked like I tried to carve a lobster into my foot. I didn't care. I loved it.

The next day came, and it was no longer swollen. It now looked just like I hoped it would. With a scab beginning to form over it, you could see the design perfectly.

Almost (not quite) a week has passed. I attempted to irritate it using different methods I found on the internet. Citrus juice and a tooth brush seemed to work the best.

As for now, I am very happy with my new body art. I also hope to carve angel wings in memory of a lost loved one into my other foot soon.

Words - a short story

by Zoran Zivkovic
translated from the Serbian by Alice Copple-Tosic

Mr. Plushal collected words. He'd been doing this since the age of fifty-six, after reading his first anthology of love poems. It had been a small paperback with a beautiful purple flower on the cover, although the smell emanating from the book was wholly incompatible with this image. The copy had the stale, musty odor that inevitably permeates books after they spend a long time in a basement secondhand bookstore.

Mr. Plushal might not have bought the anthology. Although he periodically made the rounds of the bookstores, he rarely bought any books, and when he did they were of a quite different sort. He had a small library in his house consisting primarily of handbooks. On raising houseplants, for example. He himself didn't have any plants, but he considered himself very knowledgeable on the subject. Or on cats. He didn't have a cat because he was allergic to their fur, but if anyone were to ask him, he had plenty of useful advice to offer. There was also a handbook on freezer maintenance and repair. True, he had no need for a freezer, but useful knowledge is nothing to be sneezed at.

He had decided to buy the anthology because of the flower on the cover. As a plant expert he knew that such a flower did not exist, but that was the very reason it had appealed to him. He took the book to the cashier in a somewhat uneasy state. It seemed somehow unfitting for a man his age to show an interest in romantic verse. It was almost like buying a pornographic magazine. Luckily the salesgirl didn't take note of the title. All she did was look at the price and take the exact change he handed her.

He knew a thing or two about love, of course. Not from personal experience in this case, either, but was that necessary? Most likely people are born with such awareness. How else could it be? Nonetheless, when he set to reading the book, the unease from the store returned, despite the fact that he was alone. He even blushed. He only found relief with the thought that the anthology should be considered a handbook on love. Then everything became easier and quite pleasant.

He was surprised to find that the words in the book charmed him even more than the tender and exalted feelings. He suddenly became aware of something that had escaped his notice. Beautiful words exist. They weren't necessarily special or rare, rather ordinary words that were to be found in other books too. But for some reason or other they had never looked beautiful in the handbooks. Or rather, their beauty hadn't caught his eye.

The more he read, the more he was filled with the fear of losing something. When he turned a page, the words that stayed behind seemed to pale and evaporate. New ones came to take their place, but this was insufficient consolation. He had to save the earlier ones somehow. It made no sense to allow them to disappear. He could have gone back to them, of course, but then he would never finish reading the book. No, he had to find a better solution. And then he had a flash of inspiration.

He bought a large lined notebook with a leather cover. Nothing less magnificent would suffice as a repository for beautiful words. How could he write them in an ordinary notebook? That would have been almost sacrilegious. He returned to the beginning of the anthology, holding the open notebook in front of him. Whenever he came across a beautiful word, he wrote it down promptly with his fountain pen. It was not made of gold, in actual fact, but it's hard to arrange everything to perfection.

His handwriting was neat. Not ornate but measured, even a little austere. Beautiful in its own way. Just what was needed to write down beautiful words, not overshadowing them yet consonant with them. He normally wrote with large letters, but for this occasion he made the letters smaller. Just in case. He didn't know how many beautiful words he would find. The notebook was quite thick, but he had to proceed with care.

It was not until he had written down all the beautiful words in the anthology that he mustered the courage to check the results. Would they remain beautiful in his notebook or would their beauty be lost, as in the handbooks? Holding the notebook a short distance away, he breathed a sigh of relief as he took in the four densely filled pages. Not only was their beauty intact, it seemed somehow enhanced. This was probably due to the fact that only beautiful words were present, not those other ones that were not exactly ugly, but did not stand out in any way. The notebook was concentrated beauty.

After he had finished the anthology, he wondered what to do next. The notebook was nowhere near to being filled, it had barely been touched. Could he leave it like that? It would be as if he'd merely chipped off a bit of beauty. No, he had to continue. There had to be many more beautiful words. They all deserved to be in one place. But where should he look for them?

What first crossed his mind, naturally, was another anthology of love poems. He couldn't go wrong there. He'd seen for himself that beautiful words find great expression in love poems. But if he kept buying just this type of book he would soon become conspicuous. Two or three more could pass unnoticed, but three hundred and thirty-five, the number he'd seen in the Main Library catalogue, would certainly give rise to derision. No, he would have to think of something else. And then he had a second inspirational flash.

Who said beautiful words could only be found in anthologies of love poems? They certainly had to be in other books too. Why not even in handbooks? He was already expert enough to grasp a great truth. Beautiful words are everywhere. The skill lay not in the choice of books but in detecting the words. You had to have an eye for them. And he suspected he already had one. There was a simple way to verify this. He grabbed the first handbook within his reach and opened it. The same moment he was blinded by a blaze of beautiful words, as though someone had highlighted them with a bright marker.

He was barely able to resist the temptation to open his notebook and start writing them down. What stopped him was his prudence, something that made him rightfully proud. One couldn't be so impulsive. Where would that lead one? Confusion would reign in an instant. He had to be steadfast and systematic. After thoroughly considering the circumstances, the solution presented itself at last, once again in the form of an inspiration.

He struggled briefly with the thought of tearing up the first four pages in the notebook so he could start over again. But he dropped the idea. Such an important undertaking could not begin in a disfigured notebook. He would have to buy a new one. That alone would be fitting. He chose the largest one he could find. It had a feature that he found particularly expedient: a gilded ribbon to mark the place where you had stopped reading or writing.

The enormous dictionary had sixteen heavy tomes. When he opened the first one, a bevy of sparkling, beautiful words met his eye. The magnitude of what lay ahead did not frighten him, however. He was perfectly prepared for it. Nor could he expect to find any shortcuts. Whatever time was needed to write them all down would be taken, neither more nor less. After all, what lay before him was joy and not suffering. Indeed, what can be more joyful than writing down beauty?

When he finally brought his work to a close, Mr. Plushal was considerably older than fifty-six. But this did nothing to lessen his feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment. On the contrary. How many people that old can say their lives have not been in vain, for they have collected beauty? Only one thing was left for him to do. There was room for just two more words at the bottom of the last page of the completely filled notebook. For the first time since he'd started his collection, he softened his handwriting a little. It was still austere, but also gentle, benevolent. Just the way a signature should be. Entering the notebook, he slowly pulled the back cover after him, as though lowering a heavy lid.

marți, 20 mai 2008

Live and Let Die.

Beautiful Words of Wisdom

These are the Last Words

Don't worry, it's not used any more...

Step back a bit, I can't get you in the picture...

So they finally fixed this elevator yesterday?

Listen, i'm taking a course in chemistry, I know what i'm doing...

Yes of course the elastic is strong enough...

It's ok so long as you stay down-wind...

Nah, that fuel guage often gets stuck on empty...

I thought it tasted rather strange...

They couldn't hit an elephant at this dista-... Commander John Sedwick

Don't turn it on yet, it's not quite ready...

Quick, they'll never find us if we hide here...

Imagine it

luni, 19 mai 2008

Philosophical horizons of views

I say

in an ordinary city with ordinary people
who live ordinary lives,
raising ordinary kids in ordinary
schools teaching them ordinary
thougts they should have andlive by
in an ordinary world created in an
ordinary illusion of thinking
and imagine ordinary physics
of words unsaid as in a movie
hundred centurys ago,
who's doing the father or the son
gets to be a winner of the spirit
or the mind in darkness instead of
light and light instead of love?

love is the string, the end and the
everything starts or ends up

with love.

joi, 15 mai 2008

70 Most Beautiful Words

Mother is the most beautiful word in the English language, according to a survey of over 40,000 overseas voters and learners of English at our teaching centres. The survey was conducted to coincide with our 70th anniversary celebrations.

We asked over 7,000 learners in 46 countries what they considered to be the most beautiful words in the English language. In addition an online poll was run via our websites in all non-English speaking countries.

The online poll was constructed and the results analysed using Confirmit, the world’s Number one online survey and reporting software Over 35,000 people voted.

According to the survey results, the top ten most beautiful words in the English language are as follows:


The full results are as follows:

Greg Selby, Communications & Marketing Officer who is responsible for managing the project said:

“It’s interesting that Mother, the only word of the 70 that describes a direct relationship between people, came top of the poll. It is great to see words in the survey that are so positive and suggestive of the British Council’s purpose; words such as freedom, liberty, peace, renaissance, and destiny. These chime with our aim to help millions of people worldwide access opportunity through English, and promote stronger ties and improved perceptions of the UK”

luni, 5 mai 2008

Beautiful song. No words

a beautiful song needs no introduction, just attention,
so listen to it and leave coments if you have any.

DeRoxas - Peace of Mind