<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239</id><updated>2011-04-30T02:49:10.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost in my Fathers arms</title><subtitle type='html'>The random ramblings of a Son.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-2207598918528558041</id><published>2007-09-03T13:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T13:56:20.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DC</title><content type='html'>I am in DC--Crazy!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-2207598918528558041?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/2207598918528558041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=2207598918528558041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/2207598918528558041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/2207598918528558041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2007/09/dc.html' title='DC'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-1476036977102152174</id><published>2007-04-01T18:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-01T19:02:52.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What if...</title><content type='html'>What if he bids me:&lt;br /&gt;"Come and die!;&lt;br /&gt;Will I hold back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he calls me:&lt;br /&gt;"Lay down your life!"&lt;br /&gt;Will I hesitate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he tells me:&lt;br /&gt;"Your life for my children!"&lt;br /&gt;Will I question him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he asks me:&lt;br /&gt;"Fill up what is lacking!" &lt;br /&gt;Will I dread the road?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he begs me:&lt;br /&gt;"Lacking in the afflictions of Christ!"&lt;br /&gt;Will I fear death?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he charges me:&lt;br /&gt;"Take up your cross!"&lt;br /&gt;Will I not bend my neck?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if he commands me:&lt;br /&gt;"Deny yourself and follow me!"&lt;br /&gt;Will I not die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell you the truth:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."&lt;br /&gt;Mt. 16:25&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-1476036977102152174?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/1476036977102152174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=1476036977102152174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/1476036977102152174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/1476036977102152174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2007/04/what-if.html' title='What if...'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-5827509291072921996</id><published>2007-02-25T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T23:29:12.452-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can these wings fly</title><content type='html'>Something is holding me back&lt;br /&gt;But what do I lack&lt;br /&gt;More than anything I want to dare&lt;br /&gt;These are my words to share&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul wants to soar&lt;br /&gt;My voice wants to roar&lt;br /&gt;Oh, there must be more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am desperately afright&lt;br /&gt;To fall from such height&lt;br /&gt;Into a place void of light&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams are not meant to last&lt;br /&gt;Passing by incredibly fast&lt;br /&gt;Leaving us broken in a cast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality will quickly dawn&lt;br /&gt;Casting out the funny fawn&lt;br /&gt;All gone in one silly yawn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul wants to soar&lt;br /&gt;My voice wants to roar&lt;br /&gt;Oh, there must be more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can these wings fly &lt;br /&gt;Carry me into the sky&lt;br /&gt;Cannot know without a try&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly my wings soar high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, these dreams won't die!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-5827509291072921996?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/5827509291072921996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=5827509291072921996' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/5827509291072921996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/5827509291072921996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2007/02/can-these-wings-fly.html' title='Can these wings fly'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-1142662696086546093</id><published>2007-02-18T20:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-18T20:41:07.181-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Father Sequoia</title><content type='html'>One early morning I felt a deep urge to go into the woods. It is hard to describe what caused it but a force drew me inescapably towards the familiar forest. The walk there proved little strenuous and the bright sunlight made up for the early morning chill. Closer and closer my feet brought me towards a clearing between the trees. With firm steps and no hesitation I entered the wood, which greeted me with the smell of a fresh morning rain. Only a few sprinkles had still fallen when I had left the house but even these and had quickly ceased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I entered into the forest, I stepped into a whole different world. Time seemed to slow down in this very moment and the further into the forest I wondered the stranger the trees began to look. A sudden chill of fear crept into my heart but when I heard the voice of birds singing, all fear was pushed away or rather transformed into a sense of dread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew not were I was going but my feet kept pushing onward to an unknown destination. Darker and darker the wood grew and soon I had lost all sense of time or direction. By now my eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and had no need of sunlight to see the path. While I was progressing further and further away from the known regions of the woods, a still, small voice inside whispered: Father Sequoia, ask for Father Sequoia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puzzled by the meaning of this advice I kept on treading the soft ground. Each one of my steps left a mark in the grass. Whether I was dreaming or the trees really moved closer to me, I could afterwards never tell, but I could swear I saw trees moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly something or someone approached me. In the dark it was hard to tell but when it had drawn near enough I recognized him as a little squirrel.  For some reason I was attracted to the squirrel and when he noticed, it appeared as though he performed a little dance to draw even more of my attention. A weird idea welled up in my soul: "Maybe I should talk to the squirrel." At first I tried to brush the thought away but after all, this was a strange forest and no one would ever know anyways. And so I said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Brother Squirrel, do you know Father Sequoia by any chance?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no response at first and the squirrel only looked funny at me. I knew it was a stupid idea, I thought when the suddenly the squirrel addressed me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How do I know that I can trust you?” He said in a stern voice, one would not expect from a squirrel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hesitated. "Should I answer? What was I getting my self into here?" But now there was no turning back, I could not back out of this adventure. So I responded:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There is o way for you to know whether you can trust me, you must take the risk.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Squirrel nodded and proceeded: “Alright, I will lead you to Father Sequoia, for only his friends know him by this name.”&lt;br /&gt;So my weird companion and I marched on ever deeper into the forest, we changed directions frequently and I guessed that the squirrel was still mistrusting me and led me through a labyrinth, where none was. After seemed like hours the squirrel suddenly stopped and whispered:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Be quiet! We are in the heart of the forest and we don’t want to wake what lives her.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I lost my footing and without any resistance fell to my knees. Now I no longer even felt a sense of dread by simple awe overcame me and knelling was the only appropriate response. Had the previous events seems strange, there were no words to express what ensued now. It was terrible and yet magnificent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only now I noticed the huge tree standing tall in front of me. He was larger and older than any of the other trees I had ever seen and while I was still pondering his majesty a roaring voice form inside the tree addressed me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Son of Adam, why have you come?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With trembling in my voice I asked:&lt;br /&gt;“Are you Father Sequoia?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That I am but the better question is: Why have you come here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I did not answer he added:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t fret my child! Ask the question deep within in your soul Not all questions are equal, for this one is more royal than all others.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not know how to respond. Asking a question seemed so wrong and yet his voice resounded so convincingly within my ear.  So I asked the one question that had born within my soul ever since I had entered the dark wood. Before I could even finish my consideration the question broke forth from my mouth and I heard myself say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Where you here when our Savior was born?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Immediately the whole forest fell silent as all the trees and animals waited for Father Sequoia’s response. Such a question had not been heard in those woods for a very long time, so long no one even remembered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father Sequoia paused for what seemed eternity. Finally he began to speak with a voice so firm yet soft, so quiet yet distinct, so noble yet so humble:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“My dear Child, you have asked wisely and I will tell you all to your heart’s content.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat down and listened for the longest time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I was there long before our Savior was born but despite my age I still remember that day like yesterday. But before I tell you the story, you need to know some things leading up to that night. When the first couple fell, I was there; when the first brother was slain, I was there; I saw empires rise and fall, all the while I always stood tall in this forest.  Ever since that day when sin had entered our world, our Creator had placed a desire into our hearts, the groan of all creation for a Savior. For many thousands of years I waited, while I saw all other trees felled or die of old age, nevertheless I was privileged to remain.&lt;br /&gt;Then one night the groan grew so intense and I lifted my eyes up to heaven. There I saw a star and I knew that the fulfillment of all our desires had come. All of my being rejoiced, my roots danced, my stomp and boughs roared with joy. Our Savior had been born! Oh, how we had longed for this moment and now finally we saw its fulfillment, our redemption was near. All the trees around the world resounded with praise for the newborn king. Many of my old fellows died that night after having seen their groan expressed and their hope fulfilled. But for me it was not yet time to die, I had much more to suffer still.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that moment another voice spoke up shyly and at first I did not know where it came from but as I looked closer I saw it coming from a little raindrop in one of Father Sequoia’s leaves. She said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And then and then the incredible happened. Many thousands of times had I risen into the atmosphere and fallen to the ground as rain again but never had I seen someone walk on water. Yet my Master walked on me on that lake in Galilee. Even more he calmed the storm when all hope seemed lost for his disciples. I, the little drop, have touched the King of all the Universe.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she had finished the grass under my feet began to talk as well:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“My great, great, great … granduncle grew on a the hills outside of Jerusalem, a place called Golgotha. Ever since, the story has been passed on in our family of how the master’s feet trod upon one of us, how this instance has crowned us.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the forest grew silent again as they all waited for the continuation of the story. They had listened intently to the unfolding of the story and some of the older trees had murmured in agreement. At last Father Sequoia spoke again:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Much grief befell all of us when my brother’s wood was used to form the cross of our King. What pain? What outrage? How could the King of Glory die? Had we all hoped in vain when he breathed his last? Was our redemption only a fantasy? How could they crucify our Redeemer—nature’s call and creation’s groan?&lt;br /&gt;The trees and the plants, all birds and beasts hung their head in grief and nature was silent for three whole days. But then the rocks cried out: 'He is risen—risen indeed!' At first we did not believe them, after all they are only rocks but then we saw it ourselves. Death was defeated and the Curse broken. Redemption had come and slavery ended for men as well as nature. Never before had creation rejoiced in such violent fashion, the roar resounded throughout the universe.&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I have waited here to tell my story but no one ever seemed to care. At first people visited and asked questions but after a while people stopped coming at all and the forest fell silent and sad because we could not tell the story of Creation’s redeemer.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old tree fell silent and I could see that he was visible moved by the retelling of his story. Brother Squirrel came up to me and tugged my sleeve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It is time to leave, Father Sequoia is tired and his end is drawing near. Seven thousand years have left a mark on him. Now it is up to you to tell his story.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without further words he led me out of the wood and when I left the forest, I looked up and I saw the star.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-1142662696086546093?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/1142662696086546093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=1142662696086546093' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/1142662696086546093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/1142662696086546093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2007/02/father-sequoia.html' title='Father Sequoia'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-4407440732802371933</id><published>2007-02-15T18:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T18:40:16.449-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What if...</title><content type='html'>What if the world would stop spinning&lt;br /&gt;What if teams would stop winning&lt;br /&gt;What if birds would stop singing&lt;br /&gt;What if children would stop clinging&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if parents would stop caring&lt;br /&gt;What if friends would stop sharing&lt;br /&gt;What if lovers would stop loving&lt;br /&gt;What if men would stop living&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if rivers would stop flowing&lt;br /&gt;What if boats would stop rowing&lt;br /&gt;What if lions would stop roaring&lt;br /&gt;What if eagles would stop soaring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if hearts would stop beating&lt;br /&gt;What if stoves would stop heating&lt;br /&gt;What if fire would stop burning&lt;br /&gt;What if the world would stop turning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if the world would stop&lt;br /&gt;What if the world would&lt;br /&gt;What if the world&lt;br /&gt;What if the&lt;br /&gt;What if&lt;br /&gt;What&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if all came to an end&lt;br /&gt;One thing would yet remain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His love be still the same!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-4407440732802371933?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/4407440732802371933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=4407440732802371933' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/4407440732802371933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/4407440732802371933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2007/02/what-if.html' title='What if...'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-1285220768213816098</id><published>2007-02-11T22:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T14:05:25.038-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking down a street one night</title><content type='html'>Did you not see me?&lt;br /&gt;             I guess I am easy to miss!&lt;br /&gt;Did you not see my need?&lt;br /&gt;             But why would you even care?&lt;br /&gt;Did you not hear me when I called?&lt;br /&gt;             Maybe I did not shout loud enough?&lt;br /&gt;Did you not notice my silent groan?&lt;br /&gt;             I can't blame you, no one ever does.&lt;br /&gt;Did you not realize my desperation?&lt;br /&gt;             I wish you had stopped and asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not feed me when I was hungry?&lt;br /&gt;             You had food in plenty, I saw you throw it away.&lt;br /&gt;             Maybe I would not have gone hungry that night.&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not clothe me when I was naked?&lt;br /&gt;             Your closet is full with things you don't need.&lt;br /&gt;             Maybe I would not have frozen in the cold.&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not give me a cup of cold water when I thirsted?&lt;br /&gt;             You have all the drink you need.  &lt;br /&gt;             Maybe I would not have gone hungry for the day.&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not give me a home to sleep when I was homeless?&lt;br /&gt;             You have so many empty rooms in your house.&lt;br /&gt;             Maybe I would have felt safe for once that night.&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not protect me when I was an orphan?&lt;br /&gt;             You looked like such a nice person.&lt;br /&gt;             Maybe I would have had a father once in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it is too late, you have gone past me and never even stopped and looked.&lt;br /&gt;Please look more careful when walking down a street next night!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-1285220768213816098?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/1285220768213816098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=1285220768213816098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/1285220768213816098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/1285220768213816098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2007/02/walking-down-street-one-night.html' title='Walking down a street one night'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116486427380435116</id><published>2006-11-29T21:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T21:25:47.256-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Healing a heart hurts</title><content type='html'>Sitting in a dark room&lt;br /&gt;In a world full of gloom&lt;br /&gt;Many times a heart has beat&lt;br /&gt;Before one finally takes a seat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silencing the past&lt;br /&gt;How long will it last&lt;br /&gt;Facing future's distance&lt;br /&gt;All in a single instance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The demons no longer hide&lt;br /&gt;As a cry rises deep inside&lt;br /&gt;Fighting is on the rise&lt;br /&gt;If only one could be wise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories long buried&lt;br /&gt;Brushed over and hurried&lt;br /&gt;Now speak too loud&lt;br /&gt;To stand the crowd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one hope&lt;br /&gt;Holding on to His rope&lt;br /&gt;He will pull me in&lt;br /&gt;Finding safety deep within&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A process has begun&lt;br /&gt;And I no longer run&lt;br /&gt;Friends will walk along&lt;br /&gt;He'll wipe away the wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facing the future&lt;br /&gt;Means facing the past&lt;br /&gt;And healing a heart&lt;br /&gt;Hurts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116486427380435116?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116486427380435116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116486427380435116' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116486427380435116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116486427380435116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/11/healing-heart-hurts.html' title='Healing a heart hurts'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116474926452560868</id><published>2006-11-28T13:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T21:07:07.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>If Dreams could dream,&lt;br /&gt;What would they dream?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Dreams could smile,&lt;br /&gt;Why would they smile?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Dreams could dance,&lt;br /&gt;What melody would be played?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Dreams could be real,&lt;br /&gt;What would reality look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Dreams could invade our present,&lt;br /&gt;How would we change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Dreams could never end,&lt;br /&gt;When would they start?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116474926452560868?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116474926452560868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116474926452560868' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116474926452560868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116474926452560868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/11/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116468117761356707</id><published>2006-11-27T18:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-27T18:32:57.613-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A man in dire need of a gracious God</title><content type='html'>There are these moments in life when you are struck by your own foolishness and helplessness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I had one of them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking along the street, rain was falling gently on my face, I talked to my God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly a song came to my mind and I started singing the words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need you more,&lt;br /&gt;More than yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;I need you more,&lt;br /&gt;More than ever before."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I reflected on the words of the song I began to doubt whether they are actually true-do I need God more today than yesterday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I don't! It is only due to my foolishness that I did not realize yesterday how much I actually need Him. This never changes. I need God in every situation, good or bad! In summer, winter, spring and fall! In the exciting times and in the every day normality of life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is my Creator, the Sustainer of Life. The One who gives me air to breathe, food to eat, rest at night! He is the One who upholds the whole universe by the word of His power. Every moment I live is owed to Him who made me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might forget this fact at times and then come back to realize it again but that does not mean that I need him more today than ever before. Before I was just to foolish to recognize my own helplessness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is so humbling but also incredibly encouraging because if all my life is owed to Him than why should I ever have to worry about anything, it is all in His hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued walking through the rain and this reality impressed itself so strongly on my heart that I felt I should share it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These moments are moments of grace that allows us to grasp reality as it truly is and then we remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, I am still a man in dire need of a gracious God!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116468117761356707?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116468117761356707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116468117761356707' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116468117761356707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116468117761356707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/11/man-in-dire-need-of-gracious-god_27.html' title='A man in dire need of a gracious God'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116366341891826665</id><published>2006-11-15T23:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-15T23:50:18.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grace like rain</title><content type='html'>Do we ever stop to consider?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider the grace that God pours over us every single day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Thanksgiving is approaching fast, which has always been my favorite holiday whenever I lived in the US, we should stop to consider his Grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, many of the people that I dearly love will get together and celebrate an early Thanksgiving dinner in Biola's Caf', for even this place can feel like home when there are people you love and who love you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so grateful tonight for a million things but here are some of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my roommate Andrew, for the friend he has become to me over the last year and half. For all the conversation with him when the lights are out and honesty prevails. For the oneness of mind, when we listen to our song: "Sunday, bloody Sunday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my bestfriend Hayden, such a man of God, one I would trust my life with any single moment. For all the deep and intimate moments we have had together in midst of the dark times of our time here but also the abundant laughter we shared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Scott, my short Asian friend, that has become so dear to me, much more than I usually let him know. Always seeking for the truth and willing to ask the hard question but also willing to seek advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Jason, my other suitemate, one could not find a more faithful friend and companion than him. For six months he drove me to therapy and I will never be able to repay him for all he has done for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Greg who only lives a few doors down from my room and whom I appreciate so much. Such a strong character and so willing to serve his king, always with an open ear and well-given advice, but also someone to rub shoulders with, which is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Alex, my RA, but he is so much more than that to me. We were roommates in Berkeley and have become friends over this last year, besides the fact that we share in a common passion for soccer and for the kingdom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Michael, such a brilliant mind that has allowed me to see God's kingdom in a very different light this semester. I think I have never met a person so passionate about apologetics as him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Cody, though he had to switch out of our group this semester, there are still these moments of deep conversation and he is someone who always forces me think harder about God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the girls in my group that have shown me what true Ladies look like and continue to astound me with their amazing talents. &lt;br /&gt;Only today, did I find out about Kyle's soccer skills, how could she hide that so long from me, not only is she brilliant and beautiful but she can also play soccer. &lt;br /&gt;For Carolyn, who always puts a smile on my face because she loves life and people but above all God. &lt;br /&gt;For Anja because she forces me think harder and because she is not willing to settle for less, she is our mysterious lady. &lt;br /&gt;For Alicia, force warrior princess, always willing to argue the impossible but not many make me seek truth more. &lt;br /&gt;For Sydney, we had our struggles last year but I have come to appreciate her so much and I am not sure that I have ever let her now that fact.&lt;br /&gt;For Lauren and the death glare but also her concern for all of us and her fine Victorian character. &lt;br /&gt;For Karissa, the party woman of our group, she sets up so  many birthday parties and any other event one could imagine, she is also like a sister to me. &lt;br /&gt;For Sarah and her concern for truth but also her easy outlook on life that forces me to take myself less serious, for being so gracious with me this semester. &lt;br /&gt;For Amanda, though I have not gotten to know her as much as the others due to the fact that she only joined us this semester but nevertheless have I appreciated all her insights. &lt;br /&gt;The same rings true for Jessica but I owe her so much for being so food coordinator for Torrey Orientation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Jonathan, who lives across from me, because he forces me to go out of my self and put myself in his place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Peter Gross, my djavisa, because even though we don't see each other that much lately, there is still a deep connection and I really regret that we don't see each other enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the other guys on my hall because I have already experienced more community this semester than all of last year. Guys like Christ Pang or Chris Lang, Dustin McCurry and so many others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the Torrey Freshmen and for the opportunity that I had this semester to serve them during Orientation and afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Jane Lauterbach who was the best Coordinator ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the people in ICS who force me think on a very different level from my normal thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the amazing opportunity to study at Biola! I can't even express my gratefulness for this amazing gift of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all my Torrey professors. But more than anyone Dr. Peters, so much more than an academic mentor-over the last year he has become a friend and spiritual mentor and not many people know me better. Thank you for Mr. Llizo, Ms. Schubert, Ms. Howington, Mr. Henderson, Dr. Sanders, Dr. Spears, Dr. Jenson, and especially Dr. Reynolds, for if not for him, I would not be here. Thank you for Hilary and Janna, an invaluable help for Orientation and any other question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my family back home though I don't get to see them but all the phone calls always encourage. My mom and dad for all the support over the last 22 years and for still backing me in prayer, even when I am so far. For Mirjam, whom I have not seen in a very long time and her husband Jens. For Debbie, little sister and beloved friend, how much I miss her. For Sara, how much closer have I grown to her this summer. For Joni, my brother, whom I struggle most not to see because I sometimes feel that I let him down. For Silas, the youngest, but so beloved. For my grandmas, Lord, may you lead them to the knowledge of You. For my uncle Werner who has made all this possible financially and for all my other relatives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my friends back home whom to count would take forever but who have a part in making me who I am today. Samu comes first, one of those special friends you really deserve. Wim another one, probably the friend that I have stayed in contact with the longest, man I love him. For Karin, a spiritual mother and a dear friend. Manu, there are not many man that I respect more than him nor love, and there is his wife Charlott and their wonderful kids. For Markus, how much he has meant to me over all these years, one of those people I will see somewhere in this world again. For Esther and Paul, my Russian brother, so dearly beloved, a warrior in prayer. For Thani, for Josh, for Jens and how many others. For Martin Steinraths, whom I have known since he was born. For Hr. Klein. For Dany and Anna. For Michael Schild. Forgive me, all those I forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my soccer kids on Friday, the joy of my week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Hayden's parents who have made their home my home. I love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the Sywulkas and their willingness to take care of me last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the Warkentins who are to this day a second family to me and I hope to see them this winter again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Aaron, a friend who is there when you least expect him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Jeff and all the smiles he has put on my face this semester and for his fiancee Megan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the ability to play sports again after my devastating accident last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For God allowing me to finish all my classes or so it looks like and for all he has taught me this semester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the seasons of life: Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Kind words spoken into a wounded soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could name so many more people but this list would never end but one person might have felt left out or forgotton but I didn't, for the last will be first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful for Michelle Edmonds!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace like rain washes over my soul as I think about God's aboundant blessings and my gaze is turned upward and I see the Father smilling at me. He points somewhere and as I look, I see a mount with three crosses and on the middle Cross my Lord hangs and he calls out: "Eli, Eli, lama sabachtani-My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that moment I grasp the truth, in this one instant in history the Father Heart has been revealed more than any time prior or after. God's love made manifest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grace like rain washes over me and I am lost, no more words to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High Fantasy lost power and here broke off;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, as a wheel moves smoothly, free from jars,&lt;br /&gt;My will and my desire were turned by love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Love that moves the Sun and the other Stars.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116366341891826665?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116366341891826665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116366341891826665' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116366341891826665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116366341891826665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/11/grace-like-rain.html' title='Grace like rain'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116295611830926994</id><published>2006-11-07T19:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T20:12:42.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Song of Abraham</title><content type='html'>One early morning&lt;br /&gt;Stirred by a deep yearning&lt;br /&gt;I left the comfort of my tent&lt;br /&gt;and followed a mysterious scent&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky was clear&lt;br /&gt;And no one else near&lt;br /&gt;I heard a voice&lt;br /&gt;Calling me to make a choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those dear to me&lt;br /&gt;Never again would I see&lt;br /&gt;Promise of a great nation&lt;br /&gt;and blessing to all generation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wife and nephew only&lt;br /&gt;I wondered often lonely&lt;br /&gt;To a land I did not know&lt;br /&gt;Daily my faith would grow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many years in that land&lt;br /&gt;The promised on which I stand&lt;br /&gt;No son had yet been born&lt;br /&gt;How often I felt so forlorn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I too old&lt;br /&gt;Had God really all this told&lt;br /&gt;Son of my maid&lt;br /&gt;Aside God had laid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All hope seemed lost&lt;br /&gt;Despite the high price it cost&lt;br /&gt;With a laughter full of scorn&lt;br /&gt;A son Isaac was born&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, old heart's joy&lt;br /&gt;Revived by that young boy&lt;br /&gt;All his promises God would fulfill&lt;br /&gt;It was a matter of divine will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a starless night&lt;br /&gt;All the world seemed right&lt;br /&gt;When the old, familiar voice&lt;br /&gt;Called for another choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart was torn&lt;br /&gt;Give up the one just born&lt;br /&gt;The Son of Promise and Calling&lt;br /&gt;All my hopes were falling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought this was his plan&lt;br /&gt;To work among my clan&lt;br /&gt;My world is shred to pieces&lt;br /&gt;My faith slowly ceases&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will climb this hill&lt;br /&gt;Surrender all my will&lt;br /&gt;For His thoughts are higher&lt;br /&gt;He is an all-consuming fire&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No sleep came that night&lt;br /&gt;For this was a hopeless fight&lt;br /&gt;Obedience was a must&lt;br /&gt;In God's power would I trust&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From nothing was I made&lt;br /&gt;Into nothing will I fade&lt;br /&gt;Resurrect my son from death&lt;br /&gt;Lies within the power of His breath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When morning finally came&lt;br /&gt;My limps had become lame&lt;br /&gt;Into my tent the boy ran&lt;br /&gt;Oh Daddy, be my biggest fan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears welled up within my chest&lt;br /&gt;Your daddy will no longer rest&lt;br /&gt;Come gather some wood&lt;br /&gt;We will travel far by foot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On and on we trudged&lt;br /&gt;My son never grudged&lt;br /&gt;Towards mount Moriah&lt;br /&gt;We made our slow Alijah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally we on top arrive&lt;br /&gt;One of us will not survive&lt;br /&gt;The wood on top I stack&lt;br /&gt;Ceaselessly my brain I rack&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have no animal, he says&lt;br /&gt;The last piece of wood lays&lt;br /&gt;My only son I tightly bind&lt;br /&gt;Even then his eyes so kind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Above my head I lift the knife&lt;br /&gt;To end most precious life&lt;br /&gt;My son now fully understands&lt;br /&gt;He will never roam through foreign lands&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Streams of tears run down my cheek&lt;br /&gt;Oh, how I want to drown in nearby creek&lt;br /&gt;The knife reflects the burning sun&lt;br /&gt;And all I want is run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, first faint and now clear&lt;br /&gt;The old familiar voice speaks near&lt;br /&gt;Abraham, Abraham&lt;br /&gt;I answer: Here I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't slay the boy&lt;br /&gt;You have brought me joy&lt;br /&gt;I know now that Me you fear&lt;br /&gt;So look quickly to your rear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There caught in a bush I saw a ram&lt;br /&gt;To replace the son of Abraham&lt;br /&gt;A lamb became the offering&lt;br /&gt;Died death of greatest suffering&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116295611830926994?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116295611830926994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116295611830926994' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116295611830926994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116295611830926994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/11/song-of-abraham.html' title='The Song of Abraham'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116219135796336700</id><published>2006-10-29T22:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T22:55:57.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life that demands a response</title><content type='html'>There has been an urgency in my spirit this whole last week and thoughts have formed in my mind that I can longer suppress. They need to be expressed or written down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In different conversations with very different people on different continents I have come to the same conclusion over and over again:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need to live a life that demands a response!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people meet me on the streets, at Starbucks, in the Cafeteria or anywhere on campus, does my life demand a response? No, it does not! People are indifferent about meeting me and the things I say. Their lives are not forever transformed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only explanation that I can find is that I am not enough with Jesus. His life always demanded a response. People either hated and rejected him or they loved him and accepted his message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can people be apathetic about what I say and the way I live my life? It lies in the fact that I am not enough with Him yet because if I were, they could no longer be indifferent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is time that people start to either hate me or accept the God of the universe who lives inside of me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How different would this world look like? This nation? This campus? People would actually live lives that demanded a response because they are constantly with Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My university should either be loved or hated but not accepted, it should be a thorn in the side of California because the life of this university demands a response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I living this life? No, I am far from it but I desire nothing more than this life that demands a response. Not because I desire a response but because I want to be with Jesus all the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just be! Forget about doing things for him, cease from all my work and just be with him and let him do in me, through me, with me whatever might bring most glory to HIM and His Name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us live this Life that demands a response-the life our Savior lived!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116219135796336700?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116219135796336700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116219135796336700' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116219135796336700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116219135796336700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/life-that-demands-response.html' title='Life that demands a response'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116132909587619820</id><published>2006-10-20T00:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T00:24:55.886-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Child for a night</title><content type='html'>Tonight this exuberant sense of joy overcame me and I just wanted to do something crazy and out of my mind, I was ready for anything. Since shared joy is doubled joy and sharing joy with three other quadruples the joy, I invited three of my dearest friends to join me, not telling them to what mischievous things we would be up tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The four of us slender along the path, when I started running and shouted "catch me if you can," and that is where the fun began. We ran to the soccer field, where we spinned around in circles like crazy till we would fall over each other and then we would lie in the grass and just look up into the sky. It was wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We lay there like a cross, head to head and looked up into the sky, praising our Maker and the One we love because he loved us first. We prayed, we rejoiced, we worshipped. It was a holy moment and the joy simply overcame me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up and leapt around, danced around, frolicked like a man out of his mind and my friends joined me into this extravaganza. We sang songs about being undignified and unashamed and shouted out our love for Him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we played catch and ran all over the field till there was no more energy left. Well, there was some left and so we pushed each other into the water sprinklers till we were thoroughly drenched. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so wonderful, being a child for a night again and not worrying about anything or anyone. Just me, my friends and our Maker!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled at us from Heaven, seeing his children rejoice and be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, out here in LA one is lucky to see a few stars, if one sees them at all but tonight. There were hundreds and thousands of stars clearly in the sky, one could no longer count them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave you with a quote from Dante's Paradise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"High phantasy lost power and here broke off;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, as a wheel moves smoothly, free from jars,&lt;br /&gt;My will and my desire were turned by love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Love that moves the sun and the other stars."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116132909587619820?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116132909587619820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116132909587619820' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116132909587619820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116132909587619820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/child-for-night.html' title='Child for a night'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116103477375553848</id><published>2006-10-16T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T14:40:19.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Embracing the Seasons</title><content type='html'>This summer I rode up to Berkeley with Bob Martin and Lailani Brim, it was a fun time and we had some great conversations but one stuck out to me and has now come back to the forefront of mind. We were discussing the question: "Why are all the Californian authors so negative and depressing? Why is there so much darkness in their writing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We began talking about the fact that there are no real seasons in most part of California, as it is the sunshine state and people all over the world have the idea that it is always summer in California, not only outwardly but also inwardly. But life has seasons and if one denies these, one will suffer greatly when summer is no longer, maybe this was what the Californian authors wrestled with in their writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my own life God has taught me once again to embrace the seasons of my life, as they are a vital and integral part of who I am and what his plan is for my life. Here are some poor reflections on this issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embracing the seasons&lt;br /&gt;Cherishing the change&lt;br /&gt;Living life to its fullest&lt;br /&gt;In the Hardships of Winter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trees are barren in winter&lt;br /&gt;And eagles don't fly&lt;br /&gt;How cold it is outside&lt;br /&gt;The world seems to stand still&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But roots grow deep in winter&lt;br /&gt;And eagles gather their strength&lt;br /&gt;There is a fire gleaming inside&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the world is waiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter teaches us to wait&lt;br /&gt;Our soul learns to trust&lt;br /&gt;A voice says&lt;br /&gt;Slow down-find rest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embracing winter seems hard&lt;br /&gt;Cherishing pain and sorrow&lt;br /&gt;Life appears to have lost&lt;br /&gt;And death has won&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember in winter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring will come&lt;br /&gt;Life again be bright&lt;br /&gt;But without roots&lt;br /&gt;Life will never last&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116103477375553848?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116103477375553848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116103477375553848' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116103477375553848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116103477375553848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/embracing-seasons.html' title='Embracing the Seasons'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116055349932929554</id><published>2006-10-11T00:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-11T00:58:19.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Freedom</title><content type='html'>"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death." Romans 8:1-2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This last week God has revolutionized my whole thinking, my whole view of him and it excites me so much that even though I am really tired, I need to write it all down, may it profit you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is hard to put into order and it might all seem really confused when you read it but it all makes sense to me now, after having a long conversation with my friend Scott.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God has given man freedom to choose and he has given us Christians a freedom to choose and there is no sin for the Christian when it is done in faith because the law of sin and death does no longer apply to us. Anything done in faith cannot be sin, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For whatever does not proceed form faith is sin." Romans 14:23&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the Christian only sins when he does not act in faith, when he does not desire the God's kingdom and his righteousness first, but rather lives not in faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The choice God has given us is like in Steinbeck's "East of Eden" timshel-thou mayest; he gives us freedom to choose and if we choose in faith, he is already guiding our path. He has given us the spirit of adoption and not of fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I realized that I had lived in fear of my Heavenly Father, I was constantly afraid to offend him and make a wrong choice when he was actually saying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All things are permissible (lawful) for me but not all are beneficial (helpful)." 1 Corinthians 6:12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understood what he meant when he said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." John 8:36&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luther was right when he talked about the "Freedom of a Christian," we are free to all and yet bound to all. The second part I have been expounding for quite some time in my mind, what it means to be a servant of all but now God is teaching me what it means to be free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart shouts, jumps for you, spins around and jubilee because the perfect love has cast out all fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a beautiful thing it is to realize that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death." Romans 8:1-2&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116055349932929554?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116055349932929554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116055349932929554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116055349932929554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116055349932929554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/freedom.html' title='Freedom'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116046036643126452</id><published>2006-10-09T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T23:06:59.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All is calm</title><content type='html'>I hear his voice calling&lt;br /&gt;"It is me, Peter!&lt;br /&gt;Don't you recognize me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the old familiar voice&lt;br /&gt;The voice that I have heard all my life&lt;br /&gt;A voice so sublime that I stop breathing&lt;br /&gt;When He speaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Step out on the water-&lt;br /&gt;Don't you trust me?&lt;br /&gt;Surely it will hold."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything in me wants to run towards him&lt;br /&gt;But I hesitate, what if it is not him?&lt;br /&gt;What if I am imagining all this?&lt;br /&gt;My heart sinks within me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again his voice calls, more gently now&lt;br /&gt;"My son, I have been waiting so long-&lt;br /&gt;When will you stop running away from me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One last thought but nothing can hold me now&lt;br /&gt;I step out of the boat.&lt;br /&gt;My feet touch the cold water&lt;br /&gt;And I begin to walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call out to him&lt;br /&gt;"I am coming, sweet Lord&lt;br /&gt;Wait for me, I am coming."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waves are rising high on both sides&lt;br /&gt;Fear rises within me&lt;br /&gt;My eyes lose sight of him in midst of the waves&lt;br /&gt;And I begin to sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desperately I call out to him&lt;br /&gt;"Dear Lord, I want to come,&lt;br /&gt;But I am sinking, please save me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the mist and the darkness&lt;br /&gt;I see a hand reaching out to me.&lt;br /&gt;He takes my hand and pulls me up-&lt;br /&gt;a gentle smile on his lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very near now he whispers&lt;br /&gt;"My son, do you trust me,&lt;br /&gt;will you walk with me wherever I go?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes rise higher until I see the stars&lt;br /&gt;Then I notice something strange,&lt;br /&gt;They seem to reflect a light&lt;br /&gt;And it comes from him who holds my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between tears I utter&lt;br /&gt;"Papa, I want to trust,&lt;br /&gt;I want to walk this road with you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look around me&lt;br /&gt;Something has changed.&lt;br /&gt;Everything is silent-&lt;br /&gt;All is calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sweetest voice ever heard says to me&lt;br /&gt;"Peace I leave with you;&lt;br /&gt;my peace I give to you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116046036643126452?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116046036643126452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116046036643126452' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116046036643126452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116046036643126452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/all-is-calm.html' title='All is calm'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116028854038122851</id><published>2006-10-07T23:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T23:22:20.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why run?</title><content type='html'>A friend asked me a question the other day and he was the second friend to ask me that question as of late:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are you running away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I knew, I would have given an answer but I just did not know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running seems like such a good option at first glance but the more you consider it the less attractive it becomes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why run?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not confront the demons that are hunting me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not deal with the past that seems so dark?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not face the future that is looming over the horizon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why not step out on the water and walk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why run?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we ever be certain of anything?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a discussion with two very wise friends, we came to this conclusion and it seems so true. In this life we can never be certain propositionally but we can be certain positionally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does that mean?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We can know that he is God and that we are his children. Be sure that he is in control and that he will catch us when we fall?&lt;br /&gt;Our end is secure, our relationship is sealed but beyond that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would it be faith, if we could be absolutely certain, wouldn't it just be obedience? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a dreadful thing to step out on the water. It scares me so much. But then I see Jesus and he says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are you running away from me? Step out on the water and walk with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why run, if he calls?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116028854038122851?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116028854038122851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116028854038122851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116028854038122851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116028854038122851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/why-run.html' title='Why run?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-116002457052477762</id><published>2006-10-04T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T22:03:37.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When God speaks</title><content type='html'>When God speaks~&lt;br /&gt;We should hear it&lt;br /&gt;But what if our hearts&lt;br /&gt;Can no longer hear his voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stille~&lt;br /&gt;So schwer zu ertragen&lt;br /&gt;und doch so lebensnotwendig&lt;br /&gt;Wie die Luft zum Atmen&lt;br /&gt;Wie das Wasser zum Trinken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Einsamkeit~&lt;br /&gt;Du bist so allein&lt;br /&gt;und doch so reich umgeben&lt;br /&gt;Leben ohne Menschen&lt;br /&gt;Menschen ohne Leben&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When God speaks~&lt;br /&gt;He whispers gently&lt;br /&gt;Screams loudly&lt;br /&gt;Telling silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sehnsucht~&lt;br /&gt;Wer kann sie stillen&lt;br /&gt;ohne sie zu ersticken&lt;br /&gt;Feuer voller Hoffnung&lt;br /&gt;Glaube voller Freude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friede~&lt;br /&gt;Die Seele kommt zu Ruhe&lt;br /&gt;wissend das Du weisst&lt;br /&gt;Erkannt und doch geliebt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When God speaks~&lt;br /&gt;He knows us&lt;br /&gt;Gives answers needed&lt;br /&gt;Never expected responses&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gebet~&lt;br /&gt;Tiefe Gewissheit "Er hört"&lt;br /&gt;Antworten unverstanden&lt;br /&gt;Denoch tief verstanden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perspektiven~&lt;br /&gt;Träume realisieren&lt;br /&gt;Realität träumen&lt;br /&gt;Denn ER IST&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When God speaks~&lt;br /&gt;He speaks&lt;br /&gt;Will I hear&lt;br /&gt;Step out on the water&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-116002457052477762?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/116002457052477762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=116002457052477762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116002457052477762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/116002457052477762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/10/when-god-speaks.html' title='When God speaks'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115933475494706559</id><published>2006-09-26T22:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T22:25:54.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heaven</title><content type='html'>"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." -Revelation 21:4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does that mean? It sounds so beautiful but how does this really look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After talking to a very good friend today, I began thinking about this and here are my thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Heaven we will all understand each other perfectly. There will be no more miscommunication and no more misunderstandings. No more harsh words and quick judgments. We will all understand and be understood. No language barriers will hinder us from expressing what we really want to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Heaven we will know each other perfectly. We will know as we are known by Him. Differences will no longer separate us from intimate fellowship. Age, gender, and race won't divide us any longer but rather add to the beauty of heaven. No more hidden thoughts or unspoken words-we will simply know each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Heaven we will see each other perfectly. We will see each other as God sees us and we will be overwhelmed by the beauty of God's goodness. Beyond the outside facade our eyes will see and transparency and honesty will rule all of our days. Perfect vision will be granted in the sight of Him who is perfect light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does this all matter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems as though pain results when people misunderstand each other. Tears flow when we don't know each other. Mourning and crying are born from our imperfect vision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am longing to understand, know, see each of you, my friends, perfectly but until then, please forgive me for coming short. Forgive me for miscommunicating, for unwise words, for rash judgments and dull vision. Forgive me that I don't see you as you truly are, don't know you through and through, don't understand you as you deserve to be understand. Please have mercy on me and help me to get a step closer to truly know, understand and see you are due.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, my friends!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115933475494706559?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115933475494706559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115933475494706559' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115933475494706559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115933475494706559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/heaven_115933475494706559.html' title='Heaven'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115925365507676471</id><published>2006-09-25T23:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T23:54:15.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When longing consumes you</title><content type='html'>A burning passion is rising within my soul&lt;br /&gt;For a long time it had only been coals preserving the heat&lt;br /&gt;But a fresh wind is blowing on it&lt;br /&gt;And the sparks are flying high&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beyond expression are the desires within me&lt;br /&gt;Wanting to scream but there are no words to scream&lt;br /&gt;Tears have been my daily bread&lt;br /&gt;While my soul was wasting away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is wind in those sails blowing hard&lt;br /&gt;The road is sloping down and my bike has no breaks&lt;br /&gt;What will stop the things that have begun&lt;br /&gt;A longing that consumes all that I am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things above call for my attention&lt;br /&gt;While this earth is slowly fading out of view&lt;br /&gt;Seeing as He sees this world&lt;br /&gt;May his eyes be my guide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quiet voice calls me almost inaudible&lt;br /&gt;But my whole being is drawn to it&lt;br /&gt;Crying "Abba-Loving Father"&lt;br /&gt;Strong arms are waiting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more days, no more nights&lt;br /&gt;A life lived for the One I love&lt;br /&gt;Who loved me first&lt;br /&gt;And calls me his Son&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115925365507676471?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115925365507676471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115925365507676471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115925365507676471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115925365507676471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/when-longing-consumes-you.html' title='When longing consumes you'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115869659178635831</id><published>2006-09-19T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-19T13:09:52.146-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The weeping warrior's smile</title><content type='html'>There in the High Tower of the Castle Lord Kartan rose from his knees, all the world was holding its breath waiting. The tears on his face had not yet tried but reflected the rays of sunlight into all directions. No whisper was heard as he descended down the steps of the tower into the open court of the castle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing had changed but something was different. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was fire in his eyes, fire so bright that even the sun could not compete with the intensity displayed in Lord Kartan's eyes. He ordered his former servant to bring his old stallion who rejoiced at the sight of his master. The stallion kneeled down allowing Lord Kartan to mount and then rose to full height, proudly presenting his Lord. Drawn sword in his hand Lord Kartan rode out of the deserted castle into the open country, the stallion's feet were flying over the green grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone he and his stallion rode towards their destiny, he would not rest till he had avenged his parent's death and freed his beautiful bride, not even death or hell would stop him now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he crossed the mountains surrounding his castle, he blew his horn, the horn of friendship and from distant mountain peeks echoed the response. His friends had heard him and would meet him at the appointed place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Kartan drew his sword and then commanded his stallion to run as swift as the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rushing down the mountain into uncertainty, war and death, something odd happened, his eyes burned even brighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he smiled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115869659178635831?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115869659178635831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115869659178635831' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115869659178635831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115869659178635831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/weeping-warriors-smile.html' title='The weeping warrior&apos;s smile'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115854266410443796</id><published>2006-09-17T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T18:25:27.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Warriors Weep III</title><content type='html'>There he sat broken and blind&lt;br /&gt;The water streamed down is aching body&lt;br /&gt;Tears mixed with the gentle stroke of the shower&lt;br /&gt;There sat the wounded warrior and wept&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wept like there would be no tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;Worlds faded slowly in front of his eyes&lt;br /&gt;Within this moment he was lost and as he&lt;br /&gt;Wept a song rose in his heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heart so confused, so deeply wounded&lt;br /&gt;Heaven seemed far and yet so near&lt;br /&gt;"Help" he cried but no one answered&lt;br /&gt;Heart in dismay for no one to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the sky, even the sun seems to hide&lt;br /&gt;Smile, how could he smile when&lt;br /&gt;Sorrows towering so high over his head&lt;br /&gt;See the heart and hear his cries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cries so silent, so desperate&lt;br /&gt;Can this heart be healed&lt;br /&gt;Child, why are you so hurt&lt;br /&gt;Cries no one can bear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bear with me, my friends&lt;br /&gt;Because the valley seems so dark&lt;br /&gt;Borrow a sword and fight&lt;br /&gt;Bear it bravely, for I need You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You I have loved so deeply&lt;br /&gt;You never saw that I was week&lt;br /&gt;Yet there remains no strength in me&lt;br /&gt;You I need or all else is failing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Failing to see, failing to hear&lt;br /&gt;Falling but no longer rising&lt;br /&gt;Friends, where are you&lt;br /&gt;Failing here will mean the end&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of all hopes, end of all dreams&lt;br /&gt;Eat drink and be merry&lt;br /&gt;Erring to see the light&lt;br /&gt;End here or end there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There he sat broken and blind&lt;br /&gt;The water streamed down is aching body&lt;br /&gt;Tears mixed with the gentle stroke of the shower&lt;br /&gt;There sat the wounded warrior and wept&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a gentle whisper says:&lt;br /&gt;"I have heard, I have seen, I will speak, I will act, &lt;br /&gt;but more than that I feel what you feel, my son!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But "how?" he cried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My son, you need to die in every way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is so hard."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My son, is that a price you are willing to pay?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the weeping warrior sang the words of a friend:&lt;br /&gt;"And even if that means that I need to die in every way, &lt;br /&gt;I wanna tell you, Jesus, that this is a price I am willing to pay."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115854266410443796?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115854266410443796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115854266410443796' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115854266410443796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115854266410443796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/when-warriors-weep-iii.html' title='When Warriors Weep III'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115853638212315486</id><published>2006-09-17T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T16:39:42.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Teach me to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teach me to trust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teach me to know not knowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Teach me certain uncertainty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else could I pray?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115853638212315486?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115853638212315486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115853638212315486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115853638212315486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115853638212315486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/teach-me-to-wait.html' title=''/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115834837459012101</id><published>2006-09-15T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T12:26:14.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>Why does the Lord have to make my life so complicate?&lt;br /&gt;       Why can't he just for once reveal all things clear?&lt;br /&gt;           Why is it that everyone gets it and I don't?&lt;br /&gt;               Why does he speak only in riddles?&lt;br /&gt;                  Why can't one day be simple?&lt;br /&gt;                     Why is life not different?&lt;br /&gt;                        Why are you hiding?&lt;br /&gt;                           Why my Lord?&lt;br /&gt;                             Why Lord?&lt;br /&gt;                                 Why?&lt;br /&gt;                               Where?&lt;br /&gt;                           Where Lord?&lt;br /&gt;                        When my Lord?&lt;br /&gt;                     Where am I hiding?&lt;br /&gt;                  Where find I life's fullest?&lt;br /&gt;                When will my days be free?&lt;br /&gt;            Where do all things become clear?&lt;br /&gt;         Where will we no longer be different?&lt;br /&gt;     When will I be able to see Him and his ways?&lt;br /&gt; Where will I know him and all is well with my soul?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115834837459012101?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115834837459012101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115834837459012101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115834837459012101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115834837459012101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115829069618635678</id><published>2006-09-14T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T21:56:50.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Death</title><content type='html'>What is death~&lt;br /&gt;But the fulfillment of all I hope&lt;br /&gt;The end of all I desire&lt;br /&gt;Freedom from all I loath&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is a knife~&lt;br /&gt;But the path to that fulfillment&lt;br /&gt;The road to all ends&lt;br /&gt;The doorway to freedom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is life~&lt;br /&gt;But the culmination of all my sorrows&lt;br /&gt;The memorial of all my pains&lt;br /&gt;Wounds so deep never healed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is a cliff&lt;br /&gt;But the first step to flying&lt;br /&gt;Never again to fall&lt;br /&gt;Finally safe, finally free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is Losing life~&lt;br /&gt;But only gaining what I was made for&lt;br /&gt;Ending all that keeps me from it&lt;br /&gt;Escape from the prison that holds me so tight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is death~&lt;br /&gt;But a new beginning&lt;br /&gt;A beginning without end&lt;br /&gt;A life everlasting&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115829069618635678?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115829069618635678/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115829069618635678' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115829069618635678'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115829069618635678'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/death.html' title='Death'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115826527587872986</id><published>2006-09-14T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T13:21:15.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why, O my soul</title><content type='html'>This morning my roommate Andrew read me a little passage from Anselm's Prayer to Christ, since then I have read it again and again. May you be blessed as you read these words and contemplate on the depths of their meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, O my soul, were you not there&lt;br /&gt;to be pierced by a sword of bitter sorrow&lt;br /&gt;when you could not bear&lt;br /&gt;the piercing of the side of your Savior with a lance?&lt;br /&gt;Why could you not bear to see&lt;br /&gt;the nails violate the hands and feet of your Creator?&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not see with horror&lt;br /&gt;the blood that poured out of the side of your Redeemer?&lt;br /&gt;Why were you not drunk with bitter tears&lt;br /&gt;when they gave him bitter gall to drink?&lt;br /&gt;Why did you not share&lt;br /&gt;the sufferings of the most pure virgin,&lt;br /&gt;his worthy mother and your gentle lady?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on it says...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What shall I say? What shall I do? Whither should I go?&lt;br /&gt;Where shall I seek him? Where and when shall I find him?&lt;br /&gt;Whom shall I ask? Who will tell me of my beloved?&lt;br /&gt;'for I am sick from love'.&lt;br /&gt;'The joy of my heart fails me';&lt;br /&gt;my laughter 'is turned to mourning';&lt;br /&gt;'my heart and my flesh fail me';&lt;br /&gt;'but God is the strength of my heart, my portion forever.'&lt;br /&gt;'My soul refuses confort,' unless from you, my dear.&lt;br /&gt;'Whom have I in heaven but you,&lt;br /&gt;and what do I desire upon earth besides you?"&lt;br /&gt;I want you, I hope for you, I seek you;&lt;br /&gt;'to you my heart has said, seek my face';&lt;br /&gt;'your face, Lord, have I sought;&lt;br /&gt;turn not your face from me.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At then it ends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord, meawhile, let my tears be my meat day and night,&lt;br /&gt;until they say to me, 'Behold your God,'&lt;br /&gt;until I hear, 'Soul, behold your bridegroom.'&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, let me be fed with griefs,&lt;br /&gt;andlet my tears be my drink;&lt;br /&gt;comfort me with sorrows.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps then my Redeemer will come to me,&lt;br /&gt;for he is good;&lt;br /&gt;he is kind, he will not tarry,&lt;br /&gt;to whom be glory for ever. Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From "The Prayers and Meditions of Saint Anselm"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115826527587872986?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115826527587872986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115826527587872986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115826527587872986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115826527587872986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/why-o-my-soul.html' title='Why, O my soul'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115821519421083335</id><published>2006-09-13T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T23:31:28.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is a tear?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/drop_1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/200/drop_1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one could catch a single tear&lt;br /&gt;What would one find?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Water~&lt;br /&gt;It is only a small drop&lt;br /&gt;to insignificant to even be noticed&lt;br /&gt;All the oceans and seas&lt;br /&gt;Isn't there enough water in this world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one could catch a single tear&lt;br /&gt;What would one find?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salt~&lt;br /&gt;It is only a tiny amount&lt;br /&gt;to quickly desolved for one to care&lt;br /&gt;Though the world needs salt&lt;br /&gt;Or none of us would live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one could catch a single tear&lt;br /&gt;What would one find?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world~&lt;br /&gt;It holds all of it&lt;br /&gt;The dreams and fears&lt;br /&gt;The joys and sorrows&lt;br /&gt;And my heart within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one tear is shed&lt;br /&gt;Who could ever restore it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe You~&lt;br /&gt;The one who holds the sun&lt;br /&gt;the stars and the moon in his hand&lt;br /&gt;The one who made all this&lt;br /&gt;And my heart within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one tear is shed&lt;br /&gt;Who could ever restore it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe they~&lt;br /&gt;Who caused the tear to fall&lt;br /&gt;By words and actions&lt;br /&gt;Too hard to bear &lt;br /&gt;For the wounded heart within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one tear is shed&lt;br /&gt;Who could ever restore it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you~&lt;br /&gt;But it was for you&lt;br /&gt;That the tear was shed&lt;br /&gt;Not for you that&lt;br /&gt;This heart was broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If one could catch a single tear&lt;br /&gt;What would one find?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me~&lt;br /&gt;All my life is fading away&lt;br /&gt;And all there is left&lt;br /&gt;Is one small tear&lt;br /&gt;Fallen to the ground.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115821519421083335?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115821519421083335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115821519421083335' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115821519421083335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115821519421083335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-is-tear.html' title='What is a tear?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115809160320950964</id><published>2006-09-12T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T13:16:09.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The old Dragon</title><content type='html'>Weary Eyes gazed into the distant horizon&lt;br /&gt;Heavy limbs protested against every movement&lt;br /&gt;Dry nostrils breathed its last cloud of smoke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Endless days and nights these eyes had seen&lt;br /&gt;Thousand times these limbs had lifted him up&lt;br /&gt;Hundred villages these nostrils had burned&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hungry jaws fletched one last time&lt;br /&gt;Broken wings depraved of strength fo fly&lt;br /&gt;Moveless tail had lost its will to fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Countless warriors these jaws had eaten&lt;br /&gt;Lofty heigths these wings had seen&lt;br /&gt;Vicious knights this tail had killed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he lay there, weary and tired&lt;br /&gt;No more knights he would fight&lt;br /&gt;No more warriors he would kill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he lay there, exhausted and lame&lt;br /&gt;No more countries he would lay waste&lt;br /&gt;No more castles he would destroy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now he lay there, silent and numb&lt;br /&gt;No more maides he would rob&lt;br /&gt;No more ladies he would steal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He opened his eyes one last time&lt;br /&gt;And it seemed as though the heavens wept&lt;br /&gt;When this old and dreadful dragon died&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115809160320950964?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115809160320950964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115809160320950964' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115809160320950964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115809160320950964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/old-dragon.html' title='The old Dragon'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115803922976806182</id><published>2006-09-11T22:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T13:14:44.483-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Warriors Weep II</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/DSCF0880.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/DSCF0880.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a quite and peaceful morning. The sun was not yet strong enough to push brother fog out of the way and so a light mist remained over the valley. The birds sang a silent song as Lord Kartan slowly rode over the green hills. Those hills he had not seen for many years and as he passed over the highest point of the northern ascent, he told his horse: "Speed up, my friend, we are almost home. Finally were we wanted to be all these years." The old horse ignored her aching bones and galloped down into the valley near where she was born and where she would now die. The crusades had left her mark on the proud horse and she no longer desired adventure, only to die in peace upon the green hills of her master. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eager expectation filled the face of Lord Kartan who had waited so long for his very moment, to be united with the bride of his youth, whom he had left only to follow his King. Now it was their time, time to enjoy, time to frollic and to praise the one who had made them. His face had grown weary during those years of constant battle, he no longer looked like the boy that had left his father seven years ago, no he had become a man and even the strongest could not withstand his sword. But even could not save his king from the ambush that had cost his life, what would he give to be in the place of his king.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The closer he came to the little castle that he called his home, the more pressing the silence he grew but Kartan did not notice, so eager was he to return home. Not even when he saw the doors standing wide open, he found nothing unusual. He jumped off his horse and walked up the steps to the banquet room where he expected everyone to be since no one had greeted him at the door. Something wonderful must have happen and his heart began to pound madly with excitement, for he would only add to their joy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He entered the room and still there was silence, silence of death, silence of unutterable grief and now he woke as from a deep sleep. No one was there, no voice was heard. Running quickly out of the castle he stumbled down the steps only to bump into an old beggar. At first he was inclined to push him out of the way but then he restrained himself and looked closer. The longer he looked, the more familiar the face appeared to him, when the old beggar spoke:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is it you, Lord Kartan?" "Yes, it is me, Cassius." He had recognized his old servant and suddenly it dawned upon him seeing his servant dressed like a beggar. Breaking out in tears Cassius uttered: "I am so sorry, they are all gone. I have buried your father and mother with my own hands. Your bride..." There he broke off but he needed to speak no further, Kartan knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madly he rushed up to the High Tower of the Castle and there in the top room he fell on his knees and cried, cried like the world had no end. Serving his king he had lost his family, his servants and the love of his life had been carried off into foreign lands. The wailing of Kartan echoed through the whole valley and no bird sang, neither did the wind blow or the rivers rush, while this warrior wept.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115803922976806182?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115803922976806182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115803922976806182' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115803922976806182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115803922976806182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/when-warriors-weep-ii.html' title='When Warriors Weep II'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115796081763521469</id><published>2006-09-11T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T00:48:55.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Warriors Weep</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/2005%2004%2002_14%2046%2046_HS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:central; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/2005%2004%2002_14%2046%2046_HS.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are those times in your life when things don't make sense...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those times when the Lord says: "Wait!" But all you want to do is run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are those times when darkness seems to cover all our horizon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those times when the Lord says: "Be still!" But silence seems unendurable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are those times when warriors weep and dragons die...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those times when and the Lord says: "I am strong." But weakness fills our limbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can we live in those times?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115796081763521469?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115796081763521469/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115796081763521469' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115796081763521469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115796081763521469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/when-warriors-weep.html' title='When Warriors Weep'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115752123052240989</id><published>2006-09-05T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T22:40:30.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beauty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/Green%20Mirror.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/Green%20Mirror.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the mean between beauty and efficiency?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the mean between beauty and functionality?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the mean between beauty and expediency?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does it mean for our Lord to say to us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have done a beautiful thing to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115752123052240989?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115752123052240989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115752123052240989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115752123052240989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115752123052240989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/beauty.html' title='Beauty'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115750522434715533</id><published>2006-09-05T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T18:13:44.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of irritations and surprises</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/Morning%20Fog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/Morning%20Fog.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To you know those moments when you learn something that changes your life drastically?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had many of those moments within the past 10 days and it rocked my world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing is this, the concept of irritations and surprises--it works like this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprise (Excess)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Norm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irritation (Deprevation)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has certain norms and expectations in their lives, usually they are connected with family, friends and culture.&lt;br /&gt;If something happens during the day that exceeds our norms, we will be surprised, if it falls short of our norms, we are irritated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example from my life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I meet new people here in the States, they are usually very friendly right away, which surprises me since in my own culture people would be a lot more reserved.&lt;br /&gt;The friendship progresses and since we were on such friendly terms right from the start, I open myself up and expect to go deeper in our friendship because that's what people do where I grew up once they give up their reservations and become friendly. Now they share deep friendships. Here I often overwhelm people with my openness, while I am irritated because they are not becoming as vulnerable and open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All our days are full of these situations and it is good to know that these are natural things based on our differences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize that I can't jump to my conclusion and go so far because people are not ready for that yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am only beginning to understand how different I am from the culture I live in and it frustrates me, it hurts me and it reveals to me sides and evils within my heart that I never knew were there.&lt;br /&gt;My professor encouragement me by making so clear that I am just going through the most natural thing that happens when you live in a different culture. Now is the time to recognize my depression and to find ways of growing out of the depths that I have been finding myself in for many months now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God still loves me, even though I seem incapable of getting my act together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115750522434715533?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115750522434715533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115750522434715533' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115750522434715533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115750522434715533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/of-irritations-and-surprises.html' title='Of irritations and surprises'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115743469838391386</id><published>2006-09-04T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T22:38:18.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am such a fool</title><content type='html'>I don't understand God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I am such a fool and prideful man he seems to still love me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love me so much that he answers mountains on my behalf. As one of the characters in my story expresses it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The story of love, love magnificent, love self-giving, love in defeat ultimately triumphing." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not deserve any of what he does in my life and still he showers his mercies upon me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am such a fool, yet he loves me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The man who nailed his hands and his feet to that rugged cross!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Jesus,  have mercy on me, a sinner!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115743469838391386?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115743469838391386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115743469838391386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115743469838391386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115743469838391386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-am-such-fool.html' title='I am such a fool'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-115692384020622398</id><published>2006-08-30T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T00:44:55.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why can't we?</title><content type='html'>I am just wondering why can't we devote ourselves to God like St. Francis?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is Biola's campus so lukewarm, so undecided, so double-minded?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People live Christianity more as a leisure activity than as a whole life commitment-how dare we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I so little affecting people and why is my prayer not moving the heavens and let his glory rain from up above?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so sick and tired of this life that leaves no marks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouldn't we bear scars that everyone could see, if we had really been baptized in Spirit and fire?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't Biola be the One place that changes the world radically?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why don't the people threat to kill us or follow our lead? What are we missing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are You, my God and my King?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-115692384020622398?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/115692384020622398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=115692384020622398' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115692384020622398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/115692384020622398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/08/why-cant-we.html' title='Why can&apos;t we?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114344334666103666</id><published>2006-03-26T22:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-26T23:09:07.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What it means to glorify God?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/2005%2003%2026_11%2004%2023_RG.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/2005%2003%2026_11%2004%2023_RG.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/2005%2004%2002_06%2051%2024_PH.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/2005%2004%2002_06%2051%2024_PH.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I was eating lunch with a few friends at the house of very friendly Lady that invited us over for tritip? It was delicious, how else could it have been. It was a wonderful time and it was awesome to get to know someone older from church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While eating we had an interesting conversation, in which this question came up: What does it mean to glorify God? How do we glorify God? Hayden suggested that it is given God his proper place. But what is his proper place, what does he truly deserve?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what got me thinking, what does it actually mean to glorify God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It means that I must decrease, so that he can increase! It means that I must bow lower, so that he may be higher in my life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked myself a further question: How much did he do for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer is so simple, but still so incomprehensible: He did all! He is the very Life that I live, he is the Love that I give, he is the Truth that I speak, he is the mercy that I show, he is the Beauty I see, he is the kindness I experience, he is all in all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what does that mean? I do not understand, I am just lost in my Father's arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still he did so much more, not only did he create all just for my enjoyment, no he did so much more. He gave his very self, his Son on that rugged Cross, so that I could not only experience all of the above, but his very self! That is what man is made for that is what I desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do I glorify God?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By giving my very self, my all, my every breath. Everything less is dishonoring to God and I should not even bother. He deserves my all and even that is not enough. Still that's what I will give and nothing less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not rest and not halt until the day that he returns in all his glory or until the last drop of my blood has been spilled and he calls me home to himself, saying: "Well done, my good and faithful servant!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114344334666103666?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114344334666103666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114344334666103666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114344334666103666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114344334666103666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-it-means-to-glorify-god.html' title='What it means to glorify God?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114335883647766957</id><published>2006-03-25T23:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T23:40:36.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why did I ever see this movie?</title><content type='html'>I do not know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the movies feeling sick and angry or better to say saddened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can one movie do so much damage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart cries out as I think about both the depictions of the Israelis and the Palestinians in the movie. I love both of them and then I see a movie such as this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did I ever see it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114335883647766957?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114335883647766957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114335883647766957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114335883647766957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114335883647766957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/why-did-i-ever-see-this-movie.html' title='Why did I ever see this movie?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114258737885498133</id><published>2006-03-17T00:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T13:05:27.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When He speaks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/2005%2005%2022_05%2000%2005_PH.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/2005%2005%2022_05%2000%2005_PH.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/2005%2003%2026_16%2042%2014_PM.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/2005%2003%2026_16%2042%2014_PM.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the scriptures." (Luke 24:32)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just how I felt this evening between 7-8:30 pm, when God spoke to my heart for about an hour and a half and even beyond that. I had the amazing opportunity to hear  Taysir Abu Saada speak tonight and it was the best thing that could have happened today. I was hoping to hear some interesting stories, but my expectations were utterly disappointed, God had so much better plans for me. Not only was the story of Taysir's life absolute amazing, but God used his words to speak to my heart in a way that is even rare for me. My heart burned within me for the voice of God was so clear, reminding me of so many things he had said in the past. God is so wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven years ago God began an amazing work in my life, bringing me to my knees to repent on the behalf of my people and the sins we have commited against God's chosen people. He placed such a love for Israel and the Holy Land in my heart and it began to ever increase. When I finally got the chance to go to Israel last Spring I was overjoyous, I had prayed for this for so long and now God allowed me to go. I had all these expectations of how it is going to be like, but God had other plans as usual in my life. He had decided to teach me some very important truths and enlarge my scope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in Israel, I did not really care about all the "holy places", I was rather filled with love and compassion for the people. But not only the Israelis, no, God had decided to place a burden on my heart for the Palestinians. He began talking to me about Ishmael and how the whole conflict is brother slaughter, Isaac and Ishmael and how God is so grieved about it. He has a plan for both of them yet and both of them need Christ, the Hope of Isaac and Ishmael. While the group  I was with put all their emphasis on the Israelis and how it was their land given by God, my heart was thinking about the message of love that we have to send to both of them, for Love overcomes all hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One Incident really stuck to my mind and that was when one night we got back from a long trip through Jerusalem and on our way to the hotel, we stopped by this memorial place, it was getting dark and everyone wanted to go back to the hotel. But there were these fifteen Palestinian kids playing soccer and I could not help but get out of the bus and play with them. Joined by four of my friends, the only other young people on the trip we played with the kids for a long time till it was pitch dark and then walked back to the hotel. The place where this happened was just across Bethlehem. It was so awesome because before we felt like foreigners, but after this we were no longer strangers. That's when my love for the Palestinians was sparked. Later we got to go to the Gaza strip and the West Bank and see the need there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since then I wanted to go back and felt even stronger that God calls me at least for some time there to be a peacemaker, to be a bearer of his love and mercy. I am willing to lay down my life to see these kids in the streets of Ramalah and Gaza come to Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the opportunities were not there or so it seemed and I was still praying for internships and other opportunities and when Baroness Cox said that she might have the ability to get me into Sudan I was excited, though it was not what I felt God's ultimate plan was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then tonight came, Taysir told us his story, which is unbelievable and shared his vision with us. He will be moving back to Gaza, the place of his birth and do ministry in form of humanitarian aid there. They are renting a big house for several years. While he was talking, I could hardly sit still, for I was so excited and as soon as it was done, I jumped up and talked to him, shared what I just wrote and told him, how I would love to go and help him whenever there is a possibility, maybe coaching soccer and doing a few other things and he told me to send him an email, so that he can put me on the list for going, whenever it is safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards I went outside crying, being overwhelmed by the goodness of my God and the amazing ways he works, I praised him, while my heart was leaping. And then this verse came to my mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the scriptures." (Luke 24:32)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He spoke to me tonight, may he speak to all of You as well, just be prepared for it will come when you least expect it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114258737885498133?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114258737885498133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114258737885498133' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114258737885498133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114258737885498133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/when-he-speaks.html' title='When He speaks'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114232700785867519</id><published>2006-03-14T00:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T01:03:27.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What do I value?</title><content type='html'>Today something unexpected happened, after session I stumbled headlong into a discussion over Disneyland and Disney in general. It got pretty heated and to my surprise there were a lot more emotions involved than I had imagined, but that's how it is sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I really do not care about Disney or Disneyland, they are no concern to me. But something else concerns me and that is my friends, I love them dearly and I do not mean to hurt or offend them, especially over an issue that does not matter to me. So Herewith I apologize to Wren, Sarah, Greg and Sidney, I hope you will continue to enjoy what you like and do not listen to me in this regard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I grew up with Disney myself, my dad bought all the movies up to a certain point, when the quality decreased and the morality got more questionable. I loved Robin Hood as a fox, he is still one of my all time favorites, but I never had the desire for Disneyland, maybe because it was so unrealistic living in Germany. And when I finally went in 2002, I was not intruiged at all, it just did not appeal to me, nothing that makes me want to pay money for it. But that does not mean that others can or should not enjoy it, I just don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me other things are important, especially at this moment in my life! For the last few years I have been living my dreams or better to say: God's dreams for my life! Saving every penny to make yet another travel, go yet to another place and share what I am truly passionate about and that is HIM! This is what I am here for and that's what I am dying for, if that is the road ahead of me. All for the glory of my King!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is what I truly value! Christ my King and Savior of my wretched life. But I also value my friends and there lives and memories do matter to me, just not as much as my King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love You&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114232700785867519?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114232700785867519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114232700785867519' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114232700785867519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114232700785867519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-do-i-value.html' title='What do I value?'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114223731240599369</id><published>2006-03-12T23:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T00:11:11.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Running</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/1600/DSCF0214.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7070/2076/320/DSCF0214.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I ran for the first time since I tore my ACL and Meniscus last summer during Torrey Orientation. And though I despise running, it felt so good to just run and sprint. Yes, there was some pain in my knee and yes, I was easily tired since I am not used to running anymore, but still it was so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God is healing my knee and he will restore me completely, so that I can play soccer and volleyball again and do all the other active and fun stuff again that I love to do and that glorify my Papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am writing this, I think about a race that You and I am in. A race that is so much more important than any competition that I could ever be in, even in comparison to the Olympic race this one is so much bigger. It has the greatest prize in store for those who win, so that's why I should race with all that I have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds me of something a few years ago. Friends of mine and I were going to a prayer conference on top of a mountain. It had been raining all day, so that everything was wet and puddles of water were everywhere. As we walked up the mountain, my friend Kluntje challenged me to race, he is some 15 years older than I, but very quick, especially since he has such short legs. So as we started running he gained the lead quickly because of his quick acceleration, but the longer the mountain turned out to be, I started to catch up. Eventually I overtook him and was racing towards a sure victory. Just a few feet before the conference tent there was a huge puddle and I was wearing my good pants, so I hesitated for second and slowed down. This gave my friend the chance to overtake me in the last second because he raced strait through the giant puddle. I lost because I hesitated, being concerned with the things of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that I said to myself and God that I will never again stop for anyone or anything in this race. I will never again hesitate to lay down my life. If you want to really get to know me start running, for only while you run this race will you get to know me truly. Race with all that you have because I will, for I want to win!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it."&lt;br /&gt;- 1. Cor 9:24&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114223731240599369?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114223731240599369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114223731240599369' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114223731240599369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114223731240599369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/running.html' title='Running'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114221504858835612</id><published>2006-03-12T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-12T17:57:28.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Sabbath</title><content type='html'>Today was just another Sunday and as I had made it my habit and honest conviction, I refrained from any work that could possibly be done. All last and this semester I have been doing so. Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is why:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I woke up this morning, too late for church, but fully rested, a wonderful day began that I would not have had, if I had not set aside my Sabbaths for rest and for the Lord. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After realizing that I would have to rush to church to make it on time, I decided to stay back and instead spend some extensive time in the word and in prayer, which was wonderful. I love reading the Psalms. Then I took a long shower and went to lunch. Just as I was on my way to the Caf, it started to sprinkle outside and that meant that no one would be sitting outside. Wait nobody was not quite right, three of my favorite people in the world (Andrew, Melissa and Hayden) enjoyed the rain outside, while eating their lunch. So I asked how long they would be sitting there and if it was worth to join them, which it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having first the rain wet our faces and later the sun dry it off, was just so beautiful and in addition to that a deep and longlasting conversation began. A conversation about living alone in the wilderness for a year to seek after God and what the benefit of that would be. From there we began to talk about God speaking to us and the reality of spiritual gifts, we talked about martyrdom and the desire to live a life consumed by God. So for 4 hours we talked and talked and talked about the things of God and never got tired. We shared the things that God had been doing in our past and those he is doing at this very moment. It was just beautiful! What else can I say! And now I am going to eat dinner with a few guys talking more about the things of God on this totally usual Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you asking how this is a usual Sunday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if you set aside a day for the Lord and let the Sabbaths be for you, to benefit your soul, to bring you to rest and to draw you to Him, transforming you evermore into his likeness. This will become your every Sabbath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the words of our Lord:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Sabbath was made for man, not man for Sabbath." Mark 2:27 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be blessed my friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shalom alechem&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114221504858835612?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114221504858835612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114221504858835612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114221504858835612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114221504858835612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/just-sabbath.html' title='Just Sabbath'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23493239.post-114162764501174783</id><published>2006-03-05T22:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T22:47:25.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Take the World but give me You</title><content type='html'>Reflecting on this weekend and the days prior to it, there remains only one thought in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the world but give me You!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rather die this very moment than to be seperated from the One who saved my soul. May he strike me dead from Heaven this second, if I cannot be in my Father's arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this world is all there is and if the Christian life I see all around me is all there is, than why live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If Sin is permanent and there is no overcoming, why live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If friendships come and go, strengthen and weaken, but ultimately are like the passing of the wind, why live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the pleasures of this world are all that could be offered, why live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If the longings of my heart cannot be fulfilled, why live?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the world but give me You!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else can satisfy, nothing else can fuel me, nothing else I desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take the world but give me You!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Song running in my mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, thank you for the cross, &lt;br /&gt;For the blood you shed for me&lt;br /&gt;The crimson stain of all my sin&lt;br /&gt;Washed away in your great love!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23493239-114162764501174783?l=fathers-arms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/feeds/114162764501174783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23493239&amp;postID=114162764501174783' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114162764501174783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23493239/posts/default/114162764501174783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fathers-arms.blogspot.com/2006/03/take-world-but-give-me-you.html' title='Take the World but give me You'/><author><name>Peter Hering</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00385822986609835559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
