share'in

There is a culture often found in dough, that's been put there by someone who would like, a bigger, softer bread than it would be, without this yeast that gives a rising out. It seems that it could have another use. I'm thinking about storytelling and, although I could mean beer,(that would be true), It's not the one I'm thinking of right now. Well, it could be a metaphor. "What for?" I'm glad you've asked and I will keep it plain. Or, try to, but for me that's sometimes hard. I like to use ideas to help explain. And that is why I think that Jesus used, this picture of the yeast which would soon grow. It helped him to serve up the mind a feast. A clever way to ask the mind to know. This metaphor could then be used again. To symbolise another kind of growth. It's not that yeast is good, or bad, alone. It's more a case of that it could be both*. But, in the mind of One,( who is the Son, of God), it soon took on a greater

Upon the shore, there on the other side, there came a man out of the cemet'ry.. He'd been abandoned there, for he was wild. And, no one knew the child that he'd soon be. They'd used thick chains to keep him safely locked, but, ev'ry time, it wasn't quite enough. He'd break out, leaving broken chains behind, It's safe to say, he was out of his mind. He'd lived there 'mongst the hills, for many days. And, he would moan, and wail, and carry on, and cut himself with stones. In many ways, he was a broken man, "Here is the Son, of GOD!" He fell at Jesus's feet. He cried, "Don't hurt us, please, we beg. You are the great-, est, and is there something between us?" …."Come, get out of it," said Jesus, "and be-gone!" ...What is your name?" He asked then of the man. "There's many here, and Many is my name, a bunch of us, so please don't send us out, we want to stay here in

So, how on earth will God accept this man? And, what is there that I can do or say, To make God happy so that I can be, acceptable enough to stand up straight? Will I write endless songs to reach God's ears? Or, starve myself of food for fifty days? Will I learn all the Bible off by heart? Or, wear a t-shirt that says "Jesus Saves"? Well, he has shown me what is truly good. And what it is that he would ask of me. To always do what's fair, and right, and true. To love, what's loyal, when circumstances say I might, have ev'ry right to look the other way. To love, the choice of being kind, to someone else. And not, to get revenge for what's been said or done. It hurts, but in the end what have I truly won? Now look, there is another thing God wants from me. To humbly go about the day with him. To share in work and play and all I do. And not, To think I know exactly what I'm on, about, and know precisely what you mean. That'

I'd listened in, and heard what Jesus said.. ..was after he was walking with his blokes. They'd said, "..that's quite a building, check those stones, out! What a sturdy looking thing it is!" "No, don't expect this place you see to last. It's only temporary, has a date. The 'best before' will run out, in the end. I'll shake your hand and tell you, this is fate." He said, and when they asked him, 'cross from there, as they were sitting on an olive mount. "Please, tell us, so that us four now can hear, when will all of these things, then come about?" "Be careful!", so he said, "Now, listen in.. For, many will come who say they are me. These phoney ones who claim to know the way, I'm sure that if you look for them, you'll see. And, kingdoms, countries, nations, go to war, to fight in battles all around the place. And, famines carry on, over a score. It's only the beginning, just

A rest for growing into stillness here, a blessing, such a lucky man I am. A test for being able to be mere.., -ly sitting, walking, talking without fear. I hope for safety for my friend who is, away in other places I'm not in. I trust in God who cares for hers and hims, and every person's life that is within.

I hold my hand upon my heart and know, that it must be a blessing here to get, a satisfaction, hopefully I'll grow, into a kinder bloke that will not fret. I worry not for any food to eat, or how I'll come or go, I trust in God, but, often, words have torn me down to meat, and this came from a Christian's mouth. That's odd.. It shows me that the name that someone has, soon made up for themselves will never stick. There's talk of names that given, have a chance, to wake up beasts, or beauties from their sleep. God help me to be careful what I say. The words that I pass on from somewhere in, my heart will soon affect another's day, or year, or life, Lord help me to begin, to hearken up, to listen, and to know, with "fear and trembling" what Thou wouldst me say, in wisdom then to tension up this bow, and fire then those words, like Sun's bright rays.

On wings from fairies, float these wholesome thoughts, from blessed books, and bottles frozen from, the fridge that freezes quicker than it ought, I slowly wait, my mind must now be thawed. Ideas too often carried on in haste, though, "fast" ain't wrong, it's slowliness that has, a wholesomeness, it chews enough to taste. I hope that I can slow down to a pace, to hold with hands that carry kinder thoughts, which have been stilled, and can be trusted in. The head must be a precious place, for sure, I'll never treat it like a garbage bin.