love of God
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Take a few minutes of your quarantine—sit down with the Maker of the Universe—your Heavenly Father and Best Friend—and chat. You never know what might come of it. Here’s the Biggest little prayer of all time—it’s model for all prayers, yet it stands alone in what God loves and wants to hear from each of
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Take a few minutes of your quarantine—sit down with the Maker of the Universe—your Heavenly Father and Best Friend—and chat. You never know what might come of it. Here is St. Patrick’s ‘Prayer of the Day’. Albeit a few weeks late, God is always listening. Let’s pray… I arise today Through the strength of Heaven
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“As the rain hides the stars, as the autumn mist hides the hills, happenings of my lot hide the shining of Thy face from me. Yet, if I may hold Thy hand in the darkness, it is enough; since I know that, though I may stumble in my going, Thou dost not fall.” —Alistair Maclean Walking in faith—not always fun, but always mighty. Always. —j
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Another of my favorite poems that speaks for itself. Oh, wait a minute… WAIT Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied. I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate, And the Master so gently said, “Child, you must wait”. “Wait? You say, wait!” my indignant reply. “Lord, I need
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“You asked for a loving God: you have one. The great spirit you so lightly invoked…is present: not a senile benevolence that drowsily wishes you to be happy in your own way, not the cold philanthropy of a conscientious magistrate, nor the care of a host who feels responsible for the comfort of his guests,
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It’s been a rough year for many, and as Thanksgiving arrives there are empty chairs at the feast and many bruised hearts that find it hard to sing. But God… “If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart.” —Senior Chaplain John Akers God is
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Hyperbole? Sure. Poetry? Of course. Understated? Infinitely. Could we with ink the oceans fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade, To write the love of God above Would drain the oceans dry; Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though

