Sunday, April 10, 2011

The Beauty and Majesty

Beautiful the majesty which is found in His love for me! Almighty is His surrendering of Himself on Calvary. What depth of human love can possible compare or match to His alone! What redemtion and glory do I deserve but because He loved me, He has called me as His own! Predestined was He to love me a sinner! Forever long does His arms outstretch! Tear filled eyes at knowing the grace that He has prepared for me! What endless love, just how can it be, that He with Love would acknowledge me. Ama- zing faithfullness, my only response is upon bended knee. I caannot wait till we sing the new song for Him in eternity. The virtorious anthem filled with the reality, that we shall forever and always be with Him. To worship the King of Kings! His beauty and majesty is found in a woodened cross! The blood poured down it's sturdy beam was for all of us. He had a love that defied the rules of death. He was thinking of us while taking His last breathe. His beauty and majesty is found in His death!

Friday, March 5, 2010

God Forbid at being Idol!!!!!!!!!!

I had a chance to witness to a guy the other day. He saw my shirt that said that it's message was illegal, he wanted to know why? He didn't know that Christians were being persecuted for not rejecting Christ. His thnking was he is just one person in this big world, what could he do? Talking to him challenged me, to no just sit in the pew at church, but to get active, to use the talents and abiliteis that I have for Christ, to reach others for Christ. Even if a person isn't gifted with remarkable talents but is just a kind and compassionate person, well, then God can use that even more than a person with a pretty face or voice!!!!! He dosen't want or call us to be idol, He calls us to change and make a difference in our world!! Doing little things still amounts to greatness in the eyes of our Heavenly Father!!!!!!!!!!!!! Make a Difference!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Crazy is the art of years gone by

Crazy is the art of years gone by, as they twist and change and hardly ever simplify. But God is above and past all the trials that snake up and down lifes rigid miles. Traped and confused, we lain asunder forgetting that God is the meander of the broken. We fail to grasp, we fail to clasp tightly to the arm of the one who can easily break the ceders of Lebonon like toothpicks beneath a giants digits. We're the captive that He yearns to set free, yet we, all too many times lie beneath sins deceitful blanket of comfort. But God, amung the stinch, stand briliant in splendor and then we, with faith in Him, remove the covering that held us dormant. (((JMF)))

Friday, August 7, 2009

"The Strongest Shoulders"


God's shoulders are strong to lean upon,
They are strong and can bear our weight!

We can ride on them and stay on them as
He leads us through deaths fearful gate.

With Him we should not fear for He holds
us near and safe fast are we in his hands.

They are the strongest shoulders ever known to man.
They carried a cross and carried our sin that He met
at a cost.

But, His love is what girds Him along it stirs and motivates
and leads us safely through deaths throng.

Shoulders that are strong, shoulders that were ripped,
shoulders that we can ride with pride. They'rethe
shoulders of my Jesus and in His cleft may Iabide!!


Monday, August 3, 2009

The Last Transport

The Last (10-24-07)


By (JMF)


This story began in a far off land long forgotten by time. It is far different to the world we now call home. It wasn’t different in the aspect that it had upside down trees or poke dotted elephants. It was different in how the people conducted themselves, they were a lot nicer then what you might find out on the streets today. A handshake would seal a deal or farmers were known to seal a deal by giving their fattest pig. The land was green with life. The land was called Piserion. It waved and rolled down the country side as the gentle, yet sometimes arduous, rain fell and nurtured the once war battered land. The land was in a time of healing. It had been fifty years now since the mysterious rider came in and conquered the leader of the Shiban forces. He fought and killed their leader and the land of Piserion won and made this mysterious person king over all the land. King Legant
guided the land into a time of peace, where no battles needed to be fought except the minor ones involving the freeing of smaller lands which added to their allies. King Legant married and had a full life and in his later years had a son and named him Pacquin. Pacquin never fully knew his father for King Legant died from old age leaving him without parents, for his mother had died shortly after his third birthday. Pacquin was then raised by a “stand in king” until Pacquin reached the rightful age and become King.
Until then, Pacquin just enjoyed being a kid and causing mischief. But how long would that last? That was the question.

(((Chapter 1)))


Once upon a Wednesday morning, the thirteen year old Prince Pacquin Legant had just finished his studies with his tutor, Mr. Warren Gundlebud and was now fighting sheer boredom. Pacquin didn’t like him because he looked really old, really fat, acted really old, & he even smelt like it. Mostly it was because he was just plain boring. He didn’t make the lessons exciting like his previous professor. He especially didn’t like it when Mr. Gundlebud fell asleep during class, when he would start to snore it is like he instantly became a pig wallowing its pin. Some times it was pretty funny to watch, very amusing, but today was definitely not that day. Pacquin was in one of his foul moods. He would get into to these every once in awhile. When this happened, the servants had learned how to steer clear. He would get very arrogant and act snobbish. He didn’t fully mistreat the servants when this happened; he just let them know their place.

So after class he meandered around the castle for a few hours trying to find a nook or cranny he hadn’t yet discovered. He couldn’t find any. Of course it was understandable, he had been searching the castle for quite some time now; ever since he was little and could sneak away. He let out a grunt as he thought, “there is absolutely nothing to do around here.” Then an idea popped into his brain, “I haven’t talked to the gardener for quite some time, I wander what he is up to?” At that thought he dashed off in a huff thinking of all the things that the gardener might show him.

As he was running he saw a room off to the far right that he hadn’t checked yet. He came to a complete halt. He looked both ways, he didn’t have to do it but he thought it would add a little mystic to what might be behind the door. He went through the creaking door & came into a room with a single vase sitting high on a stand that came up to his waist, it was empty besides that. Behind it on the wall, a picture frame with a picture of one of his dead ancestors that he couldn’t remember. He had so many ancestors & family history wasn’t one of his best subjects. The room was small but not as small as to where a larger person would feel claustrophobic. It was a round room with a round doorway. It was built with large stones. He had never seen this room before. He tried to remember if he had eve passed by this hall. He thought he would have remembered this room. The other rooms were just full of different artifacts and scrolls, stuff that after a short time of excitement, his enthusiasm dwindled. The biggest difference is the shape of the room; he would have recalled a round room. The room seems to have been built some time ago, and built for the sole purpose of the vase and the picture.

He looked at the vase for a bit, it was very detailed, the design was from a culture he didn’t recognize. Family history might not be his subject but he was pretty fare at cultures. It had red writing on the neck of the yellowish gold vase that was in a language that was not familiar. Why, it was not known on earth. Pacquin is also very keen on languages. He heard a noise at the back of the room; he turned and saw the end of a rat’s tail disappear behind a crack in the wall, but as he turned back around he bumped the
side of the stand where the vase sat. The stand was bumped with just enough force that it caused the vase to crash to the floor. He was about ready to high tail it out of there when he saw the light from the opening in the ceiling hit what looked like a piece of gold. He bent down & picked it up. It was a key that was attached to a chain. The key as well
as the vase had strange red writing on it, it was pure gold. This time he really heard someone coming so he put the chain around his neck & ran out the door & down the hall toward the garden.

He made it to the end of the lengthy hall when he heard the sound of heavy footfalls behind him. Then he heard the high pitched scream of Mrs. Wyncove, the head maid. It was evident that she had found the broken pottery & was a little peeved at the fact there was another of the Prince’s messes she would have to clean up after. She was still hot about last week’s incident when he “accidentally” placed a mouse down the back of the Duchess of Celeroyn’s new and rather expensive dress. She stood up screaming bloody murder, while she flung her arms around trying to get the rodent, who was more frightened then she was, away from her. During all of this commotion she had managed to collide into the cook who was bringing in the main course of the meal. It was a turkey
and it was the largest one they could find. As the perplexed cook & the terrified Duchess met, the Turkey went soaring into the air and found it’s destination on the top of the Duke of Celeroyn’s head. The impact of the landing knocked him out for a few moments. Needless to say, Pacquin wasn’t blamed at all, and no one saw him do it.
They just assumed that the castle had a vermin problem and acquired a few cats to
dispense of the menace. Mrs. Wyncove knew who it was, there was no other culprit with such a signature trade mark of destruction as Prince Pacquin.

He rounded the corner and disappeared out of view Mrs. Wyncove. He took a short
cut he had used on a number of occasions. He stopped and hid in the shadows until he thought it was safe to continue. When he reached the garden he saw that the roses had started to bud & the Kudzu was still infiltrating the rear part of the castle. Then something out of the corner of his eye caught his gaze. It was a small wooden box with gold writing on it, there was an inkling of familiarity with the way the writing looked, but he couldn’t place it. He saw the gardener, Mr. Ego Cutly come close with a shovel in hand; Pacquin knelt down behind an obtuse thorn bush so he wouldn’t be seen. Mr. Cutly took the box & went to one of the near by trees and looked around to see if anyone was there, he even looked Pacquin’s way, which sent a shiver up Pacquin’s back. The gardener began digging, and when he was through, he placed the box inside the hole and covered it back up with the remaining dirt. He made his way for the little shack he lived in that was on the south west part of the rear of the castle. If it wasn’t for the few glimpses of wood you would never know it was a home with all of the Kudzu that engulfed the shack.

Mr. Cutly preferred the shack above living in the castle because of the privacy he said he required He was a kind and average size man, with white, yellow stringy hair and a nose that would make a woodpecker turn green with envy. He was a tad hefty and walked with a limp that made Pacquin chuckle sometimes. Ever since Mr. Cutly’s wife died
a few years back he had pretty much stayed to himself until Pacquin came stumbling
into the scene, he really did stumble into the picture to.

Mr. Cutly was raking a pile of leaves one autumn day when Pacquin came stumbling out of the door with a trail of flour and behind him came the death curdling scream of the cook. Mr. Cutly grabbed the mischievous boy & hid him in the bulk of leaves and went back to work. Then came the cook to the door red faced, a trail of flour behind her and covered in it from head to toe. She yelled,

“You good for nothing brat, if I catch you in my kitchen again with another one of those insec, uh, creatures, or what ever you call them, Prince or not, I’ll will beat your back side until you can’t sit down for a week.”

She turned away still grumbling under her breath.

Since that day he hasn’t been able to get rid of that kid; not that he was complaining. He & his wife never had any children of there own. His wife was barren, he sort of claimed Pacquin as his own. He had just sat down with his evening tea to relax by the fire when he heard a thump at the door; he knew it was Pacquin because no one else visits him. He shouted,

“Come in before you break the door down with all that pounding your making.” Pacquin came in and made himself comfortable, like he owned the place. He knew that Cutly didn’t care.

“So Cut, whatcha been up to lately, any knew tricks You want to show me?” Pacquin said.

“Now hold on, I want to sit here in my comfy chair and drink some tea, my backs hurting me something terrible, and besides I haven’t seen you for a few months, we have a lot to catch up on don’t we.”

Mr. Cutly thought to himself of how soon it will be before he told this boy of his plans and the adventure he had for him. What Pacquin doesn’t know is that he saw the boy behind the thorn bush and how he had planned to burry the box to where the boy could see it. Yes indeed, it was only a matter of time before the boy’s curiosity gets the better of him, but time sometimes isn’t a good thing, and in this case Mr. Cutly was loosing a lot of it.

They talked for an hour about Pacquin’s studies and about the mischief he had been getting himself into. He told him about the turkey incident. Cutly poured him a another cup of tea and sat back in his chair and chuckled at it all.

“I never knew that one boy could get into so much trouble in such a short period of time,” Cutly said.

There were a lot of questions that Pacquin wanted to ask, he just didn’t know where to start. He was just about to ask his first question when Cutly said,

“I’ve got something here to show you, I brought it back from, uh, you know where, my market place.”

Cutly knew it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t say where it really came from; at least not yet It was amazing Pacquin thought how Cutly seemed to know when he would ask
a question and what it was about, it was almost ere. Cutly got up from his chair and
came to the wall where he opened a small door at the base of the wall. You would
never have seen the door unless you were looking for a door in that spot. He pulled
a brown nap sack that was faded with age, out of the hiding place and made his way back to the chair where he achingly sat down; his knee was bothering him again. He pulled out of the sack what seemed like a shield. It was covered in gold and had three circular rings and three jewels on the front of the shield.

“This is the shield of Lord Collegant, it was said that it was lost in battle along with him.
No one knew what happened to it until I found it in the, you know where.” He said while waving his hand.

“No one also realized that there was writing on it also, if you turn the three jewels
to the left, half a turn and turn them to the right two full turns and then hold it up to the light, then you will be able to see the writing.”

“I don’t see any writing, and something is supposed to really happen when you turn the jewels, I don’t know about this,“ said Pacquin skeptically.

Cutly started turning the jewels and at first there was nothing, but then the words started shimmering into focus. Pacquin held his breath, for he had never seen magic
such as this before. Cutly has never shown him this. Pacquin saw the red writing and instantly remembered the key and the vase; they both had the same writing. The writing was written in deep blood red. He wondered where this thing could have come from and what it says. The writing was very, very strange, “it surely couldn’t have come from another world, could it,” Pacquin thought.

There was a long pause because neither of them knew what to say. Until Pacquin said,

“Well then, what does it say.”

"The shield speaks of a war that took place in the world of Cyntheria, in the land of Raisel, when the evil Tasna waged a war against the Three Kings. Tasna was defeated but in revenge against the Three Kings, he and his servants the Mednos, took siege and has held hostage Cyntheria’s sister world Ceredagor for over six thousand years.”

As Cutly read, the red writing would move with it and stop when he would stop as if it was waiting patiently for him to continue.

“It then goes on to talk about a decree that Tasna issued. Tasna ordered that all seven pairs of the port rings be found and the wearer be killed He was afraid that the seven wielders of the rings would rise up and fuel a resistance against him.. All but one wielder was found and slain, and there bodies put on display to show what would happen if anybody would dare cross Tasna. The last wielder escaped and was never seen again, his name was Lord Collegant."

“Wow, that’s some story; that’s all written on that shield,” asked Pacquin

“It isn't over yet and yes all of it is written on this shield." said Cutly.

"Lord Collegant hid both of the rings in a far away place and created a map to find the two lost rings.”

“But what happened to the map?" begged Pacquin.

"It doesn’t say, all it says is to turn the jewels three full turns to the right and two to the left five half turns back to the right.”

A burst of light shot forth from the middle of the shield, from a distance you could see the lights erupting from the windows and gaps in the house. The light was nothing like Pacquin had ever seen before; it was so bright and white. All at once he felt fear and excitement. Features started presenting themselves in full clear, moving motion. The images were still a blur but as it went along it started clearing. It seemed like he was flying. He thought he had left the world and stepped into another if it weren’t for the few glimpses of the furniture he saw as he looked around the room. He saw a world come into sight and he was traveling ever so fast towards it, and he was afraid that he would crash into the ground, he didn't crash, but glided slowly to the ground and then with a hard thrust he was gliding and speeding across the fields, streams, and mountain side. He could hear birds and feel the wind rush past him as it blew through his hair. He saw something up ahead, until everything started to fade and blink out of focus until the light and the scenery of this, other world, was gone altogether.

He sat down with a thump, apparently he had been standing; the adrenaline was still coursing through him and he was trying to recover from what he had just experienced.

“That was, uh, what just happened?” asked Pacquin.

“That was a simulation, the first clue in finding the map. Lord Collegant must have used the power from the rings to write and create the virtual map.”

“Why did it stop?” asked Pacquin.

“Because it is getting late and the sun has already set, and I think that is enough for to day, we will pick up here some other time.”

“Awe, but please can we finish it and find out where the hidden map is,” pleaded Pacquin ever so earnestly.

“No, I think that is enough for right now, besides you’ll hear it from Miss. Abigail if your not washed and in bed real soon.” said Cutly in a stern but loving voice.

“All right, some other time,” moped Pacquin as he got up and walked out the door and shut it behind him.

Cutly watched as Pacquin shut the door behind him and walk the path that led back to the castle, and thought to himself, would this boy really be the one in which the portals of Ceredagor will be ripped open? He purposely didn’t read about the prophecy that was also on the shield because he felt Pacquin was still too young to understand it all, but when the time came he would tell him. Cutly finished the rest of his tea, blew out his candle, and went to bed, smiling and thinking.

When Pacquin shut the door he had a strange feeling, as he was walking home, that someone was watching him, like someone was lurking behind some tree. He stopped and looked around but could see nothing so he went on. It caused Pacquin to get bumps on his arm and then he smelled something. There was a stench that had flooded in all of a sudden, out of no where. He thought about it awhile, it was a recognizable smell. It was sulfur; it was usually attracted by a fire but he didn’t see one around. He shrugged it off as maybe manure from the horses and walked inside the castle and decided there was no need to be a girl about it all. The beady yellow eyes that had been staring at him from behind a tree, disappeared with a flash.

He thought as he walked to his room, he wondered if the story from the shield was true or just another one of Cutly’s tricks of magic. “No, it couldn’t possible be true,” he thought, “it had to be just a story, and that’s that.” He arrived at his room, changed and climbed in bed, but he still couldn’t get over all that had happened during the day. He then realized that he had forgotten to wash his face and decided it would be better to get back up and do it in place of hearing Miss. Abigail’s mouth. Through the night he tossed and turned moaning about something. He lunged forward with a fright with sweat soaking his sheets and muttered under his breath for fear of being heard, “Yellow eyes


“TO BE USED” (9-1-08)

Completely, Lord take me.
Use me beyond anything I know.
Change my lack of want into an
Overflowing spring of desire to
know and serve you more.

To be used of you would be the greatest, (chorus)
To be used of you would be a privelige.
I can’t believe you would choose me; but,
I guess, when you have not chosen the weak
to confound the wise.

There are people, who are hurting.
There are people, like I once was,
who need a light. Christ in us, is that

Oh, if we would only see, only see their need. (Bridge)
If we would only hear their cries in the darkness;
We could give a helping hand and build a bridge
That crosses the great divide.

Being used of you Lord is the greatest.
Having you work in my life is such a privilege.
I still can’t believe, that you would choose me; but,
I guess, when you have not chosen the weak
To confound the wise.

Lord, I am weak, but you are so strong.

Lord, I am poor, but you are so rich.

“Something Beautiful”

“Something Beautiful” (11-11-08)

There is a time for everything, and this is not it.
There is a time for shaping and molding the mess
in my life to be something beautiful. I can’t do it,
on my own. I need a Savior whose love can be shown.

(chorus) Something beautiful can start, Lord when you enter my life,
when you change this grime into sublime. There’s a peace that
you offer of your grace you did proffer. It’s what I need, it’s
what I crave, it is you. It is you.

Okay, now what? Where do I begin, Where do I go from here?
I know I just need to trust you, and take you at your word. I
know your always faithful to your word. Give me strength,
give me wisdom to follow your will.

(Chorus2) Something beautiful started, Lord when you entered my life,
when you changed this grime into sublime. There’s a peace
that you offer of your grace you did proffer. It’s what I needed,
it’s what I craved. It is you. It is you.

(bridge) Where life takes me I don’t know, but I
know your guiding hand will lead me
through it all. With your hand, you’ll lead me
and with your right hand, you’ll hold me.

(repeat chorus2 2xs)