From the cobwebs: Authority (a mini-article from 2009 or so)

Authority

There is a man from a website of which I am a member. He started a message

board war regarding biblical authority. He feels that a certain activity is acceptable

behavior in the sight of God and many others disagree with him and have written

responses to his posts trying to show him scriptures which prove their point.

He finally got to the point where he was tired of hearing the phrase "it is not

authorized in the Bible" so he began a new thread about the word "authorized".

What follows is his original post and then my response to it.

He says on 5/12/07 at 6:50 p.m.: "I hear people using the word Authorized on

the site alot and no where do I see it found in the new testament in alot of

different versions and specially not the way alot use it."
I said:
The idea of AUTHORITY is replete in the Bible. It has been this way since the

beginning of time. After all, God spoke the very world into existence. That is

the ultimate authority! Early on, it is clearly illustrated (Deut. 11: 26-28) that

God's word is something which we ought to follow AND that there are

consequences if we do not follow it. That is authority. Later on, authority is

shown to belong to Christ (Matthew 17:5; 28:18-20.) As I said, authority is

EVERYWHERE in the Bible.

Every Christian understands the concept of authority. If they don't understand it,

they would never have obeyed the Gospel. Why would anyone ever bother to

be baptized and make efforts to be obedient if he didn't believe in an Authority

who says that, without obedience, spiritual death is assured? You cannot continue

in Christianity without a commitment to submitting to the authority of God and

His word (the Bible.)

Here is my main point. You are allowed to believe (because of free will) whatever

you want about the acceptability of using musical instruments in worship,

whether you are right or wrong. However, you should know (before you try to

use this argument anymore) that the word authority is a NOUN and the word

authorized is an ADJECTIVE. But they are basically the SAME word. Therefore,

you will not be able to support (logically, anyway) your theology with the

argument that the word "authorized" is not present in the King James version of

the Bible. It may be true that the word is not physically printed in the pages of

your Bible, however, the concept of "authorized" is painted on every single page

of the 66 books of the Bible...and with bright colors that anyone can recognize.

Just some food for thought, y'all.

From the Cobowe

 patting myself on the back a bit...

I know this will seem like bragging to some, but I was so pleased and gratified

with the comments that my acting professor wrote on my final that I really want

to share them. (and keep them someplace that I can remember them in the

future.) :)

Loralee,
-Both monologues were outstanding!
-Your work is some of the best I've ever seen.
-I HOPE you will continue as an actress--in some way--either professional

or amateur--because you have that raw talent necessary.
Anyway, you have been a tremendous JOY in class!

Final: 100

From the Cobwebs: J. Andrew Hobdy

This came up on my facebook memories today.

I am packing up to take my stuff to storage until the duplex opens up on

01JUN09. and I was looking for some photos to scan to make Mom a

present and I found this album with stuff from my one and only fiancee

from way back in '96-'97. I found a poem he wrote me which was just

so super good I had to share it. :)

For Loralee

J. Andrew Hobdy

She dances upon my eyelids
as I close them for slumber.
I can feel her beside me
like a phantom itch.
Her voice lingering on my ear
as the echo of a tympani in an empty room
As a yell on the barren plain.
Her love is the spring
renewing all life,
bringing rain to my dry and thirsty soul.
peace
She is the lighthouse amid the tempest
filling the black void with a brilliant light
her love is as constant as the tide
often low and ebbing
lying in wait
but sometimes raging.
I long for that rage.

Shigoto ganai

 I read a book once by a Western man. I cannot remember his name or the title of his book. However, he was discussing his time working in a big name company in Japan.  During the course of the book, he talked about the phrase 'Shikata ga nai' which means "It couldn't be helped."  This was the only thing I really remembered about the book.  Subsequently, I was in college and met--through my friend, Collin McCormick, a Japanese student.  We were talking about the Japanese language and I was repeating phrases I knew like "Domo arigato" and "Dōitashimashite" which mean, "Thank you" and "You're welcome." My mother, Pattalee, taught me 'You're welcome" many years ago. I remembered it cos she said, "It sounds like 'Don't touch the mustard.' LOL.

Anyway, back to my Japanese friend, I was trying to repeat the phrase for "It couldn't be helped" when my friend burst out laughing. He told me what I had just said in Japanese. I had interposed some letters and instead of a 'K' and an "A" I had said "Shigoto ganai" which means "I do not have a job." LOL

Anyway, I told you all of that for a reason, really. I've been watching Korean films on Prime (cos I have a free month). This particular series is telling a story about a Korean actress starring in a Japanese film. I have to watch them with the subtitles on, but sometimes, I'm distracted and am not watching carefully. But, the COOLEST thing! I heard a character say "Doitashimashite" and UNDERSTOOD it. That is happening more and more when I'm hearing Mandarin in shows and--now--in Korean, too. It is gratifying to know that my studying (however slowly it is happening) is paying off. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, I'll be understanding spoken Korean when I'm hearing it after I move to Korea (again hopefully) in August!

From the Cobwebs: Superman # 1

 I was home on leave from Luke Air Force Base at Christmastime sometime in the early 90's. Vicky and Douglas were still living at home, and--surprisingly--Lana was home, too. Getting all four of us home at the same time was always a challenge. Perhaps, it was that we were all home that made Daddy so sentimental; but, I remember a conversation we all had sitting in that living room at 422.

Smiling that smile he has when he is happy, Daddy told us that we were each his favorite child. I remember wondering how in the world that was possible when he explained with four stories. I don't really remember anyone else's story. Those of you who are old enough will remember a handy device called a play-pen. A mother could place her child in it, along with several toys and a sippy cup, and the child would play by himself for quite some time. Daddy and Mother had one of those for me when I was still in diapers. It was obviously a usual thing for me to spend the later part of my afternoon in that gizmo because Daddy's favorite moment for me involved it. When he walked in the front door of base housing, he would shout a greeting at us. According to him, every day--when I heard his voice--I would crane my neck back in order to see him. To me, his voice came from somewhere way up high, as if my daddy was 12 feet tall-- bigger and better and cooler and funnier and more wonderful than any other man alive. This poem comes from that memory.

Superman # 1

No matter how old

I get, you'll always be as

tall as the ceiling.

 While recovering from cervical spine surgery, I tried to branch out a bit. I read A LOT—everything from The Reagan Diaries to The Case For Christ to Lloyd Alexander’s series The Book of Three. I learned to like a few new bands and songs. I even took a painting class with my Aunt Gail.

During that class, I re-learned some of the basics of painting and learned some new things, also. I learned how to mix my own colors and about the different kinds of brushes and what can be created using each different one. I learned how to make “reflections” on water and even how to erase my mistakes—if I catch them soon enough!
On my last day of class, my teacher, Joyce, was showing me how to put the finishing touches on my painting. My job was to paint a few pieces of “uniquely hued” grass right around the front of the trees. Since she didn’t think I needed very many of these fuchsia and orange grasses, she was reluctant to allow me to add those colors to my palette. This was because most people—when squeezing paint out of the tube onto the palette—use too much and waste the paint.
To solve this problem, Joyce brought me one of those small plastic containers filled with the leftover paint from previous weeks. She showed me how to take the tiny, pointy brush (Okay—so I didn’t learn all the names of the brushes), dip into water to thin out the paint, and then paint the grasses.
So, here I was dipping my brush into this small plastic container filled with paint. As I dipped I thought, “Well, I never thought I’d be using this contraption as a palette. Just goes to show ya that almost anything can be used to be creative. You just can’t count anything out, can ya?”
Immediately, I stilled. You know, the way they do in the movies when someone has an epiphany. I thought again, “It’s kinda like Christianity, yeah? You just can’t count anyone out.” Christians come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. People—who aren’t anything like what we think Christians are or ought to be—can become Christians. They can be affected by the Gospel and then be molded and shaped by God’s Word.
It is easy to behave like the people described in James 2: 1-3. We decide—based on someone’s dress or words or actions—that they wouldn’t be interested in learning about God’s love. And really, who are we to judge? When Jesse presented Eliab as a possible future king of Israel, God Himself said, “Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (II Samuel 16: 7)
Just a few verses later (vss. 11-13), David, the youngest of Jesse’s boys was picked over all his elder brothers. This was just the beginning of David’s usefulness to God. By the end of his life, God described David as a man after his own heart.
In Bible times, women weren’t really looked upon as equal citizens in ability or worth. Nevertheless, the Bible is rife with examples of women who helped make the church stronger. Dorcas, for example, was well-known for her godly works. (Acts 9:36, 39) She spent her days making clothes for those who were needy and being kind and good. Lydia, a businesswoman in the city of Thyatira, upon learning of God’s love, obeyed His commands and immediately began working at encouraging brethren and strengthening the Kingdom. (Acts 9 and 16: 14, 15, 40)
In II Timothy 1:5, Paul gave kudos to Lois and Eunice, the mother and grandmother of Timothy for their work in making Timothy the man he was—Paul’s right hand man. Mary Magdalene began her spiritual journey as a demon-filled woman. After they were expelled, she began contributing monetarily to the work of God. (Luke 8:2) Mary, was one of the few standing at the Cross as Christ died (John 19: 25) and was the one of Christ’s followers who discovered his empty tomb on the third day. (John 20: 1-2) Despite her dubious origins, Mary was clearly part of that special group of people with whom Christ spent His last days.
Peter, along with his brother, Andrew, was merely a fisherman working in a family owned business when he met Christ. However, He helped them to become “fishers of men” (Mk. 1:16-18) and—on the day of Pentecost—thousands of souls were added to the Kingdom because of his efforts. (Acts 2:41, 42, 47)
If we are looking through the feeble and cloudy eyes of man, it is so easy to mis-read people and their intentions and their attitudes. My sister and brother-in-law, at their first meeting with me, saw—instead of an immoral, alcoholic fornicator—a soul who needed God’s love and forgiveness. I thank God GREATLY for their clear and loving eyes. I hope we’ll all make diligent efforts to see people through the eyes of God. Just some food for thought. Love y’all.

From the Cobwebs: The Promise

 

This poem was written by Mother in 1971 as she watched a two-year-old Loralee sleep. It reads, in part, like a conversation or prayer to God regarding her hopes and fears of the role she played as a mother. Through the years, I have harbored in my heart some questions as to whether or not she really wanted or loved me due to some of the behavior she exibited toward me, especially in comparison to my siblings. This little part of me really appreciates reading this poem, years later, and knowing, for certain, that at one time, my welfare, my spiritual path, and the kind of person I would become mattered to her. It is a really lovely poem.

The Promise

I watched my baby's face tonight
as she lay curled in sleep,
and wondered how, on God's great earth
the promise I could keep.

To guide her and to show her...
Not to do just the things I said,
But ready her to attempt the things
Just right for her, instead.

To help her learn to know herself
and be proud of what she knew...
and maybe...just a little,
She'd be proud of Mommy, too.

Can I teach her what it means to be
A mother and a wife?
Yet never let her see the tears
at the sound of a distant fife?

Can I let her have her heartaches
And learn with them, as I did?
Can I remember, while she's learning,
That I, too, was once a kid?

Can I teach her how to clean a house
When my example isn't great?
Can I teach her to be on time
If I am almost always late?

Can I teach her all the things
That my Mom taught to me?
Can I, in teaching them to her,
Somehow become a better me?

God, help me keep the promise
Given at her birth,
To guide the child you've loaned me
and make hers a better earth.

Pattalee Glass-Ford-November 9, 1971

-- An end note: Whilst typing this poem onto a Myspace blog, I noticed the date on which she wrote this poem. It just brings chills to my heart. Some of you know that just a few years after Mother wrote this poem pleading with God that she would be able bring me up in the right way and make sure she would do right by the God who gave me to her...she left God and the church behind her. But somehow, strangely, this prayer she prayed in poem form came to fruition because twenty years after she wrote the above poem, on November 9, 1991, I was baptized into Christ and became a part of God's church. Exactly 20 years later, to the day.