Mocking Jesus as a National Sport

After a lunch conversation today it became aware to my lunch companion and myself just how often we find ourselves mocking Jesus. Then I read an article on “Mocking Jesus is the New National Sport.” The author writes; “I pray that this will be a wake-up call for all Believers today. A wake-up call that we have got to get back into the marketplace where we live each day and boldly, without shame or compromise proclaim our faith in Christ. If this doesn’t motivate you, nothing will. For too long, we have been intimidated into keeping our mouths shut while those who live in rebellion to God speak loud and bold without fear or conscience to promote their ungodly lives and choices. ”
mock by defination: 1. To treat with ridicule or contempt; deride.
2. a. To mimic, as in sport or derision. See Synonyms at ridicule.
b. To imitate; counterfeit.
3. To frustrate the hopes of; disappoint.
To express scorn or ridicule; jeer: They mocked at the idea.
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Christmas Favorites

The poinsettia is one of our favorite plants at Christmas. Though we may often think of a red one, today breeders have developed many colors and varieties. Colors range from pinks to multi-colors to purples and burgundy with names such as Monet, Ruby Frost, Ice Crystal, Strawberries and Cream, etc. They have even developed one with variegated foliage called Tapestry.

With proper water (not over or under, just evenly moist), bright light and temperatures in the 60-75 degree range, poinsettias can grow happily and give you months of enjoyment. You can even get them to bloom next year if you follow some re-bloom guidelines.

Img 3155click to enlarge

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Telling our Faith Story;

*Dr. Elizabeth L. Windsor writes; “As we move into the… holiday seasons of Advent, Christmas and New Year’s celebrations, many of us will be attending gatherings of friends and family. This season of being together offers many opportunities for us to share our spiritual stories and to hear (and help) others tell theirs.”

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Thanksgiving Day

On this Thanksgiving Day I pray: Father God, thank you for life. This ‘musical composition’ of my life that you have prepared and composed for me, with me in mind from the genesis of time, before the worlds were created. You orchestrated and plotted out the lines and the spaces, the sharps, the flats and the accidental and the clef signs of my life. You wrote your melody upon what would be turned from a heart of stone into a soft and malleable heart….that inescapable love song that no other composer can write; this symphony, this concerto where sometimes I am the solo instrument and in other measures I am accompanied by a host of other players musicians, and must play in tune with them.
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