"The Joshua Tree" a Desert Parable - Near the Desert Gate

Written and published by Jean-Louis Mondon 

Note from the author: 
Now you can listen to the MP3 audio-file by clicking HERE

To go back to the previous chapter click: Here

 

Chapter One
Near the Desert Gate

May you be blessed by the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. 16The highest heavens belong to the LORD, but the earth He has given to mankind. Psalm 115:16

As it is written: “He has scattered abroad His gifts to the poor; His righteousness endures forever.” 10Now He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your store of seed and will increase the harvest of your righteousness. 11You will be enriched in every way to be generous on every occasion, so that through us your giving will produce thanksgiving to God. 2 Corinthiens 9:10
 

Some years have gone by. Still wearing his self-imposed blindfold, our lonely pilgrim, in spite of his condition, has traveled quite a distance to a remote and desolate place where even with the best eye-sight, experienced men have some difficulty finding their way. But now, he is not only blind and ignorant, but hungry, thirsty and exhausted. His only desire is to find a place of rest, an oasis that his weary soul has dreamed of and longed for, ever since his journey began. However, he despairs of finding such a place because, as he looks at himself and his surroundings, that haven seems to recede further in the hopelessness of his situation.

Thinking that the end was near, he had just resigned himself to accept his fate. After all, what could he do? Years ago, during the turbulent years of his adolescence and his early manhood enough vigor and idealism filled his heart to fight against real or perceived enemies. Little did he realize that the causes that he so wholeheartedly embraced were only detours in his life. Neither did he know that the weapons he used in the battle, securing short-lived victories, would eventually be the very means of his defeat. Now years later, all his resources spent, the overwhelming dread of an impending doom coursed through his weary body and soul.

He remembered the time when dreams and aspirations seemed so reachable. With concentrated effort, coupled with the unswerving tenacity that had been characteristic since his childhood, he had managed to accomplish a few challenging things in spite of disappointed scoffers, and other critical individuals that make it their business to see that nobody rise above the level of mediocrity that they have established as a standard for themselves. He didn’t quite yet understand the outworking of his life. Nevertheless a sense of destiny kept him going in spite of past failures that slowed him down and had forced him to change course many times on his uncharted journey.

But this time, it was different. The surrounding landscape was so unfamiliar and his weary mind could not draw enough inner strength from one of the reassuring pictures that his fertile imagination would produce in time of crisis. No enemy in sight to slash with a quick turn of his sharp tongue, one of his favorite weapons to cut down to size any who threatened to make him look smaller than he already felt. Nothing to grasp, no helping hand, no end in sight, no sight to see but a sea of sand, solid waves of shifting shadows blown by a merciless wind. Looking back, he discovered that his tracks had been erased. No chance of ever going back.

A hazy grey cloud inside his head overwhelmed the pure azure sky overhead and in spite of the strongest efforts of his will, he could not break through out of it. Until now, will power had been his best ally, the means by which he accomplished almost anything, whether it was the most menial tasks or fulfilling the deep desires and dreams of his life.

Nevertheless, everything was now so totally new and different. The unexpected had taken on the form of the impossible. A slow giggle emerged from his cynic side as he remembered the old adage "where there is a will, there is a way”. In his present situation, the reverse would apply, “where there is no way, there is no will”.

For a moment he mused with a bit of his personal philosophy: "people should not throw empty words into the air or on pages of books where they are going to travel through the ages, carried by airwaves or copied endlessly by scrupulous scribes and maybe deceive countless generations raised on clichés and slogans spouted by unscrupulous demagogues. Even if one stumbles upon a truth worthy of being shared and embraced, it is too late to enlighten those who have gone before. There are also situations and attitudes that prevent the truth from being known and proclaimed on a large scale".

Such was his predicament. “How silly of me, he thought. Here I am thinking of a way to warn and save others from the tyrannical oppression of the mind and I can’t even save myself."

Going back to his anti-cliché, it dawned on him that perhaps, it is true; where there is no way, there is no will or at least no will that will provide a tiny hope for a way. Could it be that the conditions which lead to the deepest despair are designed to force us to abandon any hope that we might place in our human resources, whether individual or collective? It seems that is only when all the doors have been slammed shut in our face that we realize that the One who slammed them shut is the same One who can open the door specifically stamped with our name.

By this I mean that man basically is a poor chooser. He imagines that out of all the tempting opportunities presented to him, he is capable of selecting by and for himself the ones most suitable to him. All the while, there is a door with his name on it, but he cannot find it, so focused that he is on the other doors. The question is and remains: How does a man abrogate his will?"

Oddly enough, deciding to give up one’s own will is in itself an exercise of the will. Actually, it is more the recognizing of one’s proper place in the eternal scheme of things. I think there is a good reason why Adam and Eve were placed on earth in the garden of Eden and not on one of the stars. God is in His heaven and Man on planet earth which is his proper domain.

There is something to be said and certainly to be emulated about the humbleness of the old farmer or gardener bowing his tired frame down to the earth to plant the seed after preparing its womb to bring it to germinate into new life. His bowing down is the best expression of worship, of total dependence upon the One who provided the seed, the nutrients in the earth, the rain water and the sunshine to make the seed grow. The One who provided the intelligence to develop the skills to create the farming implements and the methods. The Creator of the spirits and hearts of all mankind created the first Man to be an earth dweller and a farmer, not an astronaut".

While pondering on his helplessness and the present failure of his predilection for escaping reality, a salient idea emerged from the forefront of his consciousness. He needed a point of focus to gather his ever fleeting thoughts as a pinpointed laser ray to reach its target.

He picked up a handful of hot sand. Making a fist and placing it on top of his other hand also formed as a fist, he slowly and deliberately let the sand pass through this improvised funnel in the shape of an hourglass and let the grains escape through the lower fist instead of gathering them as a real hourglass would. The sand cascaded in a continuous stream onto a growing mound on the desert floor.

“Tempus fugit”(time flies), he ironically thought to himself as he tirelessly placed one hand on top of the other in an endless circular motion. This simple concentration exercise turned into a Sisyphean (siss-SIF-eean) task but provided a physical, reassuring point of contact against the vastness of the desert, the limitless amount of sand and the inevitability of the passing of time. 

"Well, he said to himself, finding the courage to cling to a positive thought as a life buoy in the middle of this vast ocean of sand extending as far as the eye could see, everything begins with a zero, then comes one...from zero to one the distance is very short and if I continue counting every time I take a step, at least I will be making progress."

Believe me, in the desert, things get reduced to the simplicity of zeros and ones equations out of sheer necessity. What lies between zero and one is a little like asking what came before God. Who wants to be number zero? Men usually want to be number One, women hope that men will tell them they are a 10. Even on a pain scale, I don't think that there exits a zero, I have never seen anyone without pain, visible or hidden.
The choice is clear. I said choice, not answer.

On this hopeful note, the story continues with a surprise new chapter.

To continue to the next chapter click: Here
http://thelightseed.blogspot.com.br/2011/07/joshua-tree-desert-parable.html
Jean-Louis.

O Suspiro e a Resposta Divina

"The Scream" por Edvard Munch

Salmo 119: 130, 131: “A explicação das tuas palavras ilumina e dá discernimento aos inexperientes. Abro a boca e SUSPIRO, ansiando por teus mandamentos”.

O suspiro não é a prerogativa somente dos namorados apáticos na esperança de se rever o a expressão de desencorajamento dum estudante enfrentando um dever de casa alem de sua habilidade intelectual. Na verdade. é tão inerente ao homem quanto o riso.
Todos os suspiros não tem o mesmo valor o sentido. Existem suspiros que se perdem na imensidade dum universo cruel, sem compaixão que resultam em desespero e morte, por falta duma resposta salvadora. Tal é a condição do ser humano sem Deus. Será que se pode achar respostas válidas ao misterio da vida sem fazer perguntas pertinentes? Na minha geração, o nihismo de Nietsche, o teatro do absurdo de Eugène Ionesco, as expressões artísticas como o retrato “O Grito”de Edvard Münch, a literatura e a vida dos grandes philósofos existencialistas como Sartre o Camus eram ao mesmo tempo guias e os fieis espelhos da alienação, do desespero e da perplexidade, experiencias de nossa vida moderna. Eles propuseram nenhuma solução frente à complexidade dos problemas cada vez mais intransponíveis. A influencia das suas filosofias e das ideologias modernas ilusórias resultantes só produziram uma fruta amarga envenenando a existencia da humanidade sempre mais perta do seu último suspiro.

No entanto, existe um outro suspiro que vem do mais profundo do ser humano. Em Eclesiastes 3:11, o Mestre mais sabio afirma que: “Ele (Deus ) fez tudo apropriado as seu tempo. Também pôs no coração do homem o anseio pela eternidade, mesmo assim ele não consigue compreender inteiramente o que Deus fez”. (A versão francesa diz o que Deus fez do inicio ao fim).

Eu acho que o suspiro expressa da melhor forma esta necessidade absolumente essencial do ser humano sufrindo do afastamento com seu Deus em busca do seu criador que é a única pessoa que pode satisfeitar este desejo.

O Senhor Deus é o Pai (Criador) de todos os espíritos humanos e ele quer guiar-nos por sua palavra, pelo som da sua voz no caminho de volta à nossa moradia eterna.

Números 27:15: “Que o Senhor, o Deus que a todos dá vida (Criador de todos os espíritos humanos), designe um homem como lider desta comunidade para entar e sair em frente deles (parafrase da versão Nova Versão International em Inglês) para que a comunidade não seja como ovelhas sem pastor”.

Quem quizer sair, e conhecer a liberdade, deve em primeiro lugar achar a porta que dá à vida eterna, à nosso destino. Quem é este homem, este guia, onde está a porta para entrar e sair, como alcanzar a ela? Tantas perguntas, tantos suspiros.

E será que você, esta fazendo as mesmas perguntas? Você conhecem os mesmos suspiros? Serão plenamente satisfeitos só com uma resposta que poderia encher o vazio que existe no mais profundo do seu coração. Deus já conhece todas seus pensamentos ainda antes que você pudesse os pensar. Na verdade é ele que o/a busca. Ele espera que você suspire sinceramente e reconhece que o vazio que este suspiro produz é realmente a necessidade sua de encher este vazio com seu amor, sua paz e sua vida.

Jesus o/a convida: "Venham a mim, todos os que estão cansados e sobrecaregados, e eu lhes darei descanso". Mateus 11:28.

Meus leitores e amigos, este post é o inicio duma estória/parábola titulada “A Árvore de Josué” Uma Parábola do Deserto” em varios episodios.
Então vamos nos encontrar de novo.
Até mais.

Jean-Louis.

War and its Cost from a Human Perspective

Five Star General, Supreme Allied Commander during World War II and President of the United States, Dwight D. Eisenhower, pointedly illustrated the ruinous consequences
of money funneled into the military rather than directed to society as a whole:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.
This world in arms is not spending money alone.It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. The cost of one modern heavy bomber is this:

• a modern brick school in more than 30 cities.
• It is two electric power plants, each serving a town of 60,000 population.
• It is two fine, fully equipped hospitals.
• It is some 50 miles of concrete highway.

We pay for a single fighter with a half million bushels of wheat.
We pay for a single destroyer with new homes that could have housed more than 8,000 people.
This, I repeat, is the best way of life to be found on the road the world has been taking.
This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense.Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.” (16 April 1953)

Le Lion et l'Agnelle

C’est ce que j’aime en toi, ce qui m’attire …

Pouvoir te comprendre sans essayer d’analyser,

Quel privilège de contempler ta simplicité virginale

De simplement recevoir ce que tu m’offres

À ta manière toute originale,

Si gentiment, et courageusement,

Si tendrement et si généreusement

La porte,  tu l'as entrouverte

En réponse à un aveu

À peine chuchoté dans l’intimité

D’un boudoir de trafic virtuel,

D’une alcôve sans cloisons

Les murs n’ont pas d’oreilles

Dans le royaume du sommeil

Des rêves lucides empruntant leur essor

Des ailes caressantes de tes paroles

Réveillant tendrement ce cœur mort

D’avoir battu, trop vite, trop longtemps

Pour de mauvaises raisons.

La raison est souvent trompeuse

Elle se laisse emprisonner

Par les idées de vendeurs d’esclaves

Au meilleur acheteur

Mais l’amour pur et vrai

A seulement ses saisons,

Et nul besoin de se rendre,

De s’acheter ou de se vendre.

C’est lui seul qui rend la liberté

Qui ouvre toutes grandes les portes

De la servitude d’un peuple opprimé,

Fatigué du joug qu’ils ont eux-mêmes forgés,

Tendant leur cou fragile en abaissant le regard

Sous l’arrogance du maître de leur choix

Élu par peur de lever leurs yeux jusqu’au ciel

Pour accueillir humblement le message

Depuis longtemps proclamé.

Source éternelle d’unique vérité

Seul remède à la mourante humanité.

Toi, ma sœur, mon amie de toujours

Et mon amour renaissant en concert

Avec l’aube de chaque jour,

Tu l’as vue, cette chère liberté

Tu l’as goutée, elle guide ta vie,

Elle a rempli de mesure sage

L’infini qui nous est promis

Dans un avenir si présent

Dans ta belle âme sans frontières

Découverte et arpentée seulement

À la lumière des pas précédents

Sans besoin d’un regard furtif

Sur le chemin déjà parcouru

Dans le domaine des ombres

Nul besoin de se dérober

Quand le cœur pur est mis à nu

Sous le regard protecteur

De ton égal en réflexion

Sur la surface miroitante

De ta profondeur inaccessible

Aux navigateurs zélés étalant

Leur convoitise dans le creux

De leur marée basse où s’accumule

Un flux incessant d’écume inutile

Seuls les êtres équilibrés

Peuvent se permettre

De parcourir à leur gré

Le domaine des superlatifs

Sans pour cela admettre

La faiblesse de paraître extrêmes

Aux yeux des aveugles

Et de tomber dans le piège si tentant

D’une insipide médiocrité

Tout cela tu me l’as enseigné

Avec ta douceur, ta patience

Face à mon érudite ignorance

Tu as calmé ma fougue

Et mes élans passionnés

Ce lion que je crois être

Tu l’as dompté et lui donne à manger

Dans le creux de ta main entraînée

A bénir et à nourrir, toi enfant fidèle

De l’agneau de Dieu immolé

Toi, ma douce et gentille agnelle,

Bénis soient le reste de tes jours

Dans la paix, l’amour et la joie

Que Dieu dans sa grâce t’accordera.

Jean-Louis.

Mon Croissant de Lune

A Mírian

Tu es

le croissant de lune

Illuminant de paillettes dorées

Mes nuits blanches passées

À arpenter les dunes

De sable

Infranchissables

Jusqu’au courant libérateur

Menant au bas de l’équateur

Tu es

le parfum exquis,

Ma fleurs aux mille pétales

Que la brise fraîche de tes yeux

Exhale en paroles caressantes

Me guide hors du dédale,  

Et chasse la brume étouffante

De l’implacable et cruel oubli,

Tu es

 le miroir limpide

Qui se meut constamment

Dans la clarté lucide

De mon enchantement.

Jean-Louis.

A Rebelião das Massas. José Ortega y Gasset

(Interesante ponto de vista)
Se você concorda, compartilha
Senão,  compartilha também
Se não compartilha, você perde a chance de expressar sua voz, e como não represento o governo, não posso saber seus pensamentos. Jean-Louis. 

Extraido de Prólogo para Franceses

Sobre o direito.
(Achei muito interesante saber o que pensava um dos mais ilustres Filósofos europeos sobre o tema de direito cual nossa época é muito usado como se fosse nossa propriedade exclusiva sem nem compreender seu sentido próprio). The Blogger.

É de somenos importância que a esse espaço histórico comum, onde todos os povos do Ocidente se sentiam como em sua casa, corresponda um espaço físico que a geografia denomina Europa. O espaço histórico a que aludo mede-se pelo raio de efetiva e prolongada convivência - é um espaço social. Ora, convivência e sociedade são termos equivalentes. Sociedade é o que se produz automaticamente pelo simples fato da convivência. De sua essência e inelutavelmente esta segrega costumes, usos, línguas, direito, poder público. Um dos mais graves erros do pensamento "moderno", cujas salpicaduras ainda padecemos, tem sido confundir a sociedade com a associação, que é, aproximadamente, o contrário daquela. Uma sociedade não se constitui do acordo das vontades. Ao contrário, todo acordo de vontades pressupõe a existência de uma sociedade, de pessoas que convivem, e o acordo não pode consistir senão em precisar uma ou outra forma dessa convivência, dessa sociedade preexistente. A idéia da sociedade como reunião contratual, portanto jurídica, é o mais insensato ensaio que se fez de pôr o carro adiante dos bois. Porque o direito, a realidade "direito" - não as idéias sobre ele do filósofo, jurista ou demagogo - é, se me permitem a expressão barroca, secreção espontânea da sociedade e não pode ser outra coisa. Querer que o direito reja as relações entre seres que previamente não vivem em efetiva sociedade, parece-me - perdoe-se-me a insolência - ter uma idéia muito confusa do que é o direito. 

Não deve estranhar, por outra parte, a preponderância dessa opinião confusa e ridícula sobre o direito, porque uma das máximas desditas do tempo é que, ao toparem os povos do Ocidente com os terríveis conflitos públicos do presente, se encontraram aparelhados com instrumental arcaico e ineficiente de noções sobre o que é sociedade, coletividade, indivíduo, usos, lei, justiça, revolução, etc. Boa parte da inquietação atual provém da incongruência entre a perfeição de nossas idéias sobre os fenômenos físicos e o atraso escandaloso das "ciências morais". O ministro, o professor, o físico ilustre e o novelista soem ter dessas coisas conceitos dignos de um barbeiro suburbano. Não é perfeitamente natural que seja o barbeiro suburbano quem dê a tonalidade do tempo? (2)

A Rebelião das Massas. José Ortega y Gasset

Extraido do Prólogo para Franceses.

(Prezado leitor, você não precisa de um Doutorado em Linguística para deixar um pensamento seu expresando sua opinião, qualquer que seja). The Blogger.


Definimos a linguagem como o meio de que nos servimos para manifestar nossos pensamentos. Mas uma definição, se é verídica, é irônica, encerra tácitas reservas, e quando não a interpretamos assim, produz funestos resultados. Assim esta. O de menos é que a linguagem sirva também para ocultar nossos pensamentos, para mentir. A mentira seria impossível se o falar primário e normal não fosse sincero. A moeda falsa circula apoiada na verdadeira. No final das contas, o engano vem a ser um humilde parasita da ingenuidade.

Não; o mais perigoso daquela definição é o acréscimo otimista com que costumamos escutá-la. Porque ela mesma não nos assegura que mediante a linguagem possamos manifestar, com suficiente justeza, todos os nossos pensamentos. Não se arrisca a tanto, mas tampouco nos faz ver francamente a verdade estrita: que sendo ao homem impossível entender-se com seus semelhantes, estando condenado à radical solidão, esgota-se em esforços para chegar ao próximo. Desses esforços é a linguagem que consegue às vezes declarar com maior aproximação algumas das coisas que acontecem dentro de nós.
Apenas. Mas, habitualmente, não usamos estas reservas. Ao contrário, quando o homem se põe a falar, isto faz porq ue crê que vai poder dizer tudo que pensa. Pois bem, isso é o ilusório. A linguagem não dá para tanto. Diz, mais ou menos, uma parte do que pensamos e põe uma barreira infranqueável à transfusão do resto. Serve bastantemente para enunciados e provas matemáticas; já ao falar de física começa a ser equívoco e insuficiente. Porém quanto mais a conversação se ocupa de temas mais importantes que esses, mais humanos, mais "reais", tanto mais aumenta sua imprecisão, sua inépcia e seu
confusionismo. Dóceis ao prejuízo inveterado de que falando nos entendemos, dizemos e ouvimos com tão boa fé que acabamos muitas vezes por não nos entendermos, muito mais do que se, mudos, procurássemos adivinhar-nos.


Esquece-se demasiadamente que todo autêntico dizer não só diz algo, como diz alguém a alguém. Em todo dizer há um emissor e um receptor, os quais não são indiferentes ao significado das palavras. Este varia quando aquelas variam. Duo si idem dicunt non est idem. Todo vocábulo é ocasional (l). A linguagem é por essência diálogo, e todas as outras formas do falar destituem sua eficácia. Por isso eu creio que um livro só é bom na medida em que nos traz um diálogo latente, em que sentimos que o autor sabe imaginar concretamente seu leitor e este percebe como se dentre as linhas saísse u'a mão
ectoplástica que tateia sua pessoa, que quer acariciá-la - ou bem, mui cortesmente, dar-lhe um murro.

Le Passage du Temps

Le Passage du Temps

Poème original d'Ester 22/01/2011
Para ler o poema original da Ester em Português, clique aqui:

http://manifesto-interno.blogspot.com/

Au fil des années, des refrains enfantins,

La fraicheur des saisons, les chants d’oiseaux

Les sentiments épelés, les lueurs nocturnes diluées

De confessions furtives, maintes fois devinées...

Une trame d’énigmes, tendresses préssenties

Comme si la simplicité se dévoilait

Et que seul l’amour  exhibait sa lucidité

Penser ce que l’autre n’osait exprimer…

Combler le vide de silences,

Combien de mots murmurés

Saturaient le manque d’existence?

La pensée de paroles protégées

Éveille des rêves de chimères apprivoisées
Peut-on choisir un moment unique

Épanouissement du néant chaotique?

Et cependant, les secrets révélés

Dans un regard scellent leurs empreintes

C’est le passage du temps qui m’a réveillée…

Ester

Traduction du Portugais de Jean-Louis Mondon.

Through the Storms of Life with Jesus

Hope for the storms


Exclusive: Greg Laurie points out calamities sometimes come after obedience

Posted: January 22, 2011
By Greg Laurie

On Jan. 24, 1986, a significant archaeological discovery was made in a seaside village in Galilee: a first-century fishing boat. This ancient vessel, called The Jesus Boat, dates back to the time of Christ. No one knows for certain whether it was a boat Jesus and his disciples used, but certainly it is a boat that would have been similar. It is very simple, very primitive, and would have been a very frightening place to be during a storm.

So it is understandable that the disciples would have been terrified when they found themselves on the water in the middle of a storm. In fact, the disciples had followed Jesus right into the storm. Matthew's Gospel tells us, "Now when He [Jesus] got into a boat, His disciples followed Him. And suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea. ..." (Matthew 8:23–24)

Sometimes when storms come into our lives, when hardships come, we may think it is because we are doing something wrong. But notice these disciples were in the will of God. The storm came as they were obeying Jesus, not because they had disobeyed Him. And sometimes calamities will come because of your obedience, not your disobedience.

This reminds us that storms will come into our lives. The storm the disciples were facing way was a serious one – so serious in fact that these seasoned sailors began to fear for their lives. In the original Greek, the word that is used to describe this storm is also used to speak of an earthquake. So it was a megastorm. One translation from Mark's Gospel says the boat was filling with water, and they were in great danger. These were guys who knew how to navigate rough seas and knew how to use their equipment. And they were panicking. Meanwhile, Jesus was sound asleep in the lower part of the boat.

Does it ever seem to you as though God is asleep, that he is not paying attention? It can be rather disheartening when someone falls asleep when we need them. In the technical sense, Jesus, weary from a hard day's work, was asleep. But in the broader sense, God never sleeps. Psalm 121:4 says, "Behold, He who keeps Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep" (NKJV). God is always on watch, always on duty, always paying attention. Jesus was asleep because he rested confidently in the will of God the Father.

The disciples cried out to Jesus, "Lord, save us! We are perishing!" (Matthew 8:25). And that is what we need to do when we find ourselves in the midst of a storm. We are not going to offend or hurt God by crying out to him. Tell him how you are feeling. Sometimes I think we feel as though we need to sanitize all of our prayers. God wants to hear you speak from your heart. He wants honest prayer. Even Jesus, hanging on the cross, cried out, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

You can be sure the disciples had tried everything possible to get out of the mess they were in. But after exhausting all their efforts, they knew Jesus was their only hope. Sometimes in life, God will allow us get to the end of our rope to come to the end of ourselves so that we will cry out to him. And when we cry out to him, he is always ready to answer. God says, "He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him" (Psalm 94:15).

Although the shrieking of the storm did not wake Jesus, the cry of his disciples did. He heard their cries, and he responded by rebuking the storm. Suddenly everything calmed down. Matthew's Gospel tells us that it was "a great calm" (8:26).

God has his purposes in the storms of life. Maybe you are in a storm right now and have cried out for it to stop, but it hasn't. In fact, maybe it has gotten worse. You are wondering why God is allowing it. There are no easy answers to that question, but know this: where there are no trials in life, there will be no triumphs. It has been said the hammer shatters glass, but it forges steel. And often in the hardships of life, great things will come.

Many times when you go through difficulties in life, there are things you will learn and discover that you would not learn anywhere else. Psalm 23 is a well-loved passage of Scripture that opens with a pleasant scene: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters" (verses 1–2). It was written by a shepherd named David, who knew a little bit about sheep. But David continues, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me" (verse 4).

"Hold on," we say. "I signed up for green pastures and still waters – not for dark valleys. I don't do valleys." While there will be those times God will take us to green pastures and still waters, he will lead us into valleys as well. And it is through those valleys we learn important lessons, because fruit does not grow on mountaintops; it grows in valleys. And here is the secret of making it through the valleys of life, the storms of life: Know that you are not alone, and God will get you through whatever you are facing.

David said, "I will fear no evil; for You are with me" (Psalm 23:4). That is the hope. That is the promise: God is with you. And He is with you in your storms.

Psalm 46

By Jack Kelley from http://gracethrufaith.com

Posted in: Bread From Heaven

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at the break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Come and see the works of the LORD, the desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear, he burns the shields with fire. “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.

The first lines of this Psalm have always had a calming effect on me. They were among my first adult memory verses. Every time I face difficulty or uncertainty, they spring automatically into my mind and I am strengthened. It’s a promise God has made to us, the promise of a haven of peace in a world of turmoil.

The writer of Hebrews used a nautical analogy to bring the same point home. He wrote, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.” (Hebr.6:19-20) In the time before harbors could be dredged to accommodate large ships, sailors of these ships had to anchor outside the harbor and transfer passengers and goods to small boats to get them ashore. Because wind and currents would work to tear a ship loose from its moorings in open seas, there was always a danger that they’d find themselves cast adrift. To prevent this, they attached their anchors to long lines and then rowed them into the harbor where they set the anchor in calm waters unaffected by winds and currents. Though the waves rolled and the wind blew out where the ships were, the anchors remained firmly set beneath the quiet waters of the harbor, keeping the ship secure.

In Hebrews 6 the writer explains the security afforded to one who trusts solely in the Lord’s completed work on the cross. Using this nautical analogy, he pictures the anchor of our soul planted firmly in the Holy of Holies. Protected from the winds of controversy and the currents of deceit, our blessed hope is secure, anchored in the Throne Room of the Creator by our Lord Jesus, Who sprinkled His blood there on our behalf. Let the storms rage, let the waves crash. God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Hallelujah!

Le Voyage ~~~ FAZ DE CONTA

Para ler o poema original em Português  FAZ DE CONTA da autora Ester, clique o link seguinte: http://manifesto-interno.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2011-01-04T06%3A40%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=3

Imagine que le passé enfante le présent
Que la voix et le sourire au fond du coeur

Demeurent une source inépuisable de tendresse,

Que le poème n’a pas rendu son âme

Dans la bifurcation du doute

Ou qu’il s'échappe dans les ruines de l’incertitude.

Imagine que la carte n’est pas déchirée,

Que le plaisir du partage est pendu

A des moulures de songes

Et ne gît pas dans des tombes sans écho,

Que la douleur s’exprime dans la musique oubliée
Et que le temps écoulé est un brouillard évaporé,

Que les battements du coeur restent constants

Et que l’enfance persiste pourtant

Même plongée sous le linceul des responsabilités.

Imagine que le rire et les larmes ne se connaissent pas,

Que la transparence n’est pas un miroir

Aux reflets de mots obscurs,

Que le sentiment est un voyage d’aller sans retour

Que la logique ne consiste pas en lettres ponctuées.

Imagine que les billets sont encore intacts

Et que les notes de musique continuent à s’égrener,

Que cette pensée non-conformiste et ingénue

Se nourrit de plénitude.

Que le silence devient métaphore et mot de passe

Pour tisser une nouvelle trame.

Imagine, mais sans feindre

Que nous serons heureux avec le peu familier

Et non avec le superflu hors-de-portée,

Que nous n’abandonnerons pas la chasse aux réponses

Que nos pieds fouleront à nouveau les lieux oubliés

De terre et de sable fin,

Que nous n’abriterons pas une indifférence pour les présages

Et que nous refuserons d’accepter la défaite.

Imagine que je ne tremblerai pas

Quand la porte s’ouvrira

Et que je verrai une main nommée Espérance

Faire un geste m’invitant à entrer.

Imagine …. un voyage sans fin.

Ester

(Traduit du Portugais par Jean-Louis) 

Apaisement

"Il parla et fit lever un vent de tempête, qui souleva les flots. Ils montaient vers les cieux, ils descendaient dans les abîmes; leur âme se fondait dans leur malheur; saisis de vertige, ils chancelaient comme un homme ivre. Et toute leur sagesse était engloutie. Dans leur détresse, ils crièrent à l'Éternel, et il les fit sortir de leurs angoisses. Il arrêta, calma la tempête, et les flots se turent. Ils se réjouirent de ce qu'ils s'étaient apaisés. Et l'Éternel les conduisit au port désiré. Qu'ils célèbrent l'Éternel pour sa bienveillance, et pour ses merveilles en faveur des humains". Psaume 107: 25-31.  

"Terre, terre" , annoncent les mouettes,

Comme des enfants, les dauphins pirouettent

Au rythme des vagues capricieuses

Célébrant cette belle journée avec les passagers.

Soudainement, un maelstrom fielleux

S’échappe d’une outre éolienne,

Puant et vert d’envie

A la rencontre heureuse de la famille.

La toile des nuages s’épaissit

Les murs liquides ondulants

S’élèvent courroucés et menaçants.

Allons-nous dans cette danse macabre

Vers un naufrage inévitable ?

La tempête croissante suspend

L’harmonie de l’abîme méditerranéen

Alimentant l’effroi humain

A la pensée que leur dernière heure

Les attendait sans aucun recours.

Le cœur dans cet instant réflexe

quand la boussole s'affole

Se rappelle que Dieu existe

Et s’agenouille humblement

En demandant pardon et miséricorde.

Le temps des bonnes œuvres est passé

Plus de "Notre-Pères", ni de "Je vous salue Maries"

Sur un chapelet à égrener.

La vidéo se déroule fulgurante

Devant la mémoire impuissante.

La conscience ne sert plus de refuge

Plus d’hypocrisie, ni de subterfuge

Tout est dans la bascule,

Plus de karma, ni de graisser la patte

Voici que s’approchent l’ange bourreau

Et ses feux infernaux

Ou la vie éternelle et ses récompenses.

Alors que j’étais coi, contemplant mon sort,

Une douce voix  maîtrisant les vents furieux

Me posa la question suivante :

« Est-ce toi qui d'une parole calme les tempêtes,

Peut-être, es-tu le capitaine de ton propre bateau.

Tes yeux peuvent-ils percer les nuages

Et prédire ton propre avenir » ?

Reconnaissant la présence divine et la voix

Qui me sauva la vie maintes fois

De la guerre, de la violence humaine,

Des éléments déchainés,

Je remis mon cœur apaisé

Dans les mains du Sauveur

Qui nous invite à nous reposer

Dans l’amour sûr de son cœur.

Finalement, les vagues calmées par sa parole,

Le bateau arriva à bon port

Où depuis le début

Il suivait le chemin prévu.

Jean-Louis