The entrance from the street was locked long ago still George waited for the iron bars to rust away. Perhaps it would turn out as the dark spirits predicted, though everyone knew they were liars, that one day the whole doorway would collapse letting the riff-raff in, but now those crossed bars mirrored a knot of frustration in his throat he couldn’t swallow down.
George remembered how that very door swayed open allowing anyone ready to enter to do so. Unfortunately, that was when he didn’t have much oil in his lamp and his clothes were stained. When the door shut he knocked on it demanding management give him more time to get ready. That was when he got so, ever ever so, demonically annoyed upon hearing a strange voice say “I never knew you” that the iron bars had to be added for his own protection.
Brian’s cold was a regular part of his seasonal doldrums starting about November and lasting till Spring. The liturgy minister in the church he attended, knowing Brian’s talent with a guitar, wondered if he would like to join the Sunday worship band. Brian told him about his cold even though the cold didn’t stop him from doing anything he really wanted to do.
Without warning the minister put his hand on Brian’s shoulder and prayed out loud while everyone watched that Brian be healed. Embarrassed but courteous Brian accepted the prayer expecting nothing much from it. Three days later the cold was gone and it never returned.
Denise offers the word “band” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.
I am on vacation, but this story occurred to me and so I scheduled it for today without being able to participate in the link party.
Although impoverished Jeff found a ride out of Blislisnis to attend his mother’s funeral held in the rural town that he left decades ago teased by vanity that never bore fruit. A former classmate carrying an oxygen tank with nasal tubing who came to offer his condolences surprised Jeff with how old he himself must now look as did other former companions who proudly told him of their grandchildren.
The pastor asked him if he would care to say a few words in memory of his mother. Standing near the casket with nothing to say he tried to form words, but the only thing people remembered him saying was I’m sorry, momma.
Friends of his mother offered Jeff a place to stay with work to do giving this prodigal son an opportunity, which he accepted, to forget Blislisnis. At the gravesite he silently prayed for the privilege of a few years of usefulness, of blessing not burden to others, before finding a spot of his own somewhere in that churchyard, out of the way perhaps, but hopefully not too far away from his family.
Ever since Walter convinced the city to install electronic voting machines as the Governor recommended he beat all contenders by an overwhelming majority to become, and then stay, the Major of Blislisnis. Knowing that he never came close to winning anything before drove conspiracy theorists nuts.
However, the average citizen had other worries besides caring that Walter got richer and richer without explanation as the years went by. Although few admitted that they themselves voted for him they all assumed a large number of the electorate must have.
Talk went wild when Walter decided to run for Governor in a power-grab that would take out his former ally. One morning the local news reported that Walter had been arrested for voter fraud while computer technicians were busy reconfiguring the voting machines all of which convinced those nutty conspiracy theorists that the Governor would win re-election with more votes coming from Blislisnis than people living there (which he did).
How did we even get one language let alone the thousands that exist today?
An evolutionary answer might start with a cauldron of silent pond scum, but don’t ask where that pond scum came from. Stir the pot with the magic wand of a gazillion years of random motion until you get some noisy critters. Then keep stirring till the croaks, chirps and growling turn into men and women using language. How this happened, how this even could happen, is the hand-waving that seasons the stew.
What we learn from the Bible is something more reasonable in spite of it being more supernatural. Originally there was only one God-given language, but after God confounded communication at Babel because of disobedience there appeared many others. These were highly complex languages. They simplified over a few thousand years into what we have today.
The following commentary by E. Dane Rogers from the Tacoma Grace Bible Church on Genesis 11 goes into this biblical approach in more detail.
Therefore is the name of it called Babel; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth: and from thence did the Lord scatter them abroad upon the face of all the earth.
Phil finished replacing the bathroom faucet, turned on the water supply valves and got off the floor to try it out all while listening to a commercial promoting his hometown as the best Little Babylon in the country.
There’s sin aplenty in Blislisnis! We have everything from soul scorching addictions to petty titillations – all at discount prices! Our trained experts will tease your mind with vain imaginations and pump your darkened heart into a foolish frenzy.
After turning the handles, Phil watched the water leak from the drain pipe. While cleaning up the mess and fixing the leak he told me that my story made no sense and he rarely, if ever – no – he never EVER went to those sin arcades in Blislisnis.
How can we be thankful if we don’t remember what to be thankful for? How can we give praise if we have forgotten the goodness of God?
Andrew Wommack begins a discussion of remembrance at about 5:30 in the following video. He says (at 6:55), “The reason it’s a command to remember is because it’s our tendency to forget.” I didn’t realize it was a command before.
Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?
Trying to find something impressive to say the guide told the group he was leading through the cave that some of the mineral deposits they were looking at were as old as the most ancient graves directly above them in Blislisnis, but none of them were impressed.
He then asked them if they ever experienced darkness blacker than a demon’s heart before? Hearing only snorts of ridicule he waited till they were walking down a precarious set of metal stairs to turn off the lights without warning. Although the space in the cave collapsed abruptly onto their eyes the echoes of their screams convinced them it was still there.
When the guide let the light pop reality back into place with its ups and downs and rights and lefts, the group plotted in whispers to get even, should they ever get out, by filing complaints to the proper authorities of Blislisnis. The guide knew the stirrings of their hearts, but he also knew there weren’t enough live people left in the ghost town above them to care.