Hatred will only perpetuate hatred. As a seed begets its corresponding fruit, so hatred results in destruction and death. The seeds of love bring forth healing and life.
Source: Two Fires
Photo Credit: Peace | Peace and sunset in the wind flickr.com by Moyan_Brenn
Fire can breed life or destruction. It depends on the source. If it’s come from the intentional igniting of a spark, it can bring warmth and healing. Yet if it roars from the roots of careless ignorance, it’s destined to devour all in its path.
There are two fires raging in our streets. One is a fire of hatred—born in the crucibles of suffering only to birth relentless pain and endless ruin. The other is of love. It rises in the hearts of those who refuse to be overcome by the darkness of evil, bearing power to overcome the destructive force of hatred.
Hatred will only perpetuate hatred. As a seed begets its corresponding fruit, so hatred results in destruction and death. The seeds of love bring forth healing and life.
We have a choice. We can leave a legacy of hate, or a legacy of love. Only one is a worthy legacy.
To choose love over hatred requires change. It means letting go of our hurt and fear in favor of the higher calling. Generations to come will reap the harvest of our choices, for good or for evil. Hate breeds hate; love breeds love. Love, though met with hatred, will ultimately prevail. What will your legacy be?
“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy…For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life…” (Francis of Assisi)
“Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love…we love because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:8, 19)
Photo Credit: Free photo: Wildfire, Fire, Flames, Hot – Free Image on Pixabay …
how would i know
what you were thinking
if i never stopped to ask?
how would I know
that you were hoping
today would be your last?
how would i have seen
the darkness in your life
if i didn’t try to look
more deeply in your eyes?
and how would i have heard
the cry behind your smile
if i didn’t choose to wait
and listen for awhile?
yet now i feel your pain
and now i share your tears
i hold the heavy weight
of the burden that you bear
i’ve tasted of your sorrows
i’ve walked inside your shoes
i’ve finally had a glimpse
of what it’s like to be you
all you needed was some comfort–
to know you’re not alone
if i never stopped to listen
how would i have known?
Source: More than a Neighbor
Photo Credit: Rejected Rose | by Kurayba Rejected Rose | by Kurayba
Queue the game show music. You have ten seconds to name as many of your neighbors as you can. Ready, set…go!
How many names did you come up with? And how well do you know the people behind those names? I’ll have to admit, I didn’t do too well beyond my immediate neighbors. Sadly, in our quiet and transient neighborhood, we don’t see each other much beyond the parking lot. It was a surprisingly pleasant gift when our neighbors got locked out of their apartment and had to camp out in our living room for a couple hours.
What’s got me thinking about this? Last year as I was cleaning out my parents’ garage after their recent move their neighbor came by. He asked about my mom and dad, genuinely concerned about their well being and wondering if he could help in any way.
“You see,” he said, “your parents were more than neighbors to us. They always went out of their way for everyone in the neighborhood. They took the time to get to know us. They even helped us when we needed it—doing things like shoveling our walks. This place won’t be the same without them. And we want to help them like they helped us.”
What powerful words. My parents have always demonstrated the art of being a neighbor—my dad, the friendly, humble servant and my mom the gentle, nurturing caregiver. When I was little, they knew everyone within a few block radius, and even welcomed strangers into our home on a regular basis—from a lonely old man named Augie, to an autistic boy named Danny, to foreign exchange students from all over the world—one of whom said of my dad: “If everyone in the world were like him, there would be no war.”
How appropriate my dad’s nickname is Jasper—a precious stone known for representing sacrifice and royalty. It is listed as the first foundation stone in the walls of heaven. How fitting that my mom’s name means “grace.” She’s one of the most gracious people I know.
As I think about all I’m grateful for, one of the biggest things is that I have parents who are an example of what it means to “love your neighbor as yourself.” They’ve shown me what the Christian life should be: “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” And they’ve emulated the words I saw each day on our kitchen wall as I grew up, “Love is the little things you do.”
“There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13)
“Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.” (Romans 8:28, MSG)
Source: Redefining Perfect
Photo Credit: Desert Road | A road in Arizona | Chris Bickham | Flickr
I don’t want to leave this world unnoticed. I don’t want to leave the world unaffected by my being here. But I know it’s not always the big things that matter. More often, it’s the little things that add up to the dash between the years.
Source: the Dash Between the Years
Photo Credit: File:Sunset at the sea in autumn with dried grass in front.jpg …
This Life & Beyond 
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