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Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!

 
Anonymous Coward
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04/03/2013 05:23 AM
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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
This is what happens when you brainwash your kids with religious bull.

Maybe you should stop watching "the Bible" series with him.

Little kids have a great imagination and can't distinguish reality from fantasy - he is basing his on your programming.
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 37102849


The Lord Jesus bless you
Anonymous Coward
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04/03/2013 05:24 AM
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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
You said it yourself, your son is mentally handicapped!
iamwith
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 3680100


The Lord Jesus bless you
Anonymous Coward
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04/03/2013 05:25 AM
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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Like most children of religious zealots, I guarantee they will be scarred for life.

whatever
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 6730757


The Lord Jesus bless you
Judethz
Israel is Eternal

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04/03/2013 12:11 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Here's an update I posted just now...I didn't want anyone to think I forgot about this thread. It's been overwhelming to say the least...but such a blessing hf

Again, thank you to those who felt the same way
hf


THANKS TO OUR LORD!

 Quoting: BetteDavisEyes


mumcub That was a lovely message. BEST FRIEND... [link to www.chick.com]
Anonymous Coward
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04/03/2013 12:13 PM
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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
You said it yourself, your son is mentally handicapped!
iamwith
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 3680100


Dummy - you're the one that is mentally handicapped. Autism does not automatically mean mentally handicapped. Duh troll.
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
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04/03/2013 10:09 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
i thought this thing was done with


begone!
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 34765812


We keep this up for lurkers just like yourself.
 Quoting: Adventus Domini


colorbump hf
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
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04/03/2013 10:10 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
bumpshiverhugswoohoogoodnews
the lamb...becomes a RAM........the sheep He protects...for a RAM is a father to its flock...to the sheep.





[link to www.kidcyber.com.au]

ain't that interesting how nature expresses this to us....

BDE blwkss
 Quoting: Daniel of the Rose


Yes it is! Thank you my friend hugshf
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
Ojos Abiertos...

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04/03/2013 10:12 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
WOW what responses...need time to catch up oops2

I just realized I've been a member of this forum for TWO YEARS today! I expect it ALL...every kind of response imaginable damned

If anything, I've developed a thicker skin being here. I really appreciate the diversity of people and their experiences, triumphs and tragedies.

What good is a forum w/o this?

HA and the shills too rolleyes You really can't be without the bad to know what is truly GOOD hf

My heart goes out to those who posted the positive feedback and blessings...THANK YOU SO MUCH grouphug!

As for those who didn't have anything good to say, you have to answer to God for it, straight up and nothing else.

My son was very excited, in fact he was shuffling his feet while he was saying the words! For a moment, it felt like I was watching him be born all over again! It was truly a miracle for him to put those three specific words together...unfathomable yet with God, all is possible!!

So again to those who oppose this message...
TIME IS RUNNING OUT!!!

Please realize the LOVE that our Lord Jesus Christ has for you...every single one of you!! He will never leave us or forsake us...HALLELUJAH ura!!!


THANK YOU JESUS!! WE WAITING AND HOPING WE'RE READY FOR YOU!!!


peace28

chesswithGod
 Quoting: BetteDavisEyes


Hello OP

Great message btw. People that taunt are just fearful in the back of their mind of Christ's return. They can't fathom giving up their idols of television, gaming, partying, smart phones and just sinning in particular.

They invent stories that say people who are saved have mental issues. This will only get worse. It took me a while to figger out why God didn't want me to go to Churches to tell them what will soon unfold.

The reason is that there hearts are cold to Him. There will be more problems coming back to me. God is letting His people know to get ready because here I come. The few that we do try to warn will see the miracles and then explain them off.

Once a society or people get used to doing certain things, it is much harder for them to stop. It is an addiction this life that we live in. So continue what you do because there might be that one person that may change themselves for the better. These people that ridicule even would ridicule Jesus if they could. Even Jesus was ridiculed in his time and we know what happened to most of them.

So Thanks again for sharing your story and God Bless You and Your Family.

You are always in my prayers!
 Quoting: odinson222


Thank you brother for your heartfelt post hf!

Will keep you in my prayers too pray
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
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04/03/2013 10:13 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Very touching. May God bless you and your family.
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 682255


So beautiful..The Lord bless us all.
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 28630651


hf
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
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04/03/2013 10:13 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Here's an update I posted just now...I didn't want anyone to think I forgot about this thread. It's been overwhelming to say the least...but such a blessing hf

Again, thank you to those who felt the same way
hf


THANKS TO OUR LORD!

 Quoting: BetteDavisEyes


mumcub That was a lovely message. BEST FRIEND... [link to www.chick.com]
 Quoting: Judethz


Thank you sister hf
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
Ojos Abiertos...

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04/03/2013 10:14 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Will get to the rest tomorrow...God willing hf
Troubled Waters...

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04/04/2013 05:14 AM
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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
i thought this thing was done with


begone!
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 34765812


We keep this up for lurkers just like yourself.
 Quoting: Adventus Domini


colorbump hf
 Quoting: BetteDavisEyes


ohyeah
DUST TO GLORY!!!
Anonymous Coward
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04/04/2013 05:55 AM
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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
It was so refreshing to wake up and watch your video this morning. Such words of hope and comfort from such a beautiful spirit in the LORD! How quickly I forget this precious truth in a world filled such hopelessness.

To those that are HIS at HIS coming there will be nothing SWEETER TO TASTE. To those that are without a Day of BITTERNESS TO THE STOMACH as the Mystery of GOD is finished.

Praying all would be ready....

The Messiah Is Coming!
Adventus Domini

User ID: 893880
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04/04/2013 09:29 AM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
It was so refreshing to wake up and watch your video this morning. Such words of hope and comfort from such a beautiful spirit in the LORD! How quickly I forget this precious truth in a world filled such hopelessness.

To those that are HIS at HIS coming there will be nothing SWEETER TO TASTE. To those that are without a Day of BITTERNESS TO THE STOMACH as the Mystery of GOD is finished.

Praying all would be ready....

The Messiah Is Coming!
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 21921104


This world can be a dark place. But, this video shines the Lord's light into dark places. I'm reminded of a story written by Robert Fulghum. It's one of my favotites and I think it applies here.

*****

What is the Meaning of Life?

"Are There Any Questions?" An offer that comes at the end of college lectures and long meetings. Said when an audience is not only overdosed with information, but when there is no time left anyhow. At times like that you sure do have questions. Like "Can we leave now?" and "What the hell was this meeting for?" and "Where can I get a drink?"

The gesture is supposed to indicate openness on the part of the speaker, I suppose, but if in fact you do ask a question, both the speaker and audience will give you drop-dead looks. And some fool -- some earnest idiot -- always asks. And the speaker always answers. By repeating most of what he has already said.

But if there is a little time left and there is a little silence in response to the invitation, I usually ask the most important question of all: "What is the meaning of life?"

You never know, somebody may have the answer, and I'd really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask. But when I ask, it's usually taken as a kind of absurdist move -- people laugh and nod and gather up their stuff and the meeting is dismissed on that ridiculous note.

Once, and only once, I asked that question and got a serious answer. One that is with me still.

First, I must tell you where this happened, because the place has a power of its own. In Greece again.

Near the village of Gonia on a rocky bay of the island of Crete, sits a Greek Orthodox monastery. Alongside it, on land donated by the monastery, is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace, and especially to rapprochement between Germans and Cretans. An improbable task, given the bitter residue of wartime.

This site is important, because it overlooks the small airstrip at Maleme where Nazi paratroopers invaded Crete and were attacked by peasants wielding kitchen knives and hay scythes. The retribution was terrible. The populations of whole villages were lined up and shot for assaulting Hitler's finest troops.

High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of Cretan partisans. And across the bay on yet another hill is the regimented burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers. The memorials are so placed that all might see and never forget. Hate was the only weapon the Cretans had at the end, and it was a weapon many vowed never to give up. Never ever.

Against this heavy curtain of history, in this place where the stone of hatred is hard and thick, the existence of an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war is a fragile paradox. How has it come to be here? The answer is a man. Alexander Papaderos.

A doctor of philosophy, teacher, politician, resident of Athens but a son of this soil. At war's end he came to believe that the Germans and the Cretans had much to give one another -- much to learn from one another. That they had an example to set. For if they could forgive each other and construct a creative relationship, then any people could.

To make a lovely story short, Papaderos succeeded. The institute became a reality -- a conference ground on the site of horror -- and it was in fact a source of producive interaction between the two countries. Books have been written on the dreams that were realized by what people gave to people in this place.

By the time I came to the institute for a summer session, Alexander Papaderos had become a living legend. One look at him and you saw his strength and intensity -- energy, physical power, courage, intelligence, passion, and vivacity radiated from this person. And to speak to him, to shake his hand, to be in a room with him when he spoke, was to experience his extraordinary electric humanity. Few men live up to their reputations when you get close. Alexander Papaderos was an exception.

At the last session on the last morning of a two-week seminar on Greek culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields who were recruited by Papaderos from across Greece, Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the bay to the iron cross marking the German cemetery.

He turned. And made the ritual gesture: "Are there any questions?"

Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.

"No questions?" Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.

So. I asked.

"Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?"

The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.

Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.

"I will answer your question."

Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.

And what he said went like this:

"When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.

"I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine -- in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

"I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light -- truth, understanding, knowledge -- is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

"I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world -- into the black places in the hearts of men -- and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life."

And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.

Much of what I experienced in the way of information about Greek culture and history that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still.

Are there any questions?

From the book, ’It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It’ , by Robert Fulghum
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
Ojos Abiertos...

User ID: 20399685
United States
04/04/2013 10:46 AM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
It was so refreshing to wake up and watch your video this morning. Such words of hope and comfort from such a beautiful spirit in the LORD! How quickly I forget this precious truth in a world filled such hopelessness.

To those that are HIS at HIS coming there will be nothing SWEETER TO TASTE. To those that are without a Day of BITTERNESS TO THE STOMACH as the Mystery of GOD is finished.

Praying all would be ready....

The Messiah Is Coming!
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 21921104


This world can be a dark place. But, this video shines the Lord's light into dark places. I'm reminded of a story written by Robert Fulghum. It's one of my favotites and I think it applies here.

*****

What is the Meaning of Life?

"Are There Any Questions?" An offer that comes at the end of college lectures and long meetings. Said when an audience is not only overdosed with information, but when there is no time left anyhow. At times like that you sure do have questions. Like "Can we leave now?" and "What the hell was this meeting for?" and "Where can I get a drink?"

The gesture is supposed to indicate openness on the part of the speaker, I suppose, but if in fact you do ask a question, both the speaker and audience will give you drop-dead looks. And some fool -- some earnest idiot -- always asks. And the speaker always answers. By repeating most of what he has already said.

But if there is a little time left and there is a little silence in response to the invitation, I usually ask the most important question of all: "What is the meaning of life?"

You never know, somebody may have the answer, and I'd really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask. But when I ask, it's usually taken as a kind of absurdist move -- people laugh and nod and gather up their stuff and the meeting is dismissed on that ridiculous note.

Once, and only once, I asked that question and got a serious answer. One that is with me still.

First, I must tell you where this happened, because the place has a power of its own. In Greece again.

Near the village of Gonia on a rocky bay of the island of Crete, sits a Greek Orthodox monastery. Alongside it, on land donated by the monastery, is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace, and especially to rapprochement between Germans and Cretans. An improbable task, given the bitter residue of wartime.

This site is important, because it overlooks the small airstrip at Maleme where Nazi paratroopers invaded Crete and were attacked by peasants wielding kitchen knives and hay scythes. The retribution was terrible. The populations of whole villages were lined up and shot for assaulting Hitler's finest troops.

High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of Cretan partisans. And across the bay on yet another hill is the regimented burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers. The memorials are so placed that all might see and never forget. Hate was the only weapon the Cretans had at the end, and it was a weapon many vowed never to give up. Never ever.

Against this heavy curtain of history, in this place where the stone of hatred is hard and thick, the existence of an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war is a fragile paradox. How has it come to be here? The answer is a man. Alexander Papaderos.

A doctor of philosophy, teacher, politician, resident of Athens but a son of this soil. At war's end he came to believe that the Germans and the Cretans had much to give one another -- much to learn from one another. That they had an example to set. For if they could forgive each other and construct a creative relationship, then any people could.

To make a lovely story short, Papaderos succeeded. The institute became a reality -- a conference ground on the site of horror -- and it was in fact a source of producive interaction between the two countries. Books have been written on the dreams that were realized by what people gave to people in this place.

By the time I came to the institute for a summer session, Alexander Papaderos had become a living legend. One look at him and you saw his strength and intensity -- energy, physical power, courage, intelligence, passion, and vivacity radiated from this person. And to speak to him, to shake his hand, to be in a room with him when he spoke, was to experience his extraordinary electric humanity. Few men live up to their reputations when you get close. Alexander Papaderos was an exception.

At the last session on the last morning of a two-week seminar on Greek culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields who were recruited by Papaderos from across Greece, Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the bay to the iron cross marking the German cemetery.

He turned. And made the ritual gesture: "Are there any questions?"

Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.

"No questions?" Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.

So. I asked.

"Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?"

The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.

Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.

"I will answer your question."

Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.

And what he said went like this:

"When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.

"I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine -- in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

"I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light -- truth, understanding, knowledge -- is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

"I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world -- into the black places in the hearts of men -- and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life."

And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.

Much of what I experienced in the way of information about Greek culture and history that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still.

Are there any questions?

From the book, ’It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It’ , by Robert Fulghum
 Quoting: Adventus Domini


What a beautiful story AD!

Thank you so much for sharing this hearts
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
Ojos Abiertos...

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04/04/2013 02:56 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
April is AUTISM AWARENESS MONTH hf

[link to nationalautismassociation.org]

colorbump
bigD111

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04/05/2013 05:31 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Your son's autism? This too shall pass! God bless you sister!
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
Ojos Abiertos...

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04/05/2013 08:51 PM

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Your son's autism? This too shall pass! God bless you sister!
 Quoting: bigD111



cross65


Thank you & God bless you too hf
PENG

User ID: 37554935
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04/07/2013 08:59 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Nice post OP. enjoyed your video. You seem very much at peace. That's a nice place to be. :)
Will check in for updates.
hf
"May the road rise up to meet you.... May the wind be always at your back..."
BetteDavisEyes (OP)
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04/08/2013 11:55 AM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Nice post OP. enjoyed your video. You seem very much at peace. That's a nice place to be. :)
Will check in for updates.
hf
 Quoting: PENG


Thank you hf

TRUE peace will be coming SOON...prayhf
Revo/elation

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04/12/2013 02:31 AM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
It was so refreshing to wake up and watch your video this morning. Such words of hope and comfort from such a beautiful spirit in the LORD! How quickly I forget this precious truth in a world filled such hopelessness.

To those that are HIS at HIS coming there will be nothing SWEETER TO TASTE. To those that are without a Day of BITTERNESS TO THE STOMACH as the Mystery of GOD is finished.

Praying all would be ready....

The Messiah Is Coming!
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 21921104


This world can be a dark place. But, this video shines the Lord's light into dark places. I'm reminded of a story written by Robert Fulghum. It's one of my favotites and I think it applies here.

*****

What is the Meaning of Life?

"Are There Any Questions?" An offer that comes at the end of college lectures and long meetings. Said when an audience is not only overdosed with information, but when there is no time left anyhow. At times like that you sure do have questions. Like "Can we leave now?" and "What the hell was this meeting for?" and "Where can I get a drink?"

The gesture is supposed to indicate openness on the part of the speaker, I suppose, but if in fact you do ask a question, both the speaker and audience will give you drop-dead looks. And some fool -- some earnest idiot -- always asks. And the speaker always answers. By repeating most of what he has already said.

But if there is a little time left and there is a little silence in response to the invitation, I usually ask the most important question of all: "What is the meaning of life?"

You never know, somebody may have the answer, and I'd really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask. But when I ask, it's usually taken as a kind of absurdist move -- people laugh and nod and gather up their stuff and the meeting is dismissed on that ridiculous note.

Once, and only once, I asked that question and got a serious answer. One that is with me still.

First, I must tell you where this happened, because the place has a power of its own. In Greece again.

Near the village of Gonia on a rocky bay of the island of Crete, sits a Greek Orthodox monastery. Alongside it, on land donated by the monastery, is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace, and especially to rapprochement between Germans and Cretans. An improbable task, given the bitter residue of wartime.

This site is important, because it overlooks the small airstrip at Maleme where Nazi paratroopers invaded Crete and were attacked by peasants wielding kitchen knives and hay scythes. The retribution was terrible. The populations of whole villages were lined up and shot for assaulting Hitler's finest troops.

High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of Cretan partisans. And across the bay on yet another hill is the regimented burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers. The memorials are so placed that all might see and never forget. Hate was the only weapon the Cretans had at the end, and it was a weapon many vowed never to give up. Never ever.

Against this heavy curtain of history, in this place where the stone of hatred is hard and thick, the existence of an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war is a fragile paradox. How has it come to be here? The answer is a man. Alexander Papaderos.

A doctor of philosophy, teacher, politician, resident of Athens but a son of this soil. At war's end he came to believe that the Germans and the Cretans had much to give one another -- much to learn from one another. That they had an example to set. For if they could forgive each other and construct a creative relationship, then any people could.

To make a lovely story short, Papaderos succeeded. The institute became a reality -- a conference ground on the site of horror -- and it was in fact a source of producive interaction between the two countries. Books have been written on the dreams that were realized by what people gave to people in this place.

By the time I came to the institute for a summer session, Alexander Papaderos had become a living legend. One look at him and you saw his strength and intensity -- energy, physical power, courage, intelligence, passion, and vivacity radiated from this person. And to speak to him, to shake his hand, to be in a room with him when he spoke, was to experience his extraordinary electric humanity. Few men live up to their reputations when you get close. Alexander Papaderos was an exception.

At the last session on the last morning of a two-week seminar on Greek culture, led by intellectuals and experts in their fields who were recruited by Papaderos from across Greece, Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out. We followed his gaze across the bay to the iron cross marking the German cemetery.

He turned. And made the ritual gesture: "Are there any questions?"

Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.

"No questions?" Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.

So. I asked.

"Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?"

The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go.

Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.

"I will answer your question."

Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.

And what he said went like this:

"When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.

"I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine -- in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

"I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light -- truth, understanding, knowledge -- is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

"I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world -- into the black places in the hearts of men -- and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life."

And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.

Much of what I experienced in the way of information about Greek culture and history that summer is gone from memory. But in the wallet of my mind I carry a small round mirror still.

Are there any questions?

From the book, ’It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It’ , by Robert Fulghum
 Quoting: Adventus Domini


What an awesome read. And personal meaning/confirmation for me as well. Thanks for posting.
GALonFire4TheLord

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04/29/2013 03:33 AM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
hf smile_hear
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04/29/2013 03:52 AM
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Religion is for the insane
GALonFire4TheLord

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04/29/2013 07:05 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
Religion is for the insane
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 529006


:) Religion is NO GOOD...!! It's a relationship!
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05/01/2013 04:04 PM

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Re: Words from My 5 Year Old Autistic Son: "Here Comes Jesus" !!!
hf smile_hear
 Quoting: GALonFire4TheLord


Religion is for the insane
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 529006


:) Religion is NO GOOD...!! It's a relationship!
 Quoting: GALonFire4TheLord


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