The Ziklag Almost Daily 1.4.24

Beauty, Wisdom and Grace

Tuesdays and Thursdays are BJJ days, both for me and the family. The kids are now attending adult classes, and the long sought after goal of converging home school, school sports, and family time is complete.

It’s a big chunk of the day 2x a week, so it really eaks into my workflow. Or, I should say, when I don’t go to class I can get so much done! But the payoff, even before family time converged, is well worth it.

If you ever get a chance to visit the Hebron Collegium…

Maybe tomorrow…

📐🦋Almost Daily Maxim

Neither rage nor malice can long breathe without jealousy. cf Pr 27:4

📐🦄Almost Daily Red Letters

The greatest of these is “love.” cf Mt 5:42

📐📦 Almost Daily Talk Them Into It

Talking Them Into It is about witnessing baptisms into the Kingdom of God in the Name of Jesus Christ. Talking Them Into It is not about growing your congregation, improving your denomination’s market stock, or providing a manufacturing manual for redeemed souls. Talking Them Into It is about the power of the Holy Spirit of Jesus to grant you confidence for standing firm in these evil, latter days.

Are you weary of the darkness? Would you like to see your friends and neighbors born again in Christ? Are you tired of being silenced while the devil at the table has his say?

Talking Them Into It is about biblical principles and the basics of nature. It’s not going to happen with manifestos. It starts with learning to talk all over again.

📐🪽From the Wyr Eld of Watergeist

It was a warm day on a grassy hill under a blue sky.

“Where in earth…?” he said out loud to himself as he sat up to look around at the glorious sea if green that surrounded him. It was the greenest grass he had ever seen, as if each ion were glazed in magnificence. Every blade was supple and smooth, each beyond a million feathers dancing in the beyond pleasant breeze. Even his own skin seemed to glow, though how under so bright and kind a sky he could not imagine. It was like lemonade, only with joy baked inside.

He leapt to his feet, filled with a rush of vigor and curiosity. He was a long, long way from anywhere, and he felt it sure: this was a most dreadful kind of beauty.

Ringo.

Edgar cast about in hastened fear, searching his body and pockets in a frenzy, only that didn’t work very well because, to his great surprise, he no longer had any pockets. In fact, he did not have his normal clothes on at all! He wore nothing but a fitted and somehow also flowing white robe, as comfortable as one’s favorite bedsheet yet a martial edge.

He didn’t pause to ponder it because he was busy scrambling in a frantic search all about the grasses at his feet, in desperate terror that he had forever been separated from his dearest friend. After ripping up handfuls of glorious green in heedless madness, he at last collapsed in a puddle of agony on the shredded aftermath. The breezy warmth all over whispered love and forgiveness with all the detached and heartless might of the winds of time and the sun rising over the scorched earth of a war torn desert.

He thought certainly he would die, it hurt so badly. But after hating that pain with all his might did’n make it go away, he sat up again, green, and blue and light all around.

“Ringo,” he called again, one last time. But it was like he was talking to someone who had never been there at all.

📐🌊Almost Daily Sun Tzu

Even a great man, tired and malnourished, is a danger to himself. cf Sun Tzu 1:26

Till then, like a tree, by streams…