Today, as in Jerusalem, we wave palm branches before Jesus.
Today, as in Jerusalem, Jesus tearfully laments, "If you had only known what would bring you peace."
Today, as in Jerusalem, we cry out, "Hosanna!" "Save us!" not realizing we are safe in the midst of any enemy if we will only trust God.
Today, as in Jerusalem, we raise heralds of war and expect peace.
Today, as in Jerusalem, we do not know our enemy, so we draw battle lines in the wrong place.
Today, as in Jerusalem, our real enemy ravages us while we fight amongst ourselves, attacking our fellow man, attacking our sisters and brothers.
Today, as in Jerusalem, Jesus weeps.
Don't fly your flag 'til it's a rag
Or hangs on by a thread.
This dishonors not only the flag
But also the thousands dead.
Because of some malevolent hate
For our wealth or for our country,
For everything that makes us great,
Or for the fact that we are free,
These thousands dead, they gave or lost
Their lives, some in lengthy pain.
We need to honor this great cost
And not this price profane,
By letting the flag so costly bought
flutter, tattered, to the ground,
For it is the blood of those who fought
that's in this fabric wound.
So fly your flag, and fly it proud,
But fly it properly,
And show respect to those who vowed
To defend Liberty.View the American flag code
Be what I want you to be. Be good. Be kind.
be helpful. Be polite. Be naughty. Be me.
Be this. Be that. Be a man. Be careful.
Be what God wants you to
My soul is greatly vexed and filled with anger, O Lord, for the harm of the innocent.
All day long, they snare and prod and cut your servants.
They are like wild beasts which lie in wait and pounce upon good people.
My heart is full of rage for their cruelty.
Will they never stop, Lord?
Will hatred always be with us on this earth?
Why are they that call themselves your people cruel?
Let not their hurtful darts find their marks. Let not their words reach the ears of the innocents.
Let these wolves in sheeps' clothing find other words for their tongues to toil upon.
Let the hurting find shelter, and cover the crying with your wings of mercy.
My soul is greatly vexed for the pain of your servants, O Lord!
All day long, my heart cries to you for their sake.
They are like eggs in a basket which are filled with great delights but are broken when handled too roughly.
My heart is filled with love for your servants, O Lord.
Will their lights never shine in the darkness, Lord?
Will the flame of your love never reach into the hurting depths and heal them?
Why are those who hurt the most the most attacked?
Let not their wounds go untended. Let not their ears be bludgeoned by the tongues of vipers.
Let these your servants find strength and encouragement in your temple.
Let the painful blows miss them, and drive the wicked ones away.
My soul is greatly vexed and disquieted, O Lord, by the pain of the hurting.
Heal them, O Lord, that they may glorify you and serve you with joy.
Let hatred and darkness be consumed by your love and light.
Let the plans of the wicked fail, and let them be taken in their own snares.
Let the tongues which speak harm be silent.
Let the hands that beat be still.
Let the words that heal be spoken.
Let the hands that soothe touch the wounds that prevent wholeness.
Let those whose work for you is still waiting burst into light and pierce the darkness.
Praises are due to the Lord of heaven and earth, the God of Love, the Holy One of Israel.
Praise ye the Lord.
'Twas the night before Friday, and all through the chan,
Not a creature was heard, nor the voice of a man...
The nicks were, well, nestled all snug in their list,
But no one was talking, down there in their midst.
The away notes were hung in their brackets with care,
As all those awake would just sit, sit and stare.
They stared at each other, without a single clatter,
And only one Op wondered what was the matter.
And what to his wondering eyes did appear?
Nothing. No talk, no debates, and no popups, no jeers.
So the Op settled back, and he said with a sigh,
"If no one will talk, well, I guess I'll go. Bye!"
Vague-- and I couldn't discern what you thought,
and lacking this, I couldn't say what I ought.
I had to weigh my words carefully,
for you had set ambushed for me
so many times before that night,
but this time, you were impatient, and I--
nothing I said was right. And I,
I kept trying to regain my balance, but you
were twisting me into Nots, as I
tried to get us back to the core,
away from the blackened kettles and pots.
You assumed you knew the truth,
so the truth I spoke became to you a lie,
You say I don't have the integrity,
you thought I had. I bled, and I cried,
but you didn't believe you'd hurt me.
"I never stabbed you, and if you'd told
the truth, it wouldn't hurt."
The wound didn't hurt as much as you
telling me over and over again,
that you could never again trust me.
I have always tried to tell you
the truth, though your questions
have often been lies. I can't
earn your trust, but you had no right
to take it away, because my heart
has always been honest with you,
even when it was breaking. I tried
everything I knew, but you were too proud
to admit that there was any chance
you had asked the wrong question. There
was never any doubt, and no apology,
because you thought it could not be,
that you might be mistaken.
Another night, another day, and
another innocent heart is breaking.
I came admitting my errors, but you have only stabbed me again.
I'm afraid you are right in one thing, our friendship is at an end.