[Part 4, Chapter 28] If you want to gain access to a certain unit in the Glynde Lutheran Retirement Homes where my parents live, you would probably need a combination of a baseball bat, a certain amount of energy, and persistence. If I wanted to gain access to that same unit, all I need is […]
[Part 4, Chapter 27] I know a person so obsessed with death and dying, it is has robbed him of life and living. I, too, have my moments. At 3am, lying in bed, I’m sometimes assailed by the lie “when you’re dead, you’re dead; there’s nothing more.” Contemplating my mortality, rather than slumbering in the […]
[Part 4, Chapter 26] It’s a joy to visit my parents at their place. When I turn up and knock on the door, I always hear the same cry come back, “Come on in. It’s open.” I have access. They are happy to see me. Just imagine if, upon entry, I started the conversation like […]
[Part 4, Chapter 25] Favour removes condemnation, judgement, and rejection from our life, granting us access to acceptance, pardon, and freedom through adoption—all gifts from Father’s heart. Having access is a potently powerful gift. Sadly, many Christians aren’t living fully in the potency of what is already theirs. It’s as if some people presume that […]
[Part 4, Chapter 24] It was inscribed: “There is always a light on in our fridge for you.” Julie and I lived 30 minutes further southwest out of Sydney from Rolly and Leanne, our good friends in town. Every trip from the outer suburbs to the big smoke was a chance for a catch up. […]
[Part 4, Chapter 23] Beth was special in our lives. She’d come to know Jesus out of a drug lifestyle, and a social environment where she was third generation abused, unemployed, and on welfare. We’d had a very close relationship. She is the only one who can pat me on the head and call me […]
[Part 4, Chapter 22] Please, don’t judge me, but I don’t like Christmas carols. My dislike has to do with overkill. Four services on Christmas Eve will do that to you, especially when your office is situated next to the band rehearsal area. My Joyeux Noël, killed by an excess of “The First Nowell’. The […]