To the Little Girl in the Yellow Dress
By Walker Moore
Not long ago, you and I sat on a plane together. You tried to show me how old you were, but you had trouble keeping all four fingers up at the same time. Like all children your age, you were wide-eyed and cute as a newborn kitten.
You were at the perfect age to share everything you knew with anyone who would listen. You told me your name, your dogs’ names and your doll’s name. You told me about your baby brother and how he cries a-l-l t-h-e t-i-m-e. And then you showed me how you cover your ears when he gets too loud.
I watched you squint your eyes and put your hands over your mouth as you giggled. You asked if I had any kids, and I told you I had two boys. You weren’t impressed. You asked if I had a dog, and I told you I used to, but she got old and died. You gave me a sad look and then started singing and brushing your doll’s hair. What a wonderful age you are!
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by Rick Patrick
I will never forget where I was when I first heard the term super spiritual separatism. It was a classroom discussion in one of my first doctoral seminars. I had openly shared my experience about some church members whose preferences were causing conflict in the fellowship. Hot dogs were out since they were a “man made” food instead of a “God made” food. Candy at church, particularly around Halloween, was problematic for their eight children. Even our annual Fall Festival Halloween alternative was offensive, as they preferred to recognize Martin Luther’s birthday, presumably by nailing pieces of paper on doors all day long. These people loved Jesus and possessed sweet attitudes in their conversation. It was not so much their behavior that offended everyone, but the unmistakable sense of spiritual superiority manifested in all of their rule following. Continue reading
by Walker Moore
– founder and president of AweStar Ministries, a teen missions organization that has taken thousands of young people around the world for the sake of growing missions-minded hearts, the Gospel, and lost souls.
I remember watching a grainy black-and-white movie years ago on our tiny DuMont television. The cabinet, the size of a small refrigerator, held a screen that glowed like a Cyclops. Sitting on top was the rabbit-ears antenna, stretched out and trying its best to pull in a signal. All this modern technology astounded us.
I don’t remember much about the movie, but I know it featured a young man who was transported into the future. The changes he found there amazed and bewildered both him and his audience. Looking back, I have to laugh. His future and our present turned out to be nothing alike. Continue reading