Scripture
But we were hoping that it was He who was going to redeem Israel.
~Luke 24:21, NKJV
Quote
When our dreams do not become reality; perhaps we are dreaming the wrong dream.
~Ya’akov
I reread much of Charles Allen’s little book THE MIRACLE OF HOPE last night. Allen’s books have always encouraged me and I needed the encouragement. I read the book first in August of last year and as I started composing the blog, I had this thought…I have probably shared this story before but if you are like me, you have forgotten. I can identify with the disciples on the road to Emmaus, “I had hoped President Trump would be the one to get his hand of the handle and flush the stinky Washington DC toilet.” Apart from a miracle, this is not going to happen. I had also hoped that a landslide victory on election day was spark some sort of revival in America and that we would do some repenting and return to our moral bearings but this hope was also dashed. The question is: where do we go from here? I have already stated it clearly on several occasions, the democratic party is totally corrupt; actually Washington DC is totally corrupt and the includes Republicans like Richard Shelby. They are purely evil and it appears that they are going to gain control of everything. Where does that leave Christians? I can tell you where it has left me the past few days, wallowing in self-pity and on the brink of despair. I know I have lived a sheltered life because this is the greatest disappointment of my life time. First of all, I have to get beyond the self-pity, which is not edifying to anyone. I was laying in bed praying yesterday and asking the LORD to help me when I thought of an old friend Jon Stephenson. I’m not sure what Jon had, I think MS but he spent his short life in a wheel chair and was in the nursing home by age 40 or sooner. So enough with the feeling sorrow for myself.
Thomas Carlyle, a nineteenth century historian, wrote a three volume set on the French Revolution. Carlyle was not doing well, he was laboring in poverty and obscurity and hoping for a break. He labored hard over his first volume of the French Revolution and then gave it to his friend John Stuart Mill to read. Mill was fascinated by the work and was reading the manuscript by his fireplace. Upon retiring, he did not pick up the loose pages that he had read and laid on the floor by his chair. Before he could get back to his reading, his house keeper {name was June} picked up all the lose paper and put it in the fire. Carlyle was devastated and vowed never to write again; he took a gun and shot himself in the head. No, no, just kidding but he did go into a prolonged pity-party and refused to write. Then one day he was looking out the window and he saw a mason building a brick wall for his neighbor. He noticed that the man laid one brick at a time and this gave him hope. He said, I will rewrite the manuscript one page at a time and he did. So what are we going to do? We are going to live one day at a time praying for the LORD to resurrect our hope. You have to admit, all this stuff makes us homesick for the land where we never grow old.
Looks like we are going to have a beautiful day and for the first time this fall, I may get a chance to watch some college football. I plan to watch the Clemson/Notre Dame game. We must keep praying for our President and for a miracle. It looks like the Supreme Court may be our only hope. The political establishment is against Trump. What really bothers me is they are willing to destroy the country to get him out of Washington. June told me that I could stop wearing my Trump cap and I told her “never.” They will have to take it off my head.