Day’s End

    I am tired tonight. Busy day. All I have to blog is this: "Phew! I'm glad the ay is over."

The Tempting Seductress

    Once again, sleep beckons me. A tempting seductress, she speaks softly and sings lullabies to rock me to sleep.

    Tomorrow, I will awaken to another day. The day may bring joy. It may bring pain. All I know is that tomorrow will be different. No day is ever the same, at least not on my job.

    When I took a job in the newspaper business, I did not know how there would always been something different each day. Each day, there are new challenges, new people to meet and new stories to write. It's all different. It's all fresh. It may be exhilarating, it may be frustrating, but there is always excitement. Some of the excitement I like. Some of it I don't, but at least I can never say my job is boring.

    Lately, my life away from work has been anything but boring and dull. How I long for just a normal dull day. I pray that my level of excitement goes up with my level of exhilaration. I pray for frustration and troubles to ride out on the wind.

    Now, I listen to sleep's sexy voice. Perhaps that is where I will have a "normal dull day" in the darkness of the night.

    Good night, readers. Have pleasant dreams.

A License To Live

    I awoke this morning after seven hours of blissful sleep. After hardly sleeping the night before, I needed the sleep before going back to my assignment.

    When I speak of my assignment, I am not talking about my job. Today is Sunday, the Lord's Day, so during my assignment, one of the geographical locations I will visit is 2485 SE Midway Church Road, Lee, Florida. I will be in church. It is only part of today's assignment, but it could be the most important part.

    My life is filled with suspense. My assignment is to live and breathe, to be the places I need to be and do the things that I need to do. I'm not sure of what all of them will be.

    Recently, some of the curves in the road have been sharper and some of the mountains I have had to climb have been harder. God never promised me an easy life. He did promise strength to sustain me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:5
 

    Today, I will get dressed and head out to my next assignment. I'm not "Bond…James Bond" and I don't have a license to kill. I'm Bembry…Jacob Bembry and I have a license to live.

The Seductive Voice Of The Siren, Sleep

    Sleep is beginning to creep up on me. Like a scene in a horror movie, it creeps up stealthily behind me and taps me on the shoulder with its cold bony hand.

I need sleep. I crave sleep. Tonight, I will yield to its seductive voice.

    I did not sleep much last night – or this morning I should say. I was seeking ways to find more followers for this blog. I want to be able to share my "Jacob's Ladder" column and my faith with the world. If I gain followers and get more page views, hopefully I can garner advertising dollars and make the site profitable for me. Regardless of whether I do turn a dime or not, I will keep blogging. If nothing else, it will be therapeutic for me and everyone needs therapy now and then.

    So, tonight, for a few hours, I will shroud myself in the tomb of slumber. Tomorrow, if the Lord tarries, I will awaken and get ready for church. If he does not tarry, I will awaken to the sound of Gabriel's trumpet and rise through the air and meet Him in the sky.

    Good night, everyone.

Pleasant dreams.

Summer’s Fleeting Symphony

    Flowers bursting forth with fragrance. Newly mown grass. The smell of hay after the rain. It was the first day of August and the aromas still wafted on the wings of the wind, but they were not as noticeable as they had been at the first of spring.

    Spring had brought with it change. A 12-year-old boy notices the smells that spring brings. Freshly cut grass. The smell of cowhide in baseball gloves and the smell of a new baseball before its first pitch is ever thrown.

    Twelve-year-old boys being twelve, they also notice how pretty that 12-year-old girl smells, whether it's from her perfume, soap or maybe just a stick of Juicy Fruit she might be chewing.

    With its smells, spring also brought change. Soon, school would be getting out for summer and I and the other 12-year-old boys would enjoy our vacation.

    When the first day of August rolled around, I began to dread going back to school but it's was always with a hint of excitement for lay ahead. A new school year brought with it new smells, including the smell of new jeans, newly sharpened pencils, new paper and the smells of the freshly mimeographed syllabi that teachers would hand out.

    Today is the first of August. It's exactly one month from my birthday on September 1. It is exactly eight days from my sister Abbie's 40^th birthday. It's exactly six months after my brother Danny's 41^st birthday. There are still smells, there is still change and the world keeps turning as it did when I was 12 years old.

    Mimeographs are a thing of the past. New jeans don't seem to have the same smell as they did when I was 12. What's happened to the fresh smell of a new notebook?

    The flowers and the grass still smell the same and I give God thanks for that.

    Soon, summer will be ending and autumn leaves will fall to the ground, begging me to rake them up. Then, the warm Florida autumn will turn to a fairly cold north Florida winter before spring bursts forth in song again, beckoning me to take her by the hand and dance.

    Now, I listen as summer plays the notes on her symphony. The symphony will end soon, but it still seems so far away.

    

A Stone's Throw

Have you ever stood on the banks of a river with a smooth polished pebble in your hand and toss it to the other side?
Have you ever stood on a road with nothing but blacktop or dirt in front of you for miles with a rock in your hand and tossed it as far as you could?
No matter how far you can throw it – whether it plunks in the water, only travels two feet or if it travels far -- the distance is the same. It’s just a stone’s throw.
How far is it from Heaven to Hell?
The answer could be, “It’s just a stone’s throw.”
For some, they might answer that it’s far.
“And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.” (Luke 16:23)
Although Hell is described as being far from Heaven in this Bible verse, it was still close enough for the rich man to see Lazarus in Abraham’s bosom.
Some people may feel that they are all right with God. They treat people right and do good deeds. Still, they do not know Christ as their personal savior.
They’re a stone’s throw from Heaven.
Others may realize that they are lost and feel that there is no hope for them. They lose themselves in booze, drugs and sex with whoever or whatever comes along.
They’re a stone throw from Heaven.
Are you lost today? Do you need a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?
Ask Him into your heart and live for Him.
He’s only a stone’s throw away.

The Stone Of Mercy

“I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” - Revelation 2:17
The person being tried stood shuddering as he awaited the verdict. Was there nothing he could do to be set free?
Gloom and doom shrouded his very being, making the courtroom feel like a cold, ice-covered grace. He knew that the grave would not be cold for long. It would turn from a frozen tundra into a fiery furnace and the fire would burn forever.
As he waited for the judge to make his decision, he knew that he would be given the black stone, which was an indication of his guilt. There would be no vindication for what he had done.
The criminal stood, knowing there would be no exoneration and that his execution was imminent.
“What if I threw myself on the mercy of the court?” he thought. “What if I told the judge how sorry I am for all the crimes I have committed. I have sinned, o Lord, be merciful to me!”
With his head bowed and tears in his eyes, he suddenly felt someone standing in front of him. Afraid to look up, he waited for the judge to drop the black stone of guilt in the cup.
He heard stone hit the inside of the urn. Looking in to his shock and disbelief, he saw a white stone; a stone that indicated that he was not guilty.
The criminal who had been freed looked up and saw the face of Jesus Christ. He reached and grabbed Jesus’ nail-scarred hands.
Jesus had paid the price so he could go free.