by Marie | Sep 18, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
The paradox of our time in history is that : We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; Wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; We spend more, but have less; We buy more, but enjoy it less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; More conveniences, but less time; We have more degrees, but less sense; More knowledge, but less judgment; More experts, but more problems; More medicine, but less wellness. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life; We’ve added years to life, not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, But have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor. We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space; We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; We’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice. We have higher incomes, but lower morals; We’ve become long on quantity, but short on quality. These are the times of tall men, and short character; Steep profits, and shallow relationships. These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; More leisure, but less fun; More kinds of food, but less nutrition. These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; Of fancier houses,
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by Marie | Sep 17, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
A man’s daughter had asked the local minister to come and pray with her father. When the minister arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows. An empty chair sat beside his bed. The minister assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. “I guess you were expecting me,” he said. “No, who are you?” said the father. “I’m the new minister at your church,” he replied. “When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up.” “Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bedridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?” Puzzled, the minister shut the door. “I have never told anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man. “But all of my life, I have never known how to pray. At church, I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head.” “I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” the old man continued, “until one day about four years ago, my best friend said to me, ‘Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here is what I suggest. Sit down in a chair; place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus in the chair. It’s
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by Marie | Sep 16, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
We head back to Clara’s room. The door is now ajar and we knock. Her beautiful face peeps round the door. We are recognized and hugged and welcomed. Clara casts a glance over our shoulders as she ushers us in, checking she is not missing out on any possible trade. Last time we sat with her on this pristine clean floor she sobbed like a small child as she told me her mother, back in Bangladesh, had died. Clara so longed to go home. She had not seen her mother since she was trafficked here at the age of about 17 and now, because of what she does, is no longer welcome in her community. Clara has no place of belonging, but this room is her pride and joy. She is one of the most beautiful girls which means she gets the most customers, which means she can make her room pretty. Net curtains blow in the breeze, the walls are painted pink, and a rich patchwork quilt covers the bed. A television perches proudly on a shelf high up and all is kept neat and tidy. We talk to Clara about the chance of a different life. I ask her if she has ever seen a butterfly. With drawing and translation, I try and explain how a caterpillar lives
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by Marie | Sep 15, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
I was back in Kolkata, India, in the red light district of Kalighat. The brothels, where daily sacrifice is offered on the altar of lust, surround the Kali temple where daily sacrifice is offered to Kali – the goddess of death. I make my way along the busy, dusty street among people hurrying to work, stopping to shop at the many stalls selling trinkets to offer in idol worship, or making their way to school in old- fashioned uniforms from Empire days. Lunch money, given by trusting mothers, is often spent to feed desire by school boys who cannot resist temptation in this place. My friend, Monique, who has lived and worked in Kolkata for over 16 years, is my guide. We are greeted at the entrance to one of the “lanes” by the brothel manager. She steps aside and lets us enter her world – the darkest world I have ever been in. Remarkably, we are welcomed to come in and befriend the girls who are her source of income. Does she realize our goal is to rescue them from under her very nose? As we pick our way along the lane we pass the most beautiful girls who are “put” out at the entrance, close to the street to attract customers, like the lush fruit shining at the
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by Marie | Sep 13, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
Doctors told me to prepare for a long road ahead. Though they were baffled over the severity of Curt’s condition, they saw no reason Curt shouldn’t recover over time. His vision and hearing were improved. But this unexplained fainting, excruciating headache, and relentless confusion persisted. The doctors made one thing clear: this rehab would be a marathon, not a sprint. On day six, Curt was ready to move to a rehab hospital. There, the intake staff established their goal: helping Curt to function well enough to live at home again. I was appalled. My goal was complete restoration to his ministry and life as we knew it! They let me know that I needed to adjust my expectations. Later this same day Curt revealed, somewhat conspiratorially, that he figured out that when people were praying for him, he should close his eyes and be quiet. What a devastating revelation! Curt was experiencing a total disconnect from spiritual concepts. He asked me what God was, wanting an explanation. My words didn’t seem to sink in at all. As his supper arrived, I left him and headed home to sleep in my own bed again. That night was one of my lowest points ever. The next day marked one week after the softball hit. My sister, Kristi, and her mother-in-law, Cheri, accompanied
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