Jesus and His Relationship with the Disciples

Life Project Blog

“The student is not above the teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for students to be like their teachers, and servants like their masters. If the head of the house has been called Beelzebul, how much more the members of his household!

“So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care…

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John has a Question

Life Project Blog

Matthew 11:1-19

A new section of the book opens in 11:1; a section that continues through chapter 14 in which Jesus’ ministry is viewed in light of the rejection of certain groups of Jews. We begin with the change of scene in verse 1 in which Matthew tells us that after giving the disciples their instruction, Jesus went out to teach and preach in the towns of Galilee. His activities here are much the same as they had been before, when some of John the Baptist’s disciples bring Him a question from John, who is in prison:  “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

Jesus gives them an interesting rely to convey to John: Go and tell him what you have seen… and then He adds something: “Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me” (10:6). John was the one who…

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EVERYDAY JESUS ( I will have my revenge! )

Christ a poet

I will have my revenge!

LORD Jesus,

I was lost {Since all have sinned and are falling short of the honor and glory which God bestows and receives.- Romans 3:23}, but your eyes went around tracking me { The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch upon the evil and the good.-Proverbs 15:3}, till you founded me in the earth.

Yet Everyday, we claim we gave our lives to you {…who has first given God anything that he might be paid back or that he could claim a recompense? – Romans 11:35}… When it was you who loved us first { We love Him, because He first loved us.-1 John 4:19}, you who gives your life to us {For out of his fullness(abundance) we have all received [all had a share and we were all supplied with] one grace after another and spiritual blessing upon spiritual blessing and even favor upon favor and

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The Race

Christ a poet

There is a race
That is run across the face
Of the earth, everyday.
Racers line from a starting place called ‘Birthday’
They all have enough fuel for the first leg.
Their mission is to get a second full filling of fuel before the first leg is over.

…from the Heavenly Race.

There is no gunshot to signify the start of the race. And their volumes of fuel differ…some have enough fuel for 70years…some for 100, etc
The racers start out screeching and screaming at the sound from her face, some of you know her as Mommy, Mumsi, etc.
They all have forgotten their destination, so they shoot of in different directions, families, talents, dreams, etc.

…from the Heavenly race.

The tracks appear dangerous, there are traps and tricks, bites and licks, designed to distract racers from getting answers. Answers to the question of ‘How does a racer get their…

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The Zillionth Love Song !

vikas chandra

Such has been love, that aging cherub
Blasphemed for life, deified to death
Lone voice of truth, amidst times’ hubbub
Yet one more song, past that lasting breath

“Would you care to carve, on my stone,
Your passions’ worth, for me!” she said?
“May this be, that matchless milestone
In histories resound, our love undead!”

“Was it never before, as much sublime?
Your cherished blush, my flush of zeal
How different would be, that wondrous chime?
That tolls to lord, our hearts’ appeal”

She said, “Like the freshest dew, so pristine
That avows pure creed, of my heart’s virtue
Let’s see, how your fiery flairs, underline
The bliss of bread, that sees us through”

“O’ Dear! Beyond us, lies that world
Where angels tread, on lovelorn hearts
Will have the bounds, of two realms blurred
To dare the limits, of our intuitive arts”

Will love evolve, to a new threshold?

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Whispers Of The Storm !!

vikas chandra

New birth of doom, or heaven’s calls?
The fury that slept, now kissed the horizon
See the shards of sky, torn by fiery walls
Held bonded, by faith, of its spirit unwon

Said the storm to night,” O! How I blazed in dark!
Lookers forgot you! “What is night?” They said!
“Better shining storm, than this misery stark,
Enough of this dark, be it storm, instead””

“I was meant to be, the night, I am
Not a fickle storm, with fleeting light
But a serene shade, not a blinding sham
Nor a brazen parade” said the night

Said the storm, to sky, “Have scorched your soul,
Many times before, to weigh my sway
Why a passion misspent, on the dole
To lose once more, to your fortitude’s play”?

“Akin to an urchin, you, in my vast expanse
How bland your pranks, no pain, no sigh
You sound like the gist, of…

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Cardinal

O at the Edges

Cardinal

Question: what is air if not
the means by which we

see and feel? Sound creates only
itself, another version of the original

sense. I move from shadows to a deeper
darkness, hoping to find that point where absence
ends. But there is no end, only

continuation, a cry for those
who offer their hands in ambiguity. Sometimes
a cardinal’s call fills our

morning with questions. So
little of all we touch
is felt. We are the air. The air is.

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The Funny Fellow

Christ a poet

Once knew a girl who would never cling, always she would seat calmily, her eyes ever-wandering yet lips never questioning. Her demeanor never shallow, she would cower in solitude leaving conversations destitute. Her goals were never swallowed up in the band-wagon’s shadow but would give a glimpse of humor when complexities arose. Her time was precious, her mannerism hallowed yet nothing seemed perfectly right with this funny fellow . The back seat in class was always attended by her religiously, to catch every philosophical order although the latter seemed to prove better as logic severed any unanswered rhema. 

She wore intelligence on her sleeves, her persistence strong in skin and in the futility of the fellow kin in making her do their will. As relaxed as a humming bee, she would peck through insecurities not necessarily giving antidoctes but prescribing detectable maladies.

This lady I’d often see, alone even in the…

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