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raindrops25's journal
One of the rabbits we played with in Thailand. I nearly screamed of joy when I saw this. (does the rabbit look like he's smiling or what?) (:
my new doggie! Sheltie the Shetland Sheepdog (:
dogs and rabbits aside, I'm thanking God everyday for my internship opportunity at Buy1Give1!
the people I'm working for are really awesome, and they spend alot of time mentoring me! especially paul, who spends time teaching me the right way to do marketing and other things! and he's really a brilliant genius, so I'm always left with the huge urge to voice record all his wise words :D
maybe I'll take photos of the brochures I'm doing and post them up here when they're eventually printed! :D
oh yes, thank God for a blessed OCIP trip to Chiangmai too. Indeed we were greatly blessed by our Thai hosts. Plus I had alot of fun doing kids activities too, like scripting and creating puppet shows with my team for the kids! definitely reignited the drama-queen hidden in me.
Plus grateful for safety and lots of fun times in Bangkok later too!
Thanks to all who prayed! lots of live!"My only qualification for writing a book on grace is the clothing I wear. Let me explain.
For years I owned an elegant suit complete with coat, trousers, even a gat. I considered myself quite dapper in the outfit and was confident when others agreed.
The pants were cut from the cloth of my good works, sturdy fabric of deeds done and projects completed. Some studies here, some sermons there. Many people complimented my trousers, and I confess, I tended to hitch them up in public so people would notice them.
The coat was equally impressive. It was woven together from my convictions. Each day I dressed myself in deep feelings of religious fervor. My emotions were quite strong. So strong, in fact, that I was often asked to model my cloak of zeal in public gatherings to inspire others. Of course I was happy to comply.
While there I’d also display my hat, a feathered cap of knowledge. Formed with my own hands from the fabric of personal opinion, I wore it proudly.
Surely God is impressed with my garments, I often thought. Occasionally I strutted into His presence so he could compliment the self-tailored wear. He never spoke. His silence must mean admiration, I convinced myself.
But then my wardrobe began to suffer. The fabric of my trousers grew thin. My best works started coming unstitched. I began leaving more undone tan done, and what little I did was nothing to boast about.
No problem, I thought. I’ll work harder.
But working harder was a problem. There was a hole in my coat of convictions. My resolve was threadbare. A cold wind cut into my chest. I reached up to pull my hat down firmly, and the brim ripped off in my hands.
Over a period of a few months, my wardrobe of self-righteousness completely unraveled. I went from tailored gentlemen’s apparel to beggars’ rags. Fearful that God might be angry at my tattered suit, I did my best to stitch it together and cover my mistakes. But the cloth was so worn. And the wind was so icy. I gave up. I went back to God. (Where else could I go?)
On a wintry Thursday afternoon, I stepped into his presence, not for applause, but for warmth. My prayer was feeble.
“I feel naked.”
“You are. And you have been for a long time.”
What he did next I’ll never forget. “I have something to give you,” he said. He gently removed the remaining threads and then picked up a robe, a regal robe, the clothing of his own goodness.
He wrapped it around my shoulder. His words to me were tender. “My son, you are now clothed with Christ” (see Gal . 3:27)
Though I’d sung the hymn a thousand times, I finally understood it:
Dressed in his righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.”
-
Excerpt from “In the Grip of Grace”, Max Lucado




daddy!
hammie baby :D
my DG dears (:
jeanne! (we look like ghosts standing outside a haunted house o.0)
joel! :D
