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                           Sometimes love is very illusive...

Once More

A whisper is heard in the wind
today,
You know it's been heard
before.
A rumor is told,
It's oh so old.
It comes from the days of lore.

It formed in the shape of a

heart today,

A cloud that's been seen before.

The cloud wouldn't hold,

The wind foretold.

It soon would be there no more.

So, the blue in the sky turned

grey today,

You've certainly seen it before.

A sad story told, it's also old.

Rain soon would begin to pour.

Rain soon would begin to pour

...once more.

Wisdom from Another Book of Poems

There lives a man whose shelf is full

Of books he's never read.

With rumored facts he judges life,

To ignorance he's been wed.

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Excerpt from Of Angels and Me (https://www.dontillman.com)

While sitting in a book store one day,I noticed a book entitled, Destined for Destiny: The Unauthorized Autobiography of George W. Bush. The title got me thinking and I sat down and wrote this poem.

FORTUNATE FOOL

Is destiny really destiny?

It truly makes no sense.

Is fate to be expected,

Or just coincidence?

Someone somewhere answers,

But he cannot answer why.

Is providence providential?

The question seems to loom.

Is fortune all so fortunate,

Or could it bring my doom?

Someone somewhere knows this,

But he cannot tell me why.

Fortuitous is my first name,

Fatuous my last.

They are so incongruous,

But that's the roll that's cast.

Someone somewhere did this,

But he never told me why.

Outtake from my in-process novel Tychicus:

Tychicus: The Courier 

Chapter 8

Anarchy raged throughout the city streets. People ran, screamed, cursed, and accused. No logical explanation seemed apparent for the emotional whirlwind growing larger by the minute, creating energy of its own, and consuming all in its path. Any who stood to oppose it were either crushed, or hurled to the side, becoming the mangled debris left in the wake of a powerful storm. 

Demetrius caused the commotion. A prominent Ephesian silversmith, Demetrius produced and sold miniature figurines of the goddess Artemis. He was convinced that the spreading Christian movement was sure to deliver a death blow to his treasured way of life and, more importantly, to his treasured livelihood. Finally, he incited the fears of the local trade union members and provoked them into action.

I was stranded near the entrance of a market pavilion, trying hard to avoid being caught up in the flood of people flowing by. It seemed a literal river was raging past me, filling every crevice of the street, the pavilion, and even the gutters. I held tightly to the arm of a statue to Artemis that announced entry into the Patio of the Great Goddess, a grand place where the people of our city went to purchase items of beauty or to enjoy a lazy summer’s afternoon. I knew it was sacrilege to touch the goddess so, but I really had no choice. It was that, or be swept away by a mass of angry people who seemed to have no idea why they were angry.

“Grab me!” were the first words I could make sense of in many anxious minutes of holding on for my very life.

“I said, grab me! I will surely go to my death if you don’t. Here, grab my hand!” said a commanding voice that was not at all consistent with the boy’s appearance that met my eyes. He was a wiry youth dressed in peasant’s garb, and wearing the collar of a slave. Stretched out before me was his dirty hand—hard, and callused, it seemed as if it should belong to a man much larger and much older than the one before me. I faced quite the dilemma. If I reached for him, I would likely lose my own grasp, and we both would go to our deaths. But if I did not, well…well, I couldn’t just watch him go by, could I? I squeezed the goddess’ limb as tightly as I could with my left arm and reached for his outstretched hand with my right.

I grabbed his wrist and he grabbed mine. So tightly did we lock arms that nothing the mob could do would undo the grip. We were as one. In fact, strangely, from that moment on we truly were as one. In the midst of that chaos and panic, through the life-giving hold of one hand on another, a friendship was formed that, unknown to us at the time, was to last a lifetime. It was not the only time one of these hands would be extended to the other during desperate circumstances. 

“Hold tight; don’t let go!” I yelled over the noise of the throng.

“What do you think me, stupid?” he replied. “Just pull!”

I don’t know how we finally succeeded in pulling free from the mob. In one moment we were losing ground, being sucked along with the surging flow of humanity, and in the next we both were safely clutching the bent elbows of the white bleached goddess. I’ve always felt it was a supernatural hand that joined our two and provided the strength we so obviously lacked.

“My name is Onesimus,” the boy said as he fought to regain his breath. “I am grateful for your assistance. I owe my very life to you, I think!”

“My name is Tychicus,” I said, having to raise my voice above the din to be heard. “Don’t thank me for your life, thank my Lord and Master. I am sure it was His strength, not mine that prevailed.”

“To your lord and master then, whomever he may be, and wherever he may be, since only your hand presented itself to me, not someone else’s.” In his distraction, Onesimus nearly lost his hold of the goddess’ arm. He swung wildly to the side and was nearly torn away by a passing bull of a man swinging what appeared to be a chair leg through the air. I thought for a moment our desperate struggle was to have been for naught. 

“Perhaps we should speak of your benefactor at another time,” he managed to say as he regained his place on the statue’s pedestal and once again began to breathe. “I mean no disrespect, but I think our thoughts should remain on survival at this point.”

Onesimus was right. If anything, the scene was gaining momentum and becoming uglier and more volatile before our eyes. I could hear people shouting, “Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!” Interestingly, none of those shouting turned to give homage to the goddess whose statue they were passing and upon whose pedestal I was standing. I was grateful for that, for surely, I, along with my new friend Onesimus, would be pulled from our perch and caused to pay dearly for our profanity. 

It was some time before the mob began to thin. When it did, I could hear some near the rear of the progression questioning others as to where they were going and what they were doing. I saw that several poor souls had been trampled by the mob and lay lifeless in the street. There was blood flowing in small streamlets, and clothing strewn about as if it were intentionally left behind to be used to wipe it up. I stood stunned, holding the goddess’ arm, and wondering what in creation had just happened.

I jumped to the ground with Onesimus following me. Carefully, we moved from our safe perch and began to inspect the scene before us. The street seemed suddenly and eerily empty, save for those hapless few who had given their lives in a sacrifice to confusion. Before long, I heard someone calling my name and turned to see a very welcomed face moving swiftly toward me.

 When I Was Young 

When I was young, 
There was a man in the moon; I was certain; I could see him! 
When I was young, 
Santa Claus rode the chimney. It didn’t matter that we didn’t have a chimney, 
Santa still rode the chimney. 
When I was young. 

When I was young, My dad was bigger and stronger than all other dads; I was certain; I could tell! 
When I was young, 
My nails didn’t seem to want to be driven through the boards, 

But dad could make them. 
When I was young.
 
When I was young, 
Easter bunnies and goblins were equally real; I knew, ‘cause I had seen them too! 
When I was young, 
I was convinced my Uncle’s trunk grew dollar bills. 
Didn’t make sense, but still, it did it. 
When I was young. 

As the days go by, fantasies die; 
It’s sad, but it’s oh so true. 
Mysteries fade, heroes evade, 
And the world takes a different hue 

Blogspot does not provide for on-sight communication except for a comment section following each article. If you would like to converse about anything on my blog, you are welcome to contact me at dontillman@gmail.com.

 Imposter

Confusion wraps its arms
'round truth
A lovingly embrace
It casts its luring light on life
A gentle Interlace

...or so it seems

 Would you want to read more?

MORNING RED

Chapter One

It really wasn’t a good day to die, he thought. Not that he was frightened by the prospect; he was just, well, disappointed. Why today? Why not another day? It seemed wrong that the end would come on--of all days--this particular one.

He didn’t have the strength to move. Actually, he didn’t want to move; he was too tired. And he was cold. At first it was just his hands and feet, but soon the chill invaded the rest of him like the advance of a cold front’s formidable edge. His shivering became more and more pronounced. He didn’t know which was more disconcerting, the shaking of his body, or his knowledge of what was causing it to shake. He had always thought that freezing to death would be an unpleasant way to go, but never realized one could do so on a swelteringly hot mid-summer’s day.

He decided it really didn’t matter that today was the day. Sure it was a bad day to die, but what day wouldn’t be?

He’d been told by others that a brilliant white light lit the way from this world to the next. For him, things just started going black. At first it was at the periphery, but soon the darkness began what seemed a sinister encroachment on the light. He thought if he tried hard, he might remain conscious enough to sense what it was like at the very end, but, while he was thinking about it, it all just went away.”

 Coming Fall 2022!

I am captivated by little known people who make big differences. The biblical character Tychicus was such a man. Having lived mid to late first century in western Asia, he joined the Apostle Paul and company in Ephesus to continue Paul's 3rd missionary journey and beyond. Tychicus eventually carried Paul's letters from Rome to the Christian churches at Ephesus and Colossae, to Philemon, and perhaps others. History sees him later serving as bishop of various churches, including that of Chalcedon. Chalcedon was a suburb of Constantinople (modern Istanbul), which became the eventual, but temporary, home of the Roman Church, and birthplace of the Eastern Orthodox Church. I've wondered about the influence Tychicus must have had on those world-shaping occurrences. This story is set within the fascinating history of the mid 1st century A.D., centered around a character mentioned only five times in Scripture, but known to have shaped the curve of history from that time forward.

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I also have two poetry books, "Of Angels and Me" and "Another Book of Poems" available through Amazon, or you can link to them from my web site, dontillman.com

The Thinker

Fly through the sky,

   but darkly.

Starkly

said,

   and widely read.

I've sewn a fabric dyed with words.

Can't go back 

   tonight,

Gravestones with great alarm.

   Erudite.

But not in time.

No, not in time.

Speak up man, speak up to me!

   Don't look down,

          don't bend your knee!

There's none to hear, or can't you see,

   but maybe one,

           or two, or three.

The Spilling Over Effect

Over the years, I have endeavored to learn how to walk closer and closer with Christ. I have a longed to know God in a deep and personal way, and to please Him with the way I lived my life. But I have found being the person I think God wants me to be is rarely easy! The practical application of biblical truth in everyday life is easier to discuss than to experience.

At times in my walk, I think I've actually gone backward rather than forward in my efforts to be a better follower of Jesus--certainly held things in neutral for a while. I discovered, however, that anything other than authentic spiritual growth was less than satisfying. I didn't want to be fake or false. So I set out to understand how I could become more of the person God would have me be.

Watching Other Believers

It didn't take long to see I wasn't the only one struggling with the practical application of biblical truth in everyday life. The more I watched, the more I saw; and the more I saw, the more shocked I became? In spite of these believer's best efforts, they were behaving much the same as the worldly people around them. Given similar circumstances, those who professed belief in Christ seemed to choose similar solutions to problems and issues in their lives as did their law-abiding, moral-by-society's-standards, non-believing neighbors.

So what was wrong? There certainly was no shortage of believers desiring to do the right Christian thing. Some even had become legalistic in their efforts, thinking they could measure their righteousness with external actions. I saw people who distinguished themselves from the rest of society only in that they attended church services regularly and gave their money solely to religious causes.

As for the values that undergirded the everyday decisions of life, I saw little difference. Hard decisions that required a stand for what was right, or significant personal sacrifice, or a moral issue that required a godly response, seemed to be made by the same standards as those used by the rest of the world.

Discovering the Truth

One day it dawned on me. Talking righteousness does not equal righteousness. Wanting righteousness does not equal righteousness. Following a set of rules does not equal righteousness. None of of these remove our vulnerability toward taking the easy way out of a troubling situation. For us to be righteous, our righteousness must flow from the One who is in us, not be produced for the One who is in us. That does not mean we do not attempt to please Jesus with our actions, but He Himself taught us that, "Apart from Me, you can do nothing" (John 15:5).

Godly behavior must spill out from within us. When we fully submit ourselves to the Christ who lives within us, we will find ourselves behaving like Him. That is the whole idea behind the spiritual fruit discussion in Galatians 5:22-23. It is His fruit that we bear.

How can we bear His fruit? We can't! However, we can allow Him to bear His fruit in us. The "Spilling Over Effect" occurs when Jesus is so alive in us and controlling our thoughts that we behave as He would in the situations of our lives--and do so naturally. It sounds too simple to be true, but if you try it, you will look back after a few months and see a new person looking back at you. Intentionally allowing Jesus to control your thinking, desires, and ambitions will result in behavior that is different than that you would have chosen for yourself. 

A Different Approach

I have become firmly convinced that if I am to apply biblical truth in my everyday life, I must approach the endeavor in an entirely different way. Rather tan concentrating on improving my behavior--patience, for example--I must must concentrate on giving Jesus authority over my lack of patience and give Him the right to exercise His patience through me. The more I strive to to surrender myself to His control, the more I begin to behave like Him. It's supernatural. It's the Spilling-Over Effect.

So What Do We Do?

To experience Christ's spilling-over effect in your life:

1. Come to grips with the fact that it is not what you profess, but what you do that indicates the core values steering your choices and decisions.

2. Read Paul's letter to the Galatians. You will clearly see that a legalistic approach to faith will leave you wanting in the end. Legalism is too heavily dependent on your own ability to follow the rules.

3. Rather than "trying hard" to change your behavior, seek to submit that area of your life needing change to the authority of Christ. Do this as often as it comes to your mind. After a period of time, you will be able to look back and see the changes He has made, and be pleasantly surprised!

4. Begin watching the Spilling-Over Effect start to spill over into the lives of others who are watching you. What could be a better gift to yourself and to others in your life?

 

Just Thinking...

If my soul was to sing, would you lend me your ear?

Would you?

What if it were a triumphant song?

or a somber song?

Would it make a difference?

You see,

the question is not whether my soul will sing,

but

whether or not you’ll hear.

If my soul sheds a tear, will you stop to ask why?

Will you?

What if it’s a glad tear?

or a sad tear?

Does it really matter?

You see,

the question is not whether I will cry,

but

whether or not you’ll care.

If my soul slipped and fell, would you run to my aid?

Could you?

What if it were a righteous fall?

or a sinful fall?

Would it make a difference?

You see,

the question is not whether I will fall,

but

whether or not you’re near.

A sigh is a cry and a cry is a lie,

And the soul sings a mournful song.

A friend is a friend if only he cares,

And needs not an answer to “Why?”

Just Thinking...

One of Aesop’s ancient fables is about a lion and three bulls. The story tells how a certain lion often prowled about the pasture where three bulls grazed together. The lion had tried on many occasions to lure one or the other of the bulls to the edge of the pasture where he might attack him and eat him. The bulls were wise to his treachery, however, and stayed close together while grazing. The lion had even attempted a direct attack, but the bulls had formed a ring around him so that if he attacked one, the others could gore him.

As time passed, the lion came upon a plan. Secretly he began to spread rumors and to slander one bull to another. At first the bulls wouldn’t believe him. However, as he persisted in these lies, they began to look distrustingly at each other. Finally, they attempted to avoid each other by grazing in different sections of the pasture. This was what the lion wanted and he began to attack them one by one, enjoying a great feast.

The Bible says that our enemy the devil “prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8). When we are divided, we become vulnerable. Let’s covenant together to shun Satan’s efforts to divide and devour. Let’s forego gossip and slander, confront mistrust rather than harbor it, and check our damaged egos at the door. When resisted, Satan’s power is negated. Together, we can feed on spiritual truth of the gospel and stand firm in our faith as a body of Christ! 

Writing

Writing, when properly managed, is but a different name for conversation. -Laurence Sterne