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Greetings.

The Place of Learning

To sit underneath a Black Locust Tree when it is in full bloom, to rest in the grass beneath it and take in the wondrous perfume of those blossoms, is one of the most beautiful ways to rest the body and contemplate the spirit of man and the existence of God.  William Carlos Williams once said of a precious thought, “..and there grows in the mind a scent, it may be, of locust blossoms whose perfume is itself a wind moving to lead the mind away.”  That perfume is what I desire to have and to share, a sweet essence like that of the pure white flower endowed with the signature and grace of its Almighty Creator.

But there is also another kind of locust, the kind that brings desolation on everything it touches; it is the animal created by God for His righteous judgment on the wickedness of men.  The words of God and His wisdom mean destruction to all who would seek to pervert them and then use that perversion to lead men away from God.  God’s Word is a locust to men who are at enmity with Him, to men who seek to break the cords of God’s image and judgment that is upon their lives.  You who would seek to destroy the wisdom and truth and goodness which God has given to us in this world will be eaten away by the locust.  And to you, this is a place of rebuke, a call to repentance and faith.

“Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth.  Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.  Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little.  Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.”  Psalm 2:10-12

Out In the Fields With God

The little cares that fretted me
I lost them yesterday
Among the fields, above the sea,
Among the winds at play,
Among the lowing of the herds,
The rustling of the trees,
Among the singing of the birds,
The humming of the bees.

The foolish fears of what might happen,
I cast them all away,
Among the clover-scented grass,
Among the new-mown hay,
Among the husking of the corn,
Where drowsy poppies nod,
Where ill thoughts die and good are born–
Out in the fields with God.

And as Philip James Bailey once wrote, “O, there is naught on earth worth being known but God and our own souls!” 

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