Mar-26-Marie Stopes - Condoms and Murder.

Imagine if you will, The Hitler Euthanasia Clinic or maybe the Pol Pot Philanthropic Dispatch Center for Infants with Issues and Parents with Problems. Have you got the grotesqueness of that? So, as from today, abortion clinics will be advertising their murder facilities on television.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7964826.stm

Why? Well of course it's the only way to tackle teenage pregnancy and I am sure that Hitler and Pol Pot would most surely agree.

Did I tell you we used to live in South Florida, adjacent to the city of Hialeah?
http://www.operationrescue.org/archives/dead-baby-closes-florida-abortion-mill/
There's a nice little abortion clinic there that murders live babies both in and out of the womb, throwing the corpse in a cardboard box and leaving it in a cupboard. After all, what's a baby nowadays? Just a b bag of unwanted blood and guts, just offal and unwanted off scouring of the womb fit for the dustbin.

So now the UK is advertising murder on television.

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE WHO WILL HELP US SET UP A PRO-LIFE CENTRE IN TUNBRIDGE WELLS. WE ONLY NEED ONE THING AT THE MOMENT..MONEY AND LOTS OF IT. SEND IT TO ME NOW!

Cheques/checks in ANY currency will do.

Rev. Farrell
WAY PAST THE TIPPING POINT
146 Broadmead
Tunbridge Wells
TN2 5NN

thank you.



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Mar-24-Of Parades and Pioneers

How easy it is for people to join a parade. To become part of a marching extravaganza once its under way and gathering steam, takes no real effort whatsoever. Yet the pride you will see exhibited on some peoples faces for being part of the parade, would make you think that they had been though the fears of the first step and the all the frustrations of conception and fatigues of birth, instead of just being a very small fry who had slipped into the big school now running upstream. Look at those smiling teeth though! WOW! Look at that chest all puffed out and proud as though they had contributed to the formation of the thing. Yup. it's just too easy to join a parade.

To pioneer a parade, ah now, that's another thing entirely. There are not many people, indeed they are so few in number you can almost drop the letter 'M' and say there are hardly ANY people willing to gamble there all on the starting of a parade. Interestingly, the same people who will join it and puff their chest out in pride are the same folk who will suck breath through their tooth in front of the pioneer, shake their head, grab their kids and run for the nursery and the large heated sanctuary. Sanctuary indeed, for that is what they need.

We need some gamblers willing to ride the riverboats of God Most High today. We need some pioneers, some folks willing to hazard their everything on something worthwhile, some people occupied with Whispers, disturbed by the ghosts silhouette of an almost present, indescribable something that takes them beyond the edges of cultivation, onto the seas of God, pushed out into the deeps where they and they alone shall see the wonders of the Lord.

Here's a well know poem for you - enjoy!


The Explorer - Rudyard Kipling


"There's no sense in going further--it's the edge of cultivation,"
So they said, and I believed it--broke my land and sowed my crop--
Built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station
Tucked away below the foothills where the trails run out and stop:

Till a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes
On one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated--so:
"Something hidden. Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges--
"Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!"

So I went, worn out of patience; never told my nearest neighbours--
Stole away with pack and ponies--left 'em drinking in the town;
And the faith that moveth mountains didn't seem to help my labours
As I faced the sheer main-ranges, whipping up and leading down.

March by march I puzzled through em, turning flanks and dodging shoulders,
Hurried on in hope of water, headed back for lack of grass;
Till I camped above the tree-line--drifted snow and naked boulders--
Felt free air astir to windward--knew I'd stumbled on the Pass.

'Thought to name it for the finder; but that night the Norther found me--
Froze and killed the plains-bred ponies; so I called the camp Despair
(It's the Railway Gap to-day, though). Then my Whisper waked to hound me:--
"Something lost behind the Ranges. Over yonder! Go you there!"

Then I knew, the while I doubted--knew His Hand was certain o'er me.
Still--it might be self-delusion--scores of better men had died--
I could reach the township living, but . . . He knows what terror tore me . . .
But I didn't . . . but I didn't. I went down the other side.

Till the snow ran out in flowers, and the flowers turned to aloes,
And the aloes sprung to thickets and a brimming stream ran by;
But the thickets dwined to thorn-scrub, and the water drained to shallows,
And I dropped again on desert--blasted earth, and blasting sky. . . .

I remember lighting fires; I remember sitting by 'em;
I remember seeing faces, hearing voices, through the smoke;
I remember they were fancy--for I threw a stone to try 'em.
"Something lost behind the Ranges" was the only word they spoke.

I remember going crazy. I remember that I knew it
When I heard myself hallooing to the funny folk I saw.
'Very full of dreams that desert, but my two legs took me through it . . .
And I used to watch 'em moving with the toes all black and raw.

But at last the country altered--White Man's country past disputing--
Rolling grass and open timber, with a hint of hills behind--
There I found me food and water, and I lay a week recruiting.
Got my strength and lost my nightmares. Then I entered on my find.

Thence I ran my first rough survey--chose my trees and blazed and ringed 'em--
Week by week I pried and sampled--week by week my findings grew.
Saul he went to look for donkeys, and by God he found a kingdom!
But by God, who sent His Whisper, I had struck the worth of two!

Up along the hostile mountains, where the hair-poised snowslide shivers--
Down and through the big fat marshes that the virgin ore-bed stains,
Till I heard the mile-wide mutterings of unimagined rivers,
And beyond the nameless timber saw illimitable plains!

'Plotted sites of future cities, traced the easy grades between 'em;
Watched unharnassed rapids wasting fifty thousand head an hour;
Counted leagues of water-frontage through the axe-ripe woods that screen 'em--
Saw the plant to feed a people--up and waiting for the power!

Well I know who'll take the credit--all the clever chaps that followed-- Came, a dozen men together--never knew my desert-fears;
Tracked me by the camps I'd quitted, used the water-holes I'd hollowed.
They'll go back and do the talking. They'll be called the Pioneers!

They will find my sites of townships--not the cities that I set there.
They will rediscover rivers--not my rivers heard at night.
By my own old marks and bearings they will show me how to get there,
By the lonely cairns I builded they will guide my feet aright.

Have I named one single river? Have I claimed one single acre?
Have I kept one single nugget--(barring samples)? No, not I!
Because my price was paid me ten times over by my Maker.
But your wouldn't understand it. You go up and occupy.

Ores you'll find there; wood and cattle; water-transit sure and steady
(That should keep the railway-rates down), coal and iron at your doors.
God took care to hide that country till He judged His people ready,
Then He chose me for His Whisper, and I've found it, and it's yours!

Yes, your "Never-never country"--yes, your "edge of cultivation"
And "no sense in going further"--till I crossed the range to see.
God forgive me! No, I didn't. It's God's present to our nation.
Anybody might have found it, but--His Whisper came to Me!


Anyways I did a search on you tube for my favourite scene where Jimmy Stewart ( no one's face displays emotion like that mans can) discovers what became known as the Glenn Miller sound. It's inspirational. Here a man finds the indescribably which he has been looking for all his life. The Whisper turns into a voice. I just love it and thought I might share it with you. Be blessed.

Mar-20-The Mega Church Manufacture of Spiritual Retards & Crippled Clown

Dream Word – MOVE

Jeremiah 3:15
And I will give you shepherds according to My heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding. NKJV.

The Mega-Churh Manufacture of Spiritually Retarded, Crippled Clowns

The servants of Christ wash the feet of travelling men, journeying across this dirty world ever closer to both the heart and the city of Jesus. The servants of Christ, might retool these same journeymen, re-arm them, re-orient them, re-educate them maybe, reinforce them in the faith most certainly but shall surely return them to their journey, until the next and necessary pit stop, when they shall have the privilege to deal with a bigger, leaner, ever onward, ever upward ‘looker,’ than they previously had to service. For their journey, through both challenge and change, has brought to them increased personal strength and increased personal maturity and they have moved on, manned up, grown in both grace and truth! Grown in their appetite as journeyman, grown in that, their sight of the heavenly city is clearer, the smell of the green, green grass of their eternal home is that much more acute; their ears are more full of the sound of singing angels; their skin is more sensitive to the feeling and the flowing of the wind of the Spirit; their arms strong and lifted up; their feet full of peace, more certain, more sure and more directed in the way; their armour dented but bright; their sword bloodied yet sharper; the loins of their mind now being more lifted and focused; the belt of truth, tight and secure around the chiselled core of their being! es indeed, the servants of Christ, that is the pastors and leaders of the church of the living God, shall happily and with great thankfulness, wash the feet of such travelling men.

Now, this picture of growing and journeying strength, of maturing in grace and truth, I believe is a Biblical expectancy. However and unfortunately, this picture is in fact, to our Laodicean lot anyways, an unwanted and unsought for fantasy and ashamedly, for I speak as a shepherd, a foot washer for the journeying man, the shepherds are mostly to blame for this most sorry state of affairs. In my journeying around the Christendom and in my ministry to the same, I am tired of seeing many gigantic, staff led churches, doing everything for their congregations to justify their often too well paid existence, by enabling thousands of kindergarten kiddies to simply continue to languish on the breast and in so doing have created vast churches of sucklers and suckers, baby Christian clowns. It’s just pitiful.

All teachers must ensure that at some point, and the sooner the better by the way, that their pupils overtake them. Yes, all teachers must pull back the bow for eventual release. However, when teachers have students who never move on, and in North America especially, these stunted students attend churches in their tens of thousands, then two strange things will happen to the church. Watch this now, for first, the teachers themselves turn into smiling imbeciles, toting suitcases full of well worn platitudes and the odd blunt instrument, and secondly, their students will turn into spiritual cripples, retarded Christians, who of necessity, have to have their backside wiped for them and be personally spoon fed with poorly, pre-chewed rubbish. Such sad shepherding is not releasing strong disciples into their journey, but rather, is producing imbecilic imitations of Christ, who ride around the children’s race track, pulling into the same old pit stop for the same old problems, which will be dealt with by same old people in the same old inept, low octane, low expectation way. There is you see, no expectation or plan no daring demand, no challenging necessity for people to grow in grace and truth

I do not envy the shepherd, who has sold himself into such dismal drudgery and I pity the sheep that still suck on these strange, fat staff titties that such churches alluringly dangle before them, for neither the smiling and imbecilic teachers nor such crippled disciples, will stand in the fires which are to surely come upon us. It is out of such great concern that I speak so harshly tonight. Cool or not so cool, senior or otherwise, I pity the pastor that has to stand before Jesus and account for every empty, energy absent, wimp of a word which he has spoken. It will not bode well for such makers of retards.

Yes, if you are not changing and growing, then you are spiritually retarded. If you are not being re-armed, re-orientated, renewed, refreshed, re-educated and re-enforced in your faith to then be released into and served on, your destined journey, then you are being short changed, slowly killed, and are going nowhere. Indeed, you are purposefully being kept in your wheelchair and paying through the nose for that privilege. You are a spiritual retard and you have been fed and bred for it from what other imbeciles have termed the finest pulpits in the land.

I must confess, that at the moment, I can find no hope in my heart for such lost shepherds, locked into such a good looking and grossly debilitating system. However, I do believe there is some hope for those lost sheep who are sick of mommies milk and wanting at last, to take care of their own rear end. Yes there is hope for those sheep if they want it. The beginning of the answer is simple. Find some hard looking men and some greener pastures. Find some scarred and sun burnt shepherds moulded by the heart of Hosea and the sporting the look of Amos the iron man about them, and if they and the greener grass are over the hill and far away, then move there! Time is running out. For the sake of your poor retarded spirit, find a good restaurant that serves whole food, that makes you eat your greens, that measures your B.M.I. and coaches and cajoles you into becoming a muscular man, a man of the Word and the Spirit, a man that can survive in the field, form families and feed himself and them, teaching them to do the same. Find such a church and go to it.

The servants of Christ wash the feet of travelling men, journeying across this dirty world ever closer to both the heart and the city of Jesus.

Listen: - Therefore, beloved, looking forward to these things, be diligent to be found by Him in peace, without spot and blameless; and consider that the longsuffering of our Lord is salvation — as also our beloved brother Paul, according to the wisdom given to him, has written to you, as also in all his epistles, speaking in them of these things, in which are some things hard to understand, which untaught and unstable people twist to their own destruction, as they do also the rest of the Scriptures. You therefore, beloved, since you know this beforehand, beware lest you also fall from your own steadfastness, being led away with the error of the wicked; but grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. 2 Peter 3:14-18a