Agape's Dart

Agape’s Dart

(An allegory of the church)

In the lookout tower on the Castle of Love, one of the watchmen held the high powered binoculars to his eyes and slowly scanned the desert waste that spread out before him right to the distant horizon.

“Do you see any problems,” the young soldier at his side asked

“See that little group at just slightly less than one-oh-five? They seem to be wearying of the way.”

             “Shall I send a dart, one of Agape's darts?”

The watchman shook his head. “No, not yet; hook up the sound waves to the Computer-Gadget and we will see if will understand what they are saying.”

            “Sir?”

 The watchman was intently scanning the desert once again. He looked over the top of the glasses. “Yes?”

“I recorded the conversation as a video. It’s rather faint because of static, but let me know what you think of it.”

The watchman adjusted the earphones and turned up the volume; this is what he made out:

“Look, everyone, I see a castle over yonder.”

“Sorry, Fiona, that’s just a mirage. There are no castles in these parts.”

 “But what if it was, just what if: then we could find rest and shelter.”

The watchman whipped off the earphones, eyes shining; “Shoot a dart, shoot one of Agape’s darts,” he cried, “aim true!”

Daniel’s hand trembled as he shot not once, not twice but three times! Others crowded around and watched in breathless suspense as the darts glistened and soared in the dry summer’s heat.

One dart hit the mark: Fiona’s breast. The watching soldiers exuberantly clapped each other on the back while Daniel snatched up the ear phones and someone else the binoculars.

 Fiona’s hand pressed against her chest. “I felt such a warmth come over me when I spoke of that castle, just now. Erik let’s try to find it. Maybe it is a true haven. It looks so beautiful as if the light diffuses from within.”

Erik picked up another dart; it still had a slight glow and was warm to the touch.

“You may be right. I also am weary of this desert land,” but he hesitated, and threw the dart down. The others had already started to walk on ahead.

            Daniel whirled to face his Captain. “May I go? May I rush over there and lead them to safety?”

            The Captain was pleased with the youthful enthusiasm. “Go, lad, but remember to use much tact and discretion. They are used to their old ways and will not be eager to change. ”

            The other young recruits leaned over the balustrade surrounding the tower and watched through their binoculars as he marched swiftly through the gathering darkness, his trusty lamp held high as he traveled.

                        “It’s dangerous out there,” Simon observed.

                         “Yes, but he is following instructions, and not going out on his own,” James reminded him.

 Simon nodded as they watched the tiny prick of light grow smaller then leap high when Daniel reached the group who now sitting on boulders and eating their lunch.

 “May the King bless his efforts,” The watchman murmured with moist eyes, while the others nodded in agreement.

While Daniel is valiantly making his way across rugged territory to find the wanderers, we will take a peek in on some unhappy campers who chose a basement suite in the glorious Castle of Light.

Ezekiel: 34: 11, 12, 16

Luke 15

Here's a glimpse of my tiny book that will soon be available at Amazon and Kindle. It's less than seven dollars, paper-copy which makes it easy to enjoy. 

What's Wrong With This?

This is my new website. Did more than one page download
properly? http://echoingheartbeats.wix.com/marylynnesbooks
How should I change it?

Fears

Never has it been so dark,
Rarely has it been so drear,
Hanging o’er my head an axe
Causing me such dreadful fears.

Eerie sounds of unknown source;
Swirling mists with lingering chill,
Self the cloak I huddle in
Feeling wretched, lost and ill.

Far away a cheery glow
Like a halo soft and bright
Beckons me to venture near
Creeping through the starless night.

The lamp of faith is offered me
Revealing then, a face so kind
Dispelling soon the fear of night
Comfort, now, in Christ I find. 

When hand in hand I walk with Him
The axe-head always disappears
I’ll gladly trust my faithful Guide:
He gives me courage, hope and cheer. 

Guess What I Found!

Guess what I found on the internet today? No it wasn't in an archeological dig way out in the Middle East somewhere, but it was still fascinating. It was a book. It looked old fashioned in a way and the pictures were kind of blurry, but the cover sure looked antique! I thought the pages would have been more yellow with a parchment-y look, but I guess they are better at preserving things that we figured, eh? Anyway, it was a book called Mary's Diary. WOW! I mean double-wow! Who could have had a more intimate relationship with Jesus, the Son of God, than His own birth mother! Who could have cared more to get the facts right and to portray His life in a as loving a way as possible? And guess what?! It even covers those hidden years of when He was a little boy in Egypt. (He must have been such a cute, sweet little fella.) .
I'm quit bugging you so you can find out for yourself. https://www.createspace.com/4837922
http://www.amazon.com/dp/1511783966

This Is For YOU To

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Chauncey Wyatt - Vice President of iPayal

11:06 AM

To: Marilyn Friesen

This is the link:

Mary's Diary Landing Page

				Online Streaming Book Radio Station Listen author interviews, book debates, hot book panel discussions and commercial book promotional trailers 24/7 through our online mobile book app. Coming soon
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This is where it take you

Mary's Diary by Marilyn Friesen

				Mary's Diary by Marilyn Friesen This fiction book is about the life of Mary and the perspective of her raising the son of God, Jesus.
				View on sellfy.com	Preview by Yahoo

Once you pay through PayPal, it will send you the download to your email you placed on the system.  

Regards,

How Worthwhile Are We?

I heard a statement that had a profound impact on me. A man from Burkina Faso made it.  

    “If a senior dies it is like a whole library has been destroyed.”

 Many of us are seniors, but are we wise? Are we compassionate and understanding?  How are we filling in the dash between our cradles and the grave? Perhaps you know I am referring to how a gravestone has the date of someone’s birth, a dash, and then the date they passed from this world.

The Bible teaches us that the older women should teach the younger, (Titus 2.4) surely we must have accumulated something worthwhile in our life experiences. Do we have the humility and kindness to help those behind us who are floundering? We all have different ways we can do it.

Are we writing books’ of value with our lives? ‘Only one life will soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.’

Let us pray for each other. 

You're Spying On Me!

I suppose a lot of you have listened  to the trailer by now and are wondering when the audio will come out. Well, if you'll stop peering over my shoulder I will let you read some of the editing I was doing this afternoon. 

This is way beyond what you have read last: Jesus is a grown man and teaching the multitudes.

About mid-morning, while we were strolling along through the sunlit countryside, I saw one youngster snatch a fold of His tefilah shawl in his hand, and shout;

“I touched him, now I am a healer, too!” How Yeshua tolerated such nonsense can only be attributed to what a kind hearted Man He is. I am sure He is

tuned to every movement around Him even while teaching.

            This was the same day that He suddenly stopped in His tracks.   Several of the pushier sorts had walked on well ahead of Him before realizing He had stayed in one place.

“Who touched Me?” His voice rang out clearly.

I saw that youngster shrink back behind someone’s skirts, but Yeshua’s

eyes were not searching him out. The talmidim were bewildered that

he would ask a question like that in such a mob,  my curiosity

was aroused.

I caught sight of a stooped little old lady about the

same time Yeshua did. She had such a dazed but radiant look on her

face, I do not think she even noticed that the throng wasn’t milling

around so much anymore. She wasn’t even aware that some folks were

staring at her while others were craning their necks to see why we had

stopped. When she saw that Yeshua wasn’t too busy to give her heed,

she flung herself down at His feet, with tears of joy she babbled her

thanksgiving.

She had been suffering from some kind of bleeding disease; an ulcer

perhaps, and sensed that the moment she had touched His garment

she was well again. Just think,to have been weakened from loss of blood for such a long time, then to feel healthy in a moment. How wonderful that must have been! She was so happy I think many of us basked in her joy, although I did hear mutterings of discontent.

“Daughter,” He said. Although I am sure she was older than I by far it

didn’t seem strange coming from Him, “Your faith made you well; go

in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

By the look on her face I knew she was thinking; all I did

was touch the fringe on His tefilah shawl! I saw rapturous adoration in her eyes

before the crowd once again closed around Him.

https://soundcloud.com/hollywoodbooktrailers/marys-diary-official-book-trailer-by-marilyn-frieson

What Are You Doing In THERE?

           

   Someone you admire seems to have the ideal personality. Let’s say she’s sweet, ladylike and oh so soft spoken. What a perfect example. So you try to imitate her. It seems like the perfect mold to build around yourself. First of all it’s time to moderate that rather loud chuckle because it won’t fit into the new image you want to create. What about that quirky sense of humor, tone it down, by all means tone it down, it borders on mischievous if not do down-right rascally: you want to be a lady, remember? And so the building continues. The mold is taking shape.

Is this the real me? Why are people so quiet and reserved, as if they don’t quite know what to expect of me? Am I a nut? Or why am I curling up inside of this nutshell? Help, help let me out! Let me grow, let me be myself!

http://www.authorsden.com/marilynffriesen

Silly White Stuff

“Isn’t it ridiculous picking up this silly white stuff day after day?”

“Shh, you had better be careful what you say. God sent it. Would you rather be eating… eating, well who knows what and dying of thirst like our forefathers practically did before Moses struck the Rock?”

“Yes,” a younger voice piped up, “And he sure got in trouble for doing that. Now he won’t be able to go into the Promised Land.”

“Promised Land,” the first one scoffed. “We’ve been wandering in this desert for nearly twenty years already. Why, you and I and everyone else our age was born after they were shut out of that so called Promised Land.” Dinah huffed as she swung a big basket over her arm. “I’m getting a weeks’ supply of that manna. I’m sick and tired of gathering it every single day just because Mama is so sickly all the time.”

“Go ahead,” her friend Lilka scoffed, “You know what Moses warned us would happen. I’ve heard rumors it has already  in some other areas of ‘tent city’.

Twenty four hours passed. Same time same station as it were, the only difference was facial expressions, mostly, and of course the conversation had changed.

Dinah looked so sullen, or was it subdued, that Lilka and Josiah didn’t dare say a word to her.  They had observed her, from a distance mind you, trying to dispose of a whole week’s supply of moldy wormy manna and trying unsuccessfully not to throw up over the whole repulsive mess.

Dinah learned her lesson, have we to? God simply does not want us to gather too many worries for example. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Some might wonder if I sit down at the beginning of every month and map out the topics I will be writing about for the next thirty days.

“ Nope, not a chance.”

“ Well, for the next week then?”

“ Uh uh.  Why bother, I want my manna (which comes from Heaven) fresh and new.” Give us our day our daily bread.  

Help! Where Have I Been?

 Help! Where have I been?? I've been feeling like my tires were

spinning in a mud hole while  the tools I needed were in my trunk all along.  So what tools you ask? 

Veronica Partridge Exposed

 I don’t know so terribly much about partridges but suspect they have a lot in common with chickens. Anyone who knows me well knows how fond I am of raising free range hens and selling the eggs. But there is something even more enjoyable than that. It is watching Mama Bird possessively brood over a nest of eggs and patiently wait, with barely any food or water, for those little guys to be mature enough to peck their way out of the shells. Her nurturing instinct doesn’t end there, however, and I love to see how she calls her little brood over to share some food she has discovered. I love even more how they nestle under her wings yet peek out, out of curiosity at the friendly world around them. I have an amusing memory of one ‘teenage’ chick

So This Is Me

I live and breathe writing, but not just any kind. Penetrating the darkness seems to be a pet theme, or phrase with me. This world is so full of shadows that come in many different shapes and forms. You know what the chains that want to tighten you are, whether they are poverty, fear, pain, heartache in its many kinds, or something else. I have given my life to bringing a ray of light into this dark and hurting world.

Another thought I like is this description of a glowing candle.  It is warm and beckoning with just enough of a glow to be deeply appreciated, but not so much that you feel unhappy with the glare or the heat.

Come in and help yourself to a candle and together let us seek the Light of the World, who is Jesus.

Lovingly, Marilyn

P.S. I’m not a very conspicuous person: auburn haired, round faced, smiley with gentle eyes and what you might call an old fashioned grandmotherly look.  Because we like people so much we have a bed and breakfast. If you want to visit us you can find it under the listings for air bnb (bed and breakfast) Alberta.

Are You At Peace With Yourself?