<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:47:24.107-05:00</updated><title type='text'>onlysometimes</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughts. That's it. Nothing profound. Just thoughts.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>92</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-7133100597164628783</id><published>2011-09-03T14:14:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T14:43:20.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In these arms...</title><content type='html'>I find relationships something that can grow or stunt an individual. This song is written by &lt;a href="http://www.irishcentral.com/ent/Falling-slowly-in-and-out-of-love-120960599.html"&gt;The Swell Season&lt;/a&gt;, two people who ended a their relationship and continued to make music. So enjoy the video. Then, read the extended quote on "second innocence". This is from website of Marketa Irglova (the female vocalist) to announce her marriage to another man. A fascinating pair...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/VLzmBjKUdJ8?rel=0" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="275" width="450"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I believe there is a thing called a second innocence. The first comes  with naivety, which we loose as we progress from childhood into  adulthood. The second comes later in life when an amount of wisdom is  attained. When one has seen both the kind and the cruel faces of life  and yet chooses to remain positive and focused on the light. I think the  same is true in matters of the heart. When it is broken for the first  time, it hurts the most, for we have let our loved one into the very  core of ourselves and our hearts for the lack of knowledge of pain. We  allow them to enter without trying to protect ourselves for we are so  trusting in our innocence. Once we learn of heartache we loose that  innocence, we put up shields and build fences around our hearts. The  love that comes after does not have it as easy as the first. It takes us  time learning to trust it, for even the emotional body has memory. We  let it in but only so far at a time. Until we eventually leave ourselves  open and vulnerable once again. We merge with our soulmate and become  one. It is then the yearning for the sacred communion of marriage comes,  for it is merely an outward expression of what is already true inside."  -Marketa Irglova&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-7133100597164628783?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/7133100597164628783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=7133100597164628783' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/7133100597164628783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/7133100597164628783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2011/09/in-these-arms.html' title='In these arms...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/VLzmBjKUdJ8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-1010856184034979836</id><published>2011-08-20T17:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T22:04:59.573-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Clouds this week: Painted Skies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oo7O0iHcA4w/TlBnkiaEu6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/qDpC68zF7As/s1600/photo-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oo7O0iHcA4w/TlBnkiaEu6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/qDpC68zF7As/s200/photo-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643124210504350626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T8aaCrqjzto/TlBlv_8slZI/AAAAAAAAADk/LxrvVuY3cj0/s1600/photo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T8aaCrqjzto/TlBlv_8slZI/AAAAAAAAADk/LxrvVuY3cj0/s200/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643122208389502354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8W1cOxv2y-g/TlBlvsdEslI/AAAAAAAAADc/hKMsybJaAUA/s1600/photo-2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8W1cOxv2y-g/TlBlvsdEslI/AAAAAAAAADc/hKMsybJaAUA/s200/photo-2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643122203156591186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-1010856184034979836?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/1010856184034979836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=1010856184034979836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/1010856184034979836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/1010856184034979836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2011/08/clouds-this-week-painted-skies.html' title='Clouds this week: Painted Skies'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oo7O0iHcA4w/TlBnkiaEu6I/AAAAAAAAAD0/qDpC68zF7As/s72-c/photo-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-447022376966913774</id><published>2010-12-02T13:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T13:15:47.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of every longing heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 255); "&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; white-space: normal; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Come thou long-expected Jesus, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Born to set Thy people free; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;From our fears and sins release us, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Let us find our rest in Thee. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Israel's strength and consolation, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Hope of all the earth Thou art; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Dear Desire of every nation, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Joy of every longing heart. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-447022376966913774?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/447022376966913774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=447022376966913774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/447022376966913774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/447022376966913774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2010/12/of-every-longing-heart.html' title='Of every longing heart'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-356508136837832080</id><published>2010-09-22T11:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T13:07:53.451-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts on Distraction... Confessions from a guy with (unofficial) ADD</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I don't dump videos on people... and I don't know how many people actually still stop by occasionally, but I had to vent on something. Story time:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our youth group has a yearly kick-off scavenger hunt. This year, we went to a local mall and were about to get on with winning (my group anyway) when the mall 5.0 stopped another group that was noticeably not shopping. Bummer... the hunt gets "shut down." But we have a least an hour before we run out of time. So.... I get creative and fills some time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am leading a group of three high school guys. So what do guys like? Food. What haven't we had? Dinner. Hmm...  Problem: No more hunt. Solution: Five Guys. I take my group of guys to get burgers in the food court.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are sitting eating our burgers in the food court and we talked, but the guys were eventually staring at the ceiling. (Well, not just the ceiling.... thankfully. Maybe.) They were looking at these pairs of 42 inch TV's hanging around the food court (at least 8 pairs... I could describe it more, but I will let them tell you who they are). While I would love to embed the video, I will just let you follow the link to get the full multimedia impression. Then come back.... really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.akoo.com/Akoo_mini/experience_AV_Immersion_Mini.html"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Distractions from the Sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Akoo is so advanced it monitors ambient crowd noise to adjust volume for "maximum impact." Is it just me, or is this a nice way of saying, "We are going to intrude into your conversation to hold your attention." I mean, that is what it does, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One by one the guys slowly were fixated on the glowing distractions hanging from the ceilings like bugs to a zapper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a hard enough time staying focused on conversations and meaningfully interacting with people normally. Now throw a bunch of people around me with lots of colorful bags, clothes and their conversations competing for my attention. Throw in some music, and I am in trouble. A TV and the conversation might be headed to cardiac arrest. Now have the TV's paired with different programing on each, with music that is designed to turn up and down (depending on how much you are trying to drown it out and be a decent friend/acquaintance/human being), and it is clear that there is a conspiracy afoot. Well, that would imply something hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say they are designed for "maximum impact."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More like maximum distraction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this conspiracy is nothing new. I struggled (struggle) with not letting my iPhone dictate lulls in conversation. But it goes to something deeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Hebrews the writer seems to be speaking to a people that has become distracted. Some words stick out to me. "Therefore we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it" (2:1). "But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called 'today,' that none of you be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin" (3:13). "About this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing [...] But solid food it for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil" (5:11, 14). I really can go on, but these are enough examples from Hebrews.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not calling Akoo evil. Maybe. I am definitely not saying that Akoo was what the author had in mind with the original audience/context. I am saying the TVs designed to distract me and the guys were distracting us, at times quite literally, from solid food. I mean, who wants to NOT enjoy Five Guys? In the end, those TV's are designed to stir up desires. Desires to text in songs. Desires to judge the artists and their messages (well maybe not that). Desires to obtain new stuff. And in the process I am missing out on the goodness of a REAL meal and the goodness of three REAL guys God placed right in front of me. If I am not careful, I could be left alone staring at a screen. A room full of people with no meaningful contact... staring at screens. Does anything sound like the deceitfulness of sin here? (Isaiah 55 anyone?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cool thing about Hebrews is that the author constantly reminds the people where to place their attention: "Therefore since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses [NOT TVs], let us also lay aside every weight, and the sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race set out before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith..."(12:1-2a ESV). The NIV says, "let us fix our eyes on Jesus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want real food. Not empty distractions that always stir up idle desires  and never satisfy. I can and do enjoy music and laughing at videos, but  this is just a caution. It is easy to let phones and TVs run  conversations instead of people (how odd is it to have typed that?). Consider this me exhorting you "while it is still called 'today'" to fix your eyes on Jesus, enjoy your burgers, and interact with the people God has placed in your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, I don't want a tease. I want the real thing. Real food. Real people. Real satisfaction. Real relationship with Jesus. I don't want programed distractions. I am bad enough on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anywho, excuse me, I need to text in my favorite video...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(just kidding)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-356508136837832080?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/356508136837832080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=356508136837832080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/356508136837832080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/356508136837832080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2010/09/thoughts-on-distraction-confessions.html' title='Thoughts on Distraction... Confessions from a guy with (unofficial) ADD'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-5426928133737382148</id><published>2009-12-10T23:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T23:08:54.997-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHFufCMyxI/AAAAAAAAACM/PfYU1QipLWo/s1600-h/IMG_0080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHFufCMyxI/AAAAAAAAACM/PfYU1QipLWo/s320/IMG_0080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413825629471427346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-5426928133737382148?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/5426928133737382148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=5426928133737382148' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/5426928133737382148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/5426928133737382148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post_5564.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHFufCMyxI/AAAAAAAAACM/PfYU1QipLWo/s72-c/IMG_0080.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-227741371116028850</id><published>2009-12-10T23:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T23:05:07.757-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHE6ur_UWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/__jay90z8CA/s1600-h/IMG_0104.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHE6ur_UWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/__jay90z8CA/s320/IMG_0104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413824740320039266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-227741371116028850?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/227741371116028850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=227741371116028850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/227741371116028850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/227741371116028850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post_10.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHE6ur_UWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/__jay90z8CA/s72-c/IMG_0104.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-2625389396203930215</id><published>2009-12-10T22:57:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T23:02:49.234-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHDmjngcAI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Q0c8rl2URfI/s1600-h/IMG_0066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHDmjngcAI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Q0c8rl2URfI/s320/IMG_0066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413823294239436802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-2625389396203930215?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/2625389396203930215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=2625389396203930215' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2625389396203930215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2625389396203930215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SyHDmjngcAI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Q0c8rl2URfI/s72-c/IMG_0066.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-9170248550002110938</id><published>2009-11-19T20:38:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T20:55:43.754-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blocks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SwX2hhA3vAI/AAAAAAAAABo/5jkKcXHXyHg/s1600/IMG_0021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SwX2hhA3vAI/AAAAAAAAABo/5jkKcXHXyHg/s320/IMG_0021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405997983386287106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Sometimes doesn't it feel like that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-9170248550002110938?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/9170248550002110938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=9170248550002110938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/9170248550002110938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/9170248550002110938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/11/blocks.html' title='Blocks.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_OQSRj8zvNmk/SwX2hhA3vAI/AAAAAAAAABo/5jkKcXHXyHg/s72-c/IMG_0021.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-5821262154951416833</id><published>2009-10-26T13:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-26T13:26:48.512-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>“ I am a child of unbelief and doubt even now and (as I well know) I shall be to the grave. What fearful suffering this desire to believe has caused me and still causes me as it increases in strength in my soul as the contrary proofs multiply! However, God sends me at times many minutes during which I am entirely at peace… and during such minutes I have composed for myself a confession of faith… this is it: to believe that there is nothing more beautiful, more profound, more sympathetic, more reasonable, more manly and perfect than Christ, and not only nothing like Him exists but I say with jealous love, that it even cannot exist. And even more: If someone were to prove to me that Christ is not the truth, I would rather remain with Christ than with the truth.”&lt;br /&gt; -Dostoevsky letter to the woman who gave him a NT on the way to prison in Siberia. (Overman,127)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard this quote first from a dear Russian friend of mine. He said that I needed to understand that he was a child of his generation and that this rang true for him. As we read in the pages of the Fabric of Faithfulness about a faithful, unified worldview that stands the test of time, a bit of sadness rose up in me. Maybe more a longing. I would love to cast judgment on many of the characters. The more I tried the more frustrated I became. While I can see some in our program have a solid fairly unified worldview that will take them far, I have seen mine shaken when I least wanted it to be and when I most needed a solid one. &lt;br /&gt;Much of my time might be spent subconsciously avoiding such truths. I have been tired staring into the darkness of my desires and the consequences of their fruition. Suffice it to say that in many ways my heart has been jaded. I have longed for the breath of fresh air. A good man is truly hard to find. &lt;br /&gt;And I guess that is some of the ridiculousness, in the actual “worthy of ridicule” way, of this train of thought. It ends up and a Cartesian mess. I become the universe and the universe is me. When I fail, then it falls a part. Right to do all, egoism that fails or mechanical propositions that lead one to deny them to be fully human become more reality than Russian novels. &lt;br /&gt;Remember your creator… it sticks out solidly, “It is not too late for your salvation, but too late to serve as the presence of God in the midst of His creation.” I have lived in a world of self-imposed perfection, partially due to lack of correction, but mainly due to fear. As a child of my generation, I find Christ almost too good to be true, but a life without too empty for the embrace of the alternative.&lt;br /&gt;This is where Christ is so necessary and I am so desperate. This is where I desire to experience the reality, but not the pain, of death so that I may be hidden with Christ in God. To be alive with His eyes to see the suffering around me, but to have the salve of His Salvation and Grace to ease and comfort. For miracles and healings and hope to be seen so that this doubt can be banished finally. Because too often and of late it is the question: why? Why do I do what I don’t want to do and that which I do I don’t? Truly what can save me from this fragmentation as the kid good enough to be passed by without aid and not bad enough to require repair? What can be my portion and render the broken new? Thanks be to Jesus Christ our Lord. &lt;br /&gt;Yes, things that are complex will become simple and the simple complex as time passes and the diapers come off. Yet, if there is a jealous love that remains, then the integrity of that solid frame can survive. And if He makes all things new, then into grace I can fall. These thoughts are really slightly embarrassing as the though naked I am exposed as who I am before you. Our view of man is something that I have had to rethink. I was such an optimist. Maybe functionally a closet humanist. Now I am left with the deflation and rest of fallen people in a fallen world in need of a Savior now and evermore. So here’s to Russians, their long winters, and their even longer books. And here’s to the rest of a coherent worldview and the frustration of realizing places I haven’t functionally had one and the growth that comes from it from the hand of the One who can restore the years the locust have eaten.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-5821262154951416833?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/5821262154951416833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=5821262154951416833' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/5821262154951416833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/5821262154951416833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-am-child-of-unbelief-and-doubt-even.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-1480633969362965791</id><published>2009-09-23T22:59:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T14:18:46.169-04:00</updated><title type='text'>doors closing... please stand back</title><content type='html'>Steel cages&lt;br /&gt;faces that flash to fade &lt;br /&gt;Bodies that strain to evade&lt;br /&gt;So close acting far away&lt;br /&gt;better recant any semblance or way for...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C&lt;br /&gt;o&lt;br /&gt;n&lt;br /&gt;t&lt;br /&gt;a&lt;br /&gt;c&lt;br /&gt;t&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;ignore basic interactions&lt;br /&gt;the very substance of reactions too perfectly natural&lt;br /&gt;Too perfectly mechanical&lt;br /&gt;Too perfectly contrived to believe it as anything other then what it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suppress and push back the instinct&lt;br /&gt;Hide behind word and glaze over it with notes&lt;br /&gt;Beauty to stay &lt;br /&gt;hidden behind cold grim faces &lt;br /&gt;Acknowledgment denied to hold a space in&lt;br /&gt;Steel cages&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because sunlight is only a stop away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-1480633969362965791?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/1480633969362965791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=1480633969362965791' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/1480633969362965791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/1480633969362965791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/09/doors-closing-please-stand-back.html' title='doors closing... please stand back'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-1614904263007992815</id><published>2009-07-28T23:40:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T09:24:05.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stages of a moon...</title><content type='html'>When it doesn't hurt anymore.&lt;br /&gt;That is what was said.&lt;br /&gt;That is when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pixels of truth&lt;br /&gt;curiosity waxes into &lt;br /&gt;dissatisfaction which wanes into sadness...&lt;br /&gt;Find rest O my soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seek it! &lt;br /&gt;Why the urge to drink from tepid pools &lt;br /&gt;that rise and fall and poison like mercury?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the truth hits home... it's what I always knew.&lt;br /&gt;Words that denied Fact&lt;br /&gt;that proved lies&lt;br /&gt;told and almost believed&lt;br /&gt;almost&lt;br /&gt;but for Truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why drink? &lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find rest my soul in God alone.&lt;br /&gt;A command&lt;br /&gt;A telling&lt;br /&gt;a refusing to listen to a lie which will never curb that longing&lt;br /&gt;"Wait for the Lord;&lt;br /&gt; Be strong and take heart&lt;br /&gt; and wait on the Lord."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praise the Lord&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A command against unwilling&lt;br /&gt;A do to bind a won't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For He knows that we are but dust... &lt;br /&gt;Dust with unveiled faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It burns, that light, but where else?&lt;br /&gt;"To whom shall we go? &lt;br /&gt;You have the words of eternal life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"For God alone my soul waits in silence;&lt;br /&gt;from him comes my salvation"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-1614904263007992815?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/1614904263007992815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=1614904263007992815' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/1614904263007992815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/1614904263007992815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/07/stages-of-moon.html' title='Stages of a moon...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-8394880833335183336</id><published>2009-06-15T11:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T09:28:14.914-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>To choose to hang on to the good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such a fight. A challenge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I choose it these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told a friend of how I asked last night. All I could do was laugh and smile about it. So much affection. Sure there is pain, but it wasn't present then. The Lord has a way of rescuing me from my memories. I turn in on myself pretty easily. I get lost. I lose grip and let it slip away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mourned with another friend last night as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It brought up pain this morning. The delayed realization and re-exploration of a wound. Test it. Probe it. Feel the scar. The nerves have memory and respond as they should although they were severed. Oh the beauty of reconciliation! Oh the pain when what I desire in that has less and more to do with me than I would wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sin is ever before me... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I close my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is something that must overshadow it, or despair will call me back into its hold and slide my joy into the pit. I will fall back into a garden after an act that severed so much. Separated from source. From good. From Origin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So beautifully deceptive. Elegantly crafted repackaging of the same old questions: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you really trust that? Are you sure that is actually true?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is such a humbling task to remember. To remember the good. To remember my culpability. To remember the resulting despair. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, to remember a Savior and His work. Remember...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FIX YOUR EYES. "Get over yourself and actually live for others." That must be the reoccurring cry. Live in His freedom. My actions don't save, but His did and I must react to them. I must react and remember...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-8394880833335183336?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/8394880833335183336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=8394880833335183336' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/8394880833335183336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/8394880833335183336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/06/to-choose-to-hang-on-to-good.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-537531978344757059</id><published>2009-05-22T19:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T19:37:05.537-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"And there's a memory of a window&lt;br /&gt;Looking through, I see you&lt;br /&gt;Searching for something that I could never give you&lt;br /&gt;And there's someone who understands you, more than I do&lt;br /&gt;A sadness I can't erase&lt;br /&gt;All alone on your face."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-537531978344757059?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/537531978344757059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=537531978344757059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/537531978344757059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/537531978344757059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/05/and-theres-memory-of-window-looking.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-6117235602601171583</id><published>2009-05-09T21:09:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-09T21:22:15.383-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally...</title><content type='html'>I told them all today. Finally. It is real. Not a dream. It will be hard. So much change. So much new. And I have so much to finish. But things worth it have a price. A sacrifice. And with it comes the glory of new freedoms. And restraints. And stretching in ways I'll never have seen before I jumped in. But that's life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-6117235602601171583?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/6117235602601171583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=6117235602601171583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/6117235602601171583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/6117235602601171583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/05/finally.html' title='Finally...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-116399566046535164</id><published>2009-03-23T13:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T13:52:01.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bricks...</title><content type='html'>I got hit with a brick. Literally. My boss, who is like a brother to me, well, we were on a fun run (jumping on rocks through creeks, climbing walls, running on/over downed trees on our property) and we toss rocks/logs  back and forth to work our upper body at the same time. Really, it is "grown-up" play-time while getting a hard cardio workout at the same time. Kids have it right. Get out in the woods and run hard and laugh hard. For us it generally involves a lot of laughing and is humorous to watch other people. I had a particularly hard time jumping a wall/sign.  Well, Dailey, which is his name, tossed a brick, because that is what we were tossing at the time, to me, at the same moment that I stumbled over a rock. I caught the brick, but not quite soon enough. It had enough momentum to hit me in the teeth as well. Kinda funny huh?  I will say, that I stopped for a minute, spit out the tiny chips of enamel and finished the run. Gotta man up, you know? Can't let a brick stop you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusion: Apparently, I can't play dodge ball, because I can't dodge a brick. "If you can't dodge a brick, you can't dodge a ball."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-116399566046535164?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/116399566046535164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=116399566046535164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116399566046535164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116399566046535164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/03/bricks.html' title='Bricks...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-4618362963450174198</id><published>2009-03-04T08:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T08:21:02.029-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Greg Laswell</title><content type='html'>Who would've ever known it could be this easy&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I was a long, long way off&lt;br /&gt;And just like that it's over&lt;br /&gt;Everything that I knew of love&lt;br /&gt;I was a long, long way off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think I like how the day sounds&lt;br /&gt;Like how the day sounds through this new song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for opening the window&lt;br /&gt;The sky is clear as my mind is now&lt;br /&gt;I was a long, long way off&lt;br /&gt;Join me in welcoming the sun in&lt;br /&gt;It's much brighter than the night I hid in&lt;br /&gt;I was a long, long way off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think I like how the day sounds&lt;br /&gt;Like how the day sounds through this new song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a long way down&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's well worth the time that it's taken to get here now&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's well worth the time that it's taken to get here now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go ahead and bang a gong&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can drown out the sound of the whisper of my love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think I like how the day sounds through this new song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the lines have all been drawn&lt;br /&gt;I know where I belong, where I belong&lt;br /&gt;Oh, won't you sing along?&lt;br /&gt;Oh my love, won't you sing along?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-4618362963450174198?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/4618362963450174198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=4618362963450174198' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4618362963450174198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4618362963450174198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/03/greg-laswell.html' title='Greg Laswell'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-2588733139817895519</id><published>2009-03-03T11:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T08:19:19.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A quote to think about...</title><content type='html'>"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny when I allow passion for life/God be stollen from me, as though it is someone else's doing. Now I am begining to feel again and be purposeful about it. Try things I never had, and more forward in passion...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thought:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that If a perfect God forgives me for what I can't seem to forgive myself, who am I not to live in His forgiveness? To hang on would mean that I downplay the character (specifically: Righteousness, Holiness, Justice, Mercy...  well, the list goes on) of God and then claim my past as more important than what is immediately before me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BE HERE NOW.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-2588733139817895519?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/2588733139817895519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=2588733139817895519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2588733139817895519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2588733139817895519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/03/quote-to-think-about.html' title='A quote to think about...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-4370888575310000017</id><published>2009-01-11T11:26:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T14:19:48.418-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The End... Is a process.</title><content type='html'>I am now at the place where I desire the best&lt;br /&gt;And for her to have a future &lt;br /&gt;I wasn't there for a long time &lt;br /&gt;And I won't be there to come...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So when God casts us down, we must be content to lie til God bids us to stand up, and God's Spirit enters us to enable us to stand up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J. Burroughs "The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-4370888575310000017?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/4370888575310000017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=4370888575310000017' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4370888575310000017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4370888575310000017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2009/01/end-is-process.html' title='The End... Is a process.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-4665756792261093264</id><published>2008-09-17T16:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T17:30:33.661-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>...named Ephraim and said, "It is because God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-4665756792261093264?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/4665756792261093264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=4665756792261093264' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4665756792261093264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4665756792261093264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-4502779001268964859</id><published>2008-09-12T08:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T09:10:08.505-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In this world of news, I've found nothing new&lt;br /&gt;I've found nothing pure&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just idealistic to assume that truth&lt;br /&gt;Could be fact and form&lt;br /&gt;That love could be a verb&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm just a little misinformed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the dead moon rises, and the freeways sigh&lt;br /&gt;Let the trains watch over the tides and the mist&lt;br /&gt;Spinning circles in our skies tonight&lt;br /&gt;Let the trucks roll in from Los Angeles&lt;br /&gt;Maybe our stars are unanimously tired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let your love be strong, and I don't care what goes down&lt;br /&gt;Let your love be strong enough to weather through the thunder cloud&lt;br /&gt;Fury and thunder clap like stealing the fire from your eyes&lt;br /&gt;All of my world hanging on your love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the wars begin, let my strength wear thin&lt;br /&gt;Let my fingers crack, let my world fall apart&lt;br /&gt;Train the monkeys on my back to fight&lt;br /&gt;Let it start tonight&lt;br /&gt;When my world explodes, when my stars touch the ground&lt;br /&gt;Falling down like broken satellites&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let your love be strong, and I don't care what goes down&lt;br /&gt;Let your love be strong enough to weather through the thunder cloud&lt;br /&gt;Fury and thunder clap like stealing the fire from your skies&lt;br /&gt;All that i am hanging on, all of my world resting on your love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-jon foreman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 121&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—&lt;br /&gt;       where does my help come from? &lt;br /&gt; 2 My help comes from the LORD, &lt;br /&gt;       the Maker of heaven and earth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 3 He will not let your foot slip— &lt;br /&gt;       he who watches over you will not slumber; &lt;br /&gt; 4 indeed, he who watches over Israel &lt;br /&gt;       will neither slumber nor sleep. &lt;br /&gt; 5 The LORD watches over you— &lt;br /&gt;       the LORD is your shade at your right hand; &lt;br /&gt; 6 the sun will not harm you by day, &lt;br /&gt;       nor the moon by night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 7 The LORD will keep you from all harm— &lt;br /&gt;       he will watch over your life; &lt;br /&gt; 8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going &lt;br /&gt;       both now and forevermore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-4502779001268964859?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/4502779001268964859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=4502779001268964859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4502779001268964859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/4502779001268964859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-this-world-of-news-ive-found-nothing.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-3386357721986614935</id><published>2008-09-04T16:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T16:17:25.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes I am left just begging to touch the edge of His cloak.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-3386357721986614935?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/3386357721986614935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=3386357721986614935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/3386357721986614935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/3386357721986614935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2008/09/sometimes-i-am-left-just-begging-to.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-7851301482231522012</id><published>2008-08-16T00:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T00:20:07.402-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It arrives</title><content type='html'>Come thou long expected number&lt;br /&gt;a date &lt;br /&gt;a life to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it arrives&lt;br /&gt;and drives home the realization&lt;br /&gt;my time has not yet come&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;two hearts cleaved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do&lt;br /&gt;not see the expected number&lt;br /&gt;one&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;drift into a new morning&lt;br /&gt;slip into a new dream&lt;br /&gt;a future &lt;br /&gt;tethered no longer&lt;br /&gt;bound to You&lt;br /&gt;Free and clearly looking for the next step...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a breeze to clear the fog would set my heart at rest, Father.&lt;br /&gt;At rest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-7851301482231522012?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/7851301482231522012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=7851301482231522012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/7851301482231522012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/7851301482231522012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2008/08/it-arrives.html' title='It arrives'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-2380421857933757864</id><published>2008-08-15T00:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T00:20:37.746-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ampersand</title><content type='html'>dates and symbols &lt;br /&gt;special days used to evade &lt;br /&gt;and now  &lt;br /&gt;still&lt;br /&gt;stoic &lt;br /&gt;monuments&lt;br /&gt;another twenty-four hours &lt;br /&gt;a mockery a moment and a dream&lt;br /&gt;An ampersand &lt;br /&gt;stands &lt;br /&gt;alone&lt;br /&gt;Without a purpose&lt;br /&gt;Without the pair to link&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And kayaking was wonderful. I know. I can't leave it on a downer. I found a new hobby and am fairly decent at it. Farewell paycheck... It has been the first really joy-filled hours in which I have lost myself, pushed myself, and ironically not thought about myself in a couple months. Thank God for water and plastic and friends to enjoy them with and helmets. Geez Heather....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Now I want you to know, brothers, what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel.' And to that cling. He redeems our mess and brings us to Himself. Hope. Hope. Hope. "Lord, please take me to the place where our dreams are set in stone."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-2380421857933757864?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/2380421857933757864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=2380421857933757864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2380421857933757864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2380421857933757864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2008/08/ampersand.html' title='Ampersand'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-2250313518143947783</id><published>2007-05-24T22:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T22:24:22.798-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I guess I will resurrect this beast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New life. So here it is. I have stepped into a position that I never expected to hold. I had dinner tonight with my fellow laborers tonight. A wild turkey we cooks and I made the short walk from my room in the hotel to the house we were eating at.  In that home pictures tied to memories in my youth stared back at me. It has always been a sadness of sorts knowing certain things will not be and that I have had to fully surrender them. Yet I fight to hold onto what I cannot and what (at this point) can never be (notice how I even now place a caveat to the statement of an absolute). If only it was known why I let it go... &lt;br /&gt;While my thoughts lept there, you must understand that I do not live in those. It is no life at all to be stuck in a past or a future that migh be. We are made to live inbetween. The present. Certainly we must learn our lessons from the past (but we are to forget some of things because He is going to do a new work). Hope for the future (but not place our trust in it}. But above all our eyes should be focused in the person of Christ and through Him the task at hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an amazing night of fun, food and true fellowship. While I momentarily wished for a natural addition to our number, I left tonight feeling so truly blessed and I know that this place is home. These are the people I will live with and work for and while it is so very new, I have the peace of knowing that it is home and where I am supposed to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-2250313518143947783?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/2250313518143947783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=2250313518143947783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2250313518143947783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/2250313518143947783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-guess-i-will-resurrect-this-beast.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-116399835957175906</id><published>2006-11-19T23:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-19T23:52:41.800-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>" Those who cling to worthless idols for forfeit the grace that could be theirs."&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                Jonah 2:8&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-116399835957175906?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/116399835957175906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=116399835957175906' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116399835957175906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116399835957175906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/11/those-who-cling-to-worthless-idols-for.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-116156831005715798</id><published>2006-10-22T21:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-22T23:31:03.833-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something new and odd....</title><content type='html'>So I let a friend in. Just opened some locked, barred and isolated doors to my past. Ironically, I have never felt more alone than I did today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams have become  seeming illusions and faded  unexpectedly.&lt;br /&gt;All evaporates, yet one thing remains.&lt;br /&gt;For that one thing I am overwhelmed and thankful...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-116156831005715798?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/116156831005715798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=116156831005715798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116156831005715798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116156831005715798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/10/something-new-and-odd.html' title='Something new and odd....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-116114112178040442</id><published>2006-10-17T23:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T23:12:01.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Price of the Vision</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;center&gt;"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord . . ."&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; —&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah+6"&gt;Isaiah 6:1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Our soul’s personal history with God is often an account of the death of our heroes. Over and over again God has to remove our friends to put Himself in their place, and that is when we falter, fail, and become discouraged. Let me think about this personally— when the person died who represented for me all that God was, did I give up on everything in life? Did I become ill or disheartened? Or did I do as Isaiah did and see the Lord? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; My vision of God is dependent upon the condition of my character. My character determines whether or not truth can even be revealed to me. Before I can say, "I saw the Lord," there must be something in my character that conforms to the likeness of God. Until I am born again and really begin to see the kingdom of God, I only see from the perspective of my own biases. What I need is God’s surgical procedure— His use of external circumstances to bring about internal purification. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; Your priorities must be God first, God second, and God third, until your life is continually face to face with God and no one else is taken into account whatsoever. Your prayer will then be, "In all the world there is no one but You, dear God; there is no one but You." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt; Keep paying the price. Let God see that you are willing to live up to the vision."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sometimes I just long to tell the people I am closest to what is going on. But they are gone in one way or another. It is a call to Christ for me and I am not the most excited about how lonely the call can be, but I must surrender to that call. Even those I care for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-116114112178040442?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/116114112178040442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=116114112178040442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116114112178040442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116114112178040442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/10/price-of-vision.html' title='The Price of the Vision'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-116014279721167020</id><published>2006-10-06T09:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T09:53:17.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"We go to the best photographer to hide all the scars..."&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking about what makes my life different right now. I believe my scars don't have to be hidden now. I have played that game. I think I am fairly done with it. That doesn't mean that I tell everyone every scar, but that I know my wounds have been healed and that these scars are markers and reminders of the faithfulness of God.&lt;br /&gt;Hosea has been a convicting read for me.&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, my "loyalty [has been] like a morning cloud and like the dew which goes away early." My desire is to return. Not to make other gods...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-116014279721167020?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/116014279721167020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=116014279721167020' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116014279721167020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/116014279721167020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/10/we-go-to-best-photographer-to-hide-all.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115914433266577324</id><published>2006-09-24T20:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-24T20:32:12.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So, overwhelmed seems to be the word of choice for me right now.  Yet, I know God has a purpose for all of the things that are being brought into and taken out of my life. I find it increasingly hard to keep my gaze Christ-ward when I focus on all the deadlines and inadequecies that I have in my life. "Set your eyes on things above..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" Anyone can carry his burden, however heavy, until nightfall.&lt;br /&gt;   Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day.&lt;br /&gt;   Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely til the sun goes down.&lt;br /&gt;   And that is all that life really is."&lt;br /&gt;                        _ R.L. Stevenson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks be to God that I can be "anyone"... His Child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115914433266577324?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115914433266577324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115914433266577324' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115914433266577324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115914433266577324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/09/so-overwhelmed-seems-to-be-word-of.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115775768380622094</id><published>2006-09-08T19:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T19:21:23.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I want a Broken Heart....</title><content type='html'>I’ve got faith in the bank and money in my heart&lt;br /&gt;i’ve got a calloused place where your ring used to be, my love &lt;br /&gt;i’ve traded naked and unashamed &lt;br /&gt;for a better place to hide&lt;br /&gt;for a righteous mask, a suit of fig leaves and lies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i thought the cattle on a thousand hills&lt;br /&gt;was not enough to pay my bills&lt;br /&gt;and i fell in love with those who proved me wrong&lt;br /&gt;and now i want a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now there’s a great pad lock &lt;br /&gt;on the place where i was free&lt;br /&gt;and i’m feeling bad from swallowing that key&lt;br /&gt;now i work real hard but i mostly call in sick&lt;br /&gt;of a broken back from the ground fighting back at me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i cannot look you in the eye&lt;br /&gt;so i check the knots on my disguise&lt;br /&gt;‘cause i fell in love with fashion in the dark&lt;br /&gt;and now i want a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i’ve got alibis for every crime&lt;br /&gt;a substitute to do my time&lt;br /&gt;‘cause Your heart breaks enough on both our parts&lt;br /&gt;so now i want a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;now i want a broken heart&lt;br /&gt;-Derek Webb&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115775768380622094?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115775768380622094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115775768380622094' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115775768380622094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115775768380622094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-want-broken-heart.html' title='I want a Broken Heart....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115765066922093229</id><published>2006-09-07T13:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-07T13:37:49.230-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmm...</title><content type='html'>The Joy of the Lord is my strength. Have you ever stopped to think about that?  The past two day, well, they were not so good. But last night, and today, I cried out so hard. I prayed so hard about God's work at Asbury and in my life, and while I felt so horribly sick and tired, the love and Joy of the Lord overwhelmed me. Even though I feel pretty crappy, customers at work commented on my smile and "happiness" and one of the pastors that has come in knew my name well before I thought he should (first day). I wanted to tell those people it is the joy of the Lord, and if I am asked again, I think that will be my answer. I could list all of the things that are off in my life...things that could be better, but they don't really seem to matter. I know it is God. It is not me. I am amazed. The joy of the Lord is my strength....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115765066922093229?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115765066922093229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115765066922093229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115765066922093229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115765066922093229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/09/hmm.html' title='Hmm...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115738096278069034</id><published>2006-09-04T10:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T10:42:42.780-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy...</title><content type='html'>"Yes, it does make a difference where a man finds joy."&lt;br /&gt;                                     St. Augustine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115738096278069034?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115738096278069034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115738096278069034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115738096278069034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115738096278069034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/09/joy.html' title='Joy...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115731889328812534</id><published>2006-09-03T17:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-03T20:13:20.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is a "Good Confession"?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A defense I have often used has been something along the lines of, "I am preaching the Gospel and only using words when necessary." I have been a covert Christian and hidden behind that in comfort. While reading, the idea of a confession of faith was clarified to me. When we think about our current system of baptism and spirituality in general, the &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placename&gt;American&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype&gt;Church&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; seems to fall short. In &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Rome&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, a confession of faith was a quite public thing. Religion has fallen in the realm of the private here, but then, a confession was a public confirmation and spoken declaration of ones belief in Jesus as the Christ. The Apostles Creed is the most notable example of such a proclamation:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth:&lt;br /&gt;And in Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, our Lord:&lt;br /&gt;Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary:&lt;br /&gt;Suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, dead and buried: He descended into hell:&lt;br /&gt;The third day he rose again from the dead:&lt;br /&gt;He ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty:&lt;br /&gt;From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead:&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the Holy Ghost:&lt;br /&gt;I believe in the holy catholic church: the communion of saints:&lt;br /&gt;The forgiveness of sins:&lt;br /&gt;The resurrection of the body (or flesh):&lt;br /&gt;And the life everlasting. Amen. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Such a proclamation creates an open identification of the believer with the life, death, resurrection, and sufferings of Christ. I think of my baptism and know that I was baptized in basically a private setting: a pond with close Christian friends. While that is part of the purpose, I wonder if I somehow missed what is at the heart of the issues. Most Christians in the Roman context incurred immediate persecution and I went along with my daily life unchanged. Perceptions unaltered. Hidden and sadly unchanged. My "good and beautiful confession" has been tempered by fear of public opinion and fallen into the shadows. And as such, the confession of those in countries in which persecution is a way of life makes their confession all that much more of a confession. Mine has only been a footnote to my life... and for that I feel some shame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not bashing American Christians by any means. I am just raising the question: Why do I treat my salvation as a footnote to myself when I introduce myself? Why do I apologize to those around me and make allowances such as "I know you might not understand...", "it may seem weird to you...", or "I know this may be uncomfortable, but..."? It leads me to beg for forgiveness from my fear of those around me when my family prays in public. My reluctance to associate in public. I see this as a general American trend as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Confessions, Augustine tells the story of a Roman, Victorinus, who claimed Christ in private, but would not identify with the Church in public. One of the Church fathers would not believe the confession of Victorinus until he made a public confession and stood with the church. To this, Victorinus would reply, "Do walls then make Christians?" In our culture of "acceptance", I find that my response has been the same as Victorinus to those that ask for a genuine stand.... Except, I don't feel that I have been asked for a genuine stand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Underneath all of this, is my desire for relationship with Christ. There are several passages that talk about leaving all things, counting all things loss, leaving those we love for the sake of Christ, and the loss of our life to gain Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart's cry is to be found in Christ and live a life that draws all around me to the reality of relationship with Christ. I want to find a way to have a public Confession.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115731889328812534?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115731889328812534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115731889328812534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115731889328812534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115731889328812534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-is-good-confession.html' title='What is a &quot;Good Confession&quot;?'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115716471249829819</id><published>2006-09-01T22:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T22:38:32.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A lot of thought ...</title><content type='html'>Ironically, I have been thinking so much about so many things. Mostly about God. My relationship with God and the deep tug I have felt towards Him recently. I have been trying to ask hard questions.  I have been asking them, but I find that an entire summer has taught me that I have been less than unteachable: I have been a spiritual and intellectual snob that knows less than most. It is one of the most humiliating thoughts I have had in a long time. Sadly, all I can do is cry out to God and ask forgiveness for the mockery I have made of Him to those I live with and interact with. Do you want to see a Hypocrite?  Look at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the longest time I thought that I was above sin. I was a good Christian kid that did things well. I always have gotten in trouble for the things other people do, so I don't do anythings bad on my own. I heard it said before that one man, a "pagan" came to a knowledge and relationship with Jesus Christ and an excited Co-worker congratulated him.I don't remember how the story fully went, but it ended that the man who just had recieved Christ told the other man, a "devout" Christian, that the devout Christian was the one reason he hadn't pursued God before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am realizing that I am the reason I have not pursued God more. I am both men. I have thought that my status as a "good Kid" meant that I was above sin. I really didn't think I was evil or that i had a sinful nature. I could make it by on my own. In a relgion based on grace, "perfection" makes no need for a savior. My arrogance... It astounds even me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I have been pouring over Romans and reading Confession by St. Augustine. Augustine has pierced me to the heart several times. I find myself relating far too much (except not when it comes to being wise, and catching things quickly with my intellect, and being a scholar, and... so only a little).  I only want to share one passage, then off to bed.&lt;br /&gt;    "In Rome, I joined the same "holy ones" who were decieved and were decieving others. I fell ill and convalesced in a home of one of the disciples of this group. But I went beyond even discipleship and entered the inner circle, who called themselves "the elect". I still believed that it is not we personally who sin. Rather, I wanted to believe that a foreign force of evil sins in us. That pleased my pride because then I was not responsible. If I did something evil, I didn't have to admit that I had done anything wrong. You [God] would heal my soul because some "it"  over which I had no control  was responsible. I loved to excuse myself and to accuse some other mysterious " thing" inside me that was disconnected from the real me. In truth it was wholly me and my wicked heart that divided me from myself. My sin was all the more hopeless because I did not judge myself to have any guilt.&lt;br /&gt;    What an abominable sinner I was. I wold rather have lordship over You, O God Almighty, even if it meant my ultimate destruction, than depend upon You for salvation. You had not yet put your guard on my mouth to lock my lips. I continued to say wicked things and try to justify myself so that I wouldn't have to face the guilt of my sins.&lt;br /&gt;    That is the way with those who live in sin. And I was one of their "elect"."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been such a blind fool for so long. It tears right to my core to know that I could sign my name to St. Augustine's Confession and be completely honest. I came to Asbury, found myself holy in my own eyes, in others, and lost all freedom to see You O Lord. To all those I have been arrogant, uncharitable, and condescending too, I beg your forgiveness. I really have had no Idea what I have been talking about. I can gladly say I am a new man. But I have a hard time surrendering the mockery and shame and destruction I have left on those innocent around me...&lt;br /&gt;Thank God for Grace. Now I am beginging to know what it is and why I need it so desperately.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115716471249829819?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115716471249829819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115716471249829819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115716471249829819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115716471249829819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/09/lot-of-thought.html' title='A lot of thought ...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-115358188821713112</id><published>2006-07-22T11:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-22T11:26:14.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'>from the woods...well more like a coffee shop</title><content type='html'>The summer has been amazing thus far. God has blown my mind and I have loved climbing, camping, white water canoeing/rafting, and hiking all summer. So many stories to tell...&lt;br /&gt;But a fun side note. some of the rafting guides told me to put in an application. hah. I was flattered. Sorta shocked, but I can kinda compete with them on the river.&lt;br /&gt;Thought:&lt;br /&gt;First John says that God's commands are not burdensome. Why? I will let you know sometime soon...look in Ephesians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now...I am headed off once more into the woods to work on improving my hard PFD tanlines. Go big.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-115358188821713112?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/115358188821713112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=115358188821713112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115358188821713112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/115358188821713112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/07/from-woodswell-more-like-coffee-shop.html' title='from the woods...well more like a coffee shop'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114869190036967944</id><published>2006-05-26T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T21:05:00.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading. This summer:</title><content type='html'>The Picture of Dorian Gray:&lt;br /&gt;Amazing. Not for everyone, maybe even bad for some types to read, but very convicting and very interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Great Divorce:&lt;br /&gt;Well done, quick read, deep questions raised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Velvet Elvis: Solid so far. Blows Blue Like Jazz away. I highly recommend so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your God is Too Small: Shocker and small. Really good to look at who you think "god" is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114869190036967944?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114869190036967944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114869190036967944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114869190036967944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114869190036967944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/05/reading-this-summer.html' title='Reading. This summer:'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114731925194023423</id><published>2006-05-10T23:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T23:47:31.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Invivsilbe Children Article from Washington Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/05/09/AR2006050901907.html"&gt;A Child's Hell In the LRA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114731925194023423?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114731925194023423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114731925194023423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114731925194023423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114731925194023423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/05/invivsilbe-children-article-from.html' title='Invivsilbe Children Article from Washington Post'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114730181018436872</id><published>2006-05-10T18:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T23:21:12.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h5&gt; Invitation to the Thirsty &lt;/h5&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18742" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; "Come, all you who are thirsty,&lt;br /&gt;      come to the waters;&lt;br /&gt;      and you who have no money,&lt;br /&gt;      come, buy and eat!&lt;br /&gt;      Come, buy wine and milk&lt;br /&gt;      without money and without cost. &lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18743" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Why spend money on what is not bread,&lt;br /&gt;      and your labor on what does not satisfy?&lt;br /&gt;      Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,&lt;br /&gt;      and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18744" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Give ear and come to me;&lt;br /&gt;      hear me, that your soul may live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being broke tired and ready to be understood I have had nothing left. I have messed up so much in the realms of friendships. Love. I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to accept it. I am indeed thirsty. I am hungry. Recently my philosophy has come up empty. I have wanted to come on my terms and failed miserably. I have forgotten that my terms have never counted in the invitation is free... Relational aspects that I ignored have been the point I have missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h4&gt;Isaiah 58&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;h5&gt; True Fasting &lt;/h5&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18788" class="sup"&gt;1&lt;/span&gt; "Shout it aloud, do not hold back.&lt;br /&gt;      Raise your voice like a trumpet.&lt;br /&gt;      Declare to my people their rebellion&lt;br /&gt;      and to the house of Jacob their sins. &lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18789" class="sup"&gt;2&lt;/span&gt; For day after day they seek me out;&lt;br /&gt;      they seem eager to know my ways,&lt;br /&gt;      as if they were a nation that does what is right&lt;br /&gt;      and has not forsaken the commands of its God.&lt;br /&gt;      They ask me for just decisions&lt;br /&gt;      and seem eager for God to come near them. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18790" class="sup"&gt;3&lt;/span&gt; 'Why have we fasted,' they say,&lt;br /&gt;      'and you have not seen it?&lt;br /&gt;      Why have we humbled ourselves,&lt;br /&gt;      and you have not noticed?'&lt;br /&gt;      "Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please&lt;br /&gt;      and exploit all your workers. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18791" class="sup"&gt;4&lt;/span&gt; Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife,&lt;br /&gt;      and in striking each other with wicked fists.&lt;br /&gt;      You cannot fast as you do today&lt;br /&gt;      and expect your voice to be heard on high. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18792" class="sup"&gt;5&lt;/span&gt; Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,&lt;br /&gt;      only a day for a man to humble himself?&lt;br /&gt;      Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed&lt;br /&gt;      and for lying on sackcloth and ashes?&lt;br /&gt;      Is that what you call a fast,&lt;br /&gt;      a day acceptable to the LORD ? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18793" class="sup"&gt;6&lt;/span&gt; "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:&lt;br /&gt;      to loose the chains of injustice&lt;br /&gt;      and untie the cords of the yoke,&lt;br /&gt;      to set the oppressed free&lt;br /&gt;      and break every yoke? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18794" class="sup"&gt;7&lt;/span&gt; Is it not to share your food with the hungry&lt;br /&gt;      and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—&lt;br /&gt;      when you see the naked, to clothe him,&lt;br /&gt;      and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18795" class="sup"&gt;8&lt;/span&gt; Then your light will break forth like the dawn,&lt;br /&gt;      and your healing will quickly appear;&lt;br /&gt;      then your righteousness &lt;sup&gt;[&lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=isaiah%2058;&amp;version=31;#fen-NIV-18795a" title="See footnote a"&gt;a&lt;/a&gt;]&lt;/sup&gt; will go before you,&lt;br /&gt;      and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18796" class="sup"&gt;9&lt;/span&gt; Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;&lt;br /&gt;      you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.&lt;br /&gt;      "If you do away with the yoke of oppression,&lt;br /&gt;      with the pointing finger and malicious talk, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18797" class="sup"&gt;10&lt;/span&gt; and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry&lt;br /&gt;      and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,&lt;br /&gt;      then your light will rise in the darkness,&lt;br /&gt;      and your night will become like the noonday. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18798" class="sup"&gt;11&lt;/span&gt; The LORD will guide you always;&lt;br /&gt;      he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land&lt;br /&gt;      and will strengthen your frame.&lt;br /&gt;      You will be like a well-watered garden,&lt;br /&gt;      like a spring whose waters never fail. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18799" class="sup"&gt;12&lt;/span&gt; Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins&lt;br /&gt;      and will raise up the age-old foundations;&lt;br /&gt;      you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,&lt;br /&gt;      Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18800" class="sup"&gt;13&lt;/span&gt; "If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath&lt;br /&gt;      and from doing as you please on my holy day,&lt;br /&gt;      if you call the Sabbath a delight&lt;br /&gt;      and the LORD's holy day honorable,&lt;br /&gt;      and if you honor it by not going your own way&lt;br /&gt;      and not doing as you please or speaking idle words, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;span id="en-NIV-18801" class="sup"&gt;14&lt;/span&gt; then you will find your joy in the LORD,&lt;br /&gt;      and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land&lt;br /&gt;      and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob."&lt;br /&gt;      The mouth of the LORD has spoken.&lt;/p&gt;So this call to seek God in serving others. Forgiveness for so much shallow talk. To pour ourselves our for those in need. AoA. IC. It has a cost. Comfort. Oh I want comfort. But I want the call to be so much more than my thought of the cost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h5&gt; &lt;/h5&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114730181018436872?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114730181018436872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114730181018436872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114730181018436872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114730181018436872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/05/invitation-to-thirsty-come-all-you-who.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114729491040432835</id><published>2006-05-10T16:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T17:01:50.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>[blank]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114729491040432835?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114729491040432835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114729491040432835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114729491040432835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114729491040432835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/05/blank.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114642079687821552</id><published>2006-04-30T14:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T14:13:16.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'>GNC and duct tape...</title><content type='html'>Thanks to all of you who stuck it out in the rain last night. I taked to at least twenty passer-bys that had no clue what was going on in Northern Uganda.  I haven't seen anything on the news. I think that we are being eclipsed by the immigrant protest/walkout  threatened tomorrow. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, strange but true:&lt;br /&gt;Duct tape can rip off lip skin. Don't hold it in your mouth like you would normal tape. I answered questions for a group of curious people after ripping a chunk of skin off of my lips. I think it is both funny and sick. I asked for them to excuse my bleeding...they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114642079687821552?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114642079687821552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114642079687821552' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114642079687821552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114642079687821552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/gnc-and-duct-tape.html' title='GNC and duct tape...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114607054505662965</id><published>2006-04-26T12:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T12:55:45.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'>More...</title><content type='html'>Recently the more I have looked at myself and actually pealed back the layers of my colloused past three years I am at the realization that I truly need a savior. I guess broken is a good miserable place to be. I can't stand how blind I have been. It continues to be painful to know that certain parables are directed right at me. he gives sight to the blind and I need it before I make bigger messes.&lt;br /&gt;I am just blown away and the rain that we have been experienceing seems to be how conviction has hit me recently, hard. It refreshes, but leaves me cold. I have had a fog...a cloudy haze that smells like rain in my life and now I know why. I'd love a good cigar and I miss the peace... I know this is getting muddled.&lt;br /&gt;This is where I so long to hear: "arise shine for the light of His glory shines now upon you." Redemption and conviction take different forms than I would expect...I need to work on my expectations. I am so happy that I can fall into a grace that forgives, but I need the courage to obey. Grace has a deep cost and I never want to cheapen it by my stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey all....Invisible Children on Oprah today at four. Watch it. We have a central location for the commute and security clearance to park. If you have questions give me a call or toss out a note.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114607054505662965?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114607054505662965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114607054505662965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114607054505662965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114607054505662965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/more.html' title='More...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114599078873614633</id><published>2006-04-25T14:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T14:46:28.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B.O.</title><content type='html'>After working out there is always that question: "Do I stink, or did my deodorant work?" I think it is really funny that I can sniff around and try to find out who it is in my group that stinks. Sometimes I find out, in a horrific realization, that it is me. I am the stinker.  Closely related to that. Sometimes we can't smell our own B.O. It's an odd phenomenon. It's an even more odd line of thought, but stick with me. We can recognize someone else's stench, but be completely oblivious to our own.&lt;br /&gt;So a random thought... but in my mind this is where it leads. I think the B.O. of humanity is hypocrisy. It has a uniquely repulsive odor about it. We can recognize it anywhere. I really don't like having to deal with people suffering from it, but like my B.O. example, sometimes I smell a stench that I can't locate. Sometimes I even become oblivious to my own odor. Recently I have been such an oblivious hypocrite. Really rank and I had no idea how bad I was. Just like trying to keep genuinely interested in a conversation with someone that smells horribly, I also have an aversion to words, however true they are, spoken out of hyporisy. So often ,after a history of an action, it is almost impossible to get the scent impression out of your mind. Here is my confession of social B.O. I am not proud of...I can't be. I ask your forgiveness. I know you most likely won't be able to forget it. It scars the memory. But that's my stench and I am resposible for making you uncomfortable...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114599078873614633?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114599078873614633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114599078873614633' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114599078873614633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114599078873614633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/bo.html' title='B.O.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114589409514012451</id><published>2006-04-24T11:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T12:04:00.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought and Rocktown pics...of me...vanity....</title><content type='html'>"That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking the other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in."&lt;br /&gt;-C.S. Lewis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20098.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/320/Picture%20098.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20020.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/320/Picture%20020.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20080.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/320/Picture%20080.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114589409514012451?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114589409514012451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114589409514012451' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114589409514012451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114589409514012451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/thought-and-rocktown-picsof-mevanity.html' title='Thought and Rocktown pics...of me...vanity....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114555769229806964</id><published>2006-04-20T14:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T14:28:12.300-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Invisible Children...</title><content type='html'>Last night's showing surprised me. I expected 200 people at best. We has closer to 500. It was amazing to see all that work come to fruition. The question always remains, "What now?" I have to get back to work... But thanks to all who came. You shocked me. Thanks also to Garren, Joe, Sarah, and Michelle. You guys were fun to get to know... good luck as you wrap things up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114555769229806964?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114555769229806964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114555769229806964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114555769229806964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114555769229806964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/invisible-children.html' title='Invisible Children...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114530859990970354</id><published>2006-04-17T16:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T14:19:31.820-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Doubting Thomas... and Faith... life.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;"C&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;an I be used to help others find truth&lt;br /&gt;When I'm scared I'll find proof that it's a lie&lt;br /&gt;Can I be led down a trail dropping bread crumbs&lt;br /&gt;That prove I'm not ready to die&lt;br /&gt;Please give me time to decipher the signs&lt;br /&gt;Please forgive me for time that I've wasted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt; ..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in this whole philosophy thing, I have always been terrified that what I have based my life around could be proven false. It's an interesting thing to feel at times that life is built around a house of cards that a single philosophical delima could bring it down. I guess I am now at the point that I am fairly confident in the reality of Christ. I have doubted and questioned and had so many fits to try and get my way. I have tried to prove it false for so long. It is quite ironic to try to disprove something when the one thing I want is for Christ to be truth.  That reality would be too good for it to be true. Wouldn't it?&lt;br /&gt;I have gotten used to not holding my breath.  A while back I wrote that I had nothing to say, but that I wanted too. It was like a birthing process (although i am not sure how much I can own or appreciate the analogy). I have been dealing with Kant and Hegel in Modern and as many questions as they have raised which cause many theologians to hate them, I find some serious comfort in what they have said. Kant really helped to cement (or at least bring hope) to some issues I have had. In many ways he is a doubter's philosopher.  I never wanted to be a clone or one of the faceless conservative mob. I have never liked a label. As many, I thought that acceptance of Christ means the rejection of an identity and the theft of personality.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I can say that I have finally come to the place that God, in the reality of Christ, is an almost unquestionable reality. As I have said I wared against it for so long. I have attacked the weaknesses and come back defeated. It is a good place.&lt;br /&gt;Now, instead of the loss of identity, Christ is actually the gaining of identity and the realization of personality for me. I have lived so long trying to please people or fit in. I have been lost in the futile attempt to be"like that". It hurts and is so painful to attempt. In Christ I have the freedom to be the more honest and sincere than anywhere else.  It is not easy. So many causes and people vie for my heart, so many ideas wrestle for my mind. It all boils down to obedience faith and having the courage to act on both. In some ways it is a fight, an act of will, to overcome everything that screams, "NO!". But it is rewarding and freedom...and freedom is worth fighting for. The thought that I could, can , and have been used blows my mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114530859990970354?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114530859990970354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114530859990970354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114530859990970354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114530859990970354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/doubting-thomas-and-faith-life.html' title='Doubting Thomas... and Faith... life.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114417471708154360</id><published>2006-04-04T13:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T14:18:37.223-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So silence has become me recently. It is not that I don't have things on my mind or ideas that are bursting  to be relesed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114417471708154360?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114417471708154360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114417471708154360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114417471708154360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114417471708154360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-silence-has-become-me-recently.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114210292211430173</id><published>2006-03-11T13:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-11T13:48:42.140-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Blank and ignorant... SOmetimes I realize too late what a dumb kid I am. So far to go and it is not even funny.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114210292211430173?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114210292211430173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114210292211430173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114210292211430173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114210292211430173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/03/blank-and-ignorant.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114145489436608615</id><published>2006-03-04T01:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T14:50:15.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Being salt and light...maybe even arrested.</title><content type='html'>So usually I have tame Friday nights.  Irony of inronies the normal suspects were out of town this weekend. This meant that I got to catch up with some friends I haven't been able to hang out with. So a group of us went to the mall in Lexington, I am proud to admit I haven't set foot in one since Christmas, and then went to Common Grounds for the evening. We laughed about how homeless people always  find me and hang out with me. Then we sit and have long talks and they give me some pretty sweet advice. Well, one of the musicians supposed to play cancelled, so rather than spend an hour or two sitting and waiting for the other guy to come to play we went to our favorite health code violation Chinese place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am broke and debated on getting the General Tso's or not. But, why not? So I bought it and made small talk with the guy at the cash register. He asked if I wanted the value meal and somehow we talked about happy meals... (random note: I love chopsticks).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we got our food, we wanted to find a place to eat it. We drove for a while trying to find a place  to park and a place inside because it had gotten cold. We finally settled down to eat, but they put too much Chicken in my to-go box. My General Tso's sause spilled on my leg and I was fairly frustrated fom that, but as I ate I became full. Anyone who has seem me eat Thai or Chinese knows that is very rare, but I couldn't finish, or even come close. A minute after I commented to the group that I couldn't eat any more a man who was down on his luck and drunk walked in. It's funny when you know why things happened and what is supposed to be done. So seemed only right to give Larry (the guy who walked in) my chicken. He told us his life story. and gave us a piece of gum. And then we needed to go. He asked for a dollar for bus-fare and I was going to give him some more change, but he only accepted the dollar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God always blows my mind with things like that. I am so blessed. I understand more why Jesus spent time with the poor and rejected. Love takes many forms and just listening to a life story. So often walking around a city can be a weird process. Life has all of its most raw aspects laid bare in front of oyu if you dare to look. Being salt and light doesn't always mean standing on a soapbox, but rather sitting on the ground. The more I read about Jesus the more I am amazed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended the night at Common Grounds, left about 45 minutes after the last set had finished, and attempted to get back in time for curfew. Well, we were pulled over and spent about 40 minutes with the wilmore Police department. I wasn't friving, but two of us apparently look like we "have fun" to the officers. After threats of arrests and K-9 unit searches, they decided tto give us a break. I need to remember about the beard before I fly again... dress up. Even though we were late, God is good. It just gave me an opportunity to leave some fun messages for Josiah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114145489436608615?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114145489436608615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114145489436608615' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114145489436608615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114145489436608615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/03/being-salt-and-lightmaybe-even.html' title='Being salt and light...maybe even arrested.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114116125298376052</id><published>2006-02-28T15:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T16:14:15.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"It is a sin to bore anyone with the Gospel."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114116125298376052?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114116125298376052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114116125298376052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114116125298376052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114116125298376052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/it-is-sin-to-bore-anyone-with-gospel.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114089395860969270</id><published>2006-02-25T13:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T17:23:22.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"I can see now I never really committed... I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and... I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments. " (High Fidelity)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it interesting how often commitment has been a dirty word to me. I like having control. I'll be honest. I like to be in control, but I don't want the responsibility when the blame is getting dished out. I like to live vicariously thorugh people and organize their actions and watch the success. Then i become frustrated because it is my idea that is getting someont else credit. Well, that is some real insecurity isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are changing for me. I am tired of being passive, and there are some things in life that you cannot just sit on someone else's coat-tails for. Good gets in the way of the best. Pain happens too. People say that nothing of value comes for free or doesn't have a price that must be paid. In the midst of calls to "settle" and to "just accept things", I can't help but think that that is wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am not quite certain where I supposed to be, God has been revealing some new passions that I did not know I had. Regardless of where I am headed, I can't help but feel that God never calls us to settle! He calls us to FOLLOW. Paul shows a zeal to keeep moving forward. There are many examples, but one of the most clear for me is in Philippians:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="en-NIV-29416" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, &lt;span id="en-NIV-29417" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. &lt;span id="en-NIV-29418" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;press on to take hold&lt;/span&gt; of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. &lt;span id="en-NIV-29419" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Forgetting what is behind and straining toward &lt;/span&gt;what is ahead, &lt;span id="en-NIV-29420" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; press on&lt;/span&gt; toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess being a (former) athlete brings this into perspective. So often I wanted to quit. When I hurt I wanted to give up so badly. If I give up I become less than mediocre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To commit...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114089395860969270?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114089395860969270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114089395860969270' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114089395860969270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114089395860969270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-can-see-now-i-never-really-committed.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114064695879890479</id><published>2006-02-22T17:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T17:22:38.820-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20110.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/Picture%20110.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I feel it so much today. So battered. It is interesting how I want to grow, but tend to hate the pain involved. All I want is not what I need:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;&lt;br /&gt;       he heard my cry for mercy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span id="en-NIV-15851" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Because he turned his ear to me,&lt;br /&gt;       I will call on him as long as I live. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;The cords of death entangled me,&lt;br /&gt;       the anguish of the grave came upon me;&lt;br /&gt;       I was overcome by trouble and sorrow. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;Then I called on the name of the LORD :&lt;br /&gt;       "O LORD, save me!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;The LORD is gracious and righteous;&lt;br /&gt;       our God is full of compassion. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;The LORD protects the simplehearted;&lt;br /&gt;       when I was in great need, he saved me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;Be at rest once more, O my soul,&lt;br /&gt;       for the LORD has been good to you. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death,&lt;br /&gt;       my eyes from tears,&lt;br /&gt;       my feet from stumbling,&lt;br /&gt;       that I may walk before the LORD&lt;br /&gt;       in the land of the living. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: center;"&gt;How can I repay the LORD&lt;br /&gt;       for all his goodness to me? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114064695879890479?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114064695879890479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114064695879890479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114064695879890479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114064695879890479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/i-feel-it-so-much-today.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114064517718266759</id><published>2006-02-22T16:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T16:52:57.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hmmm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/Picture.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yeah. This is a dorm room. Just thought I would let you know. It makes me laugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114064517718266759?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114064517718266759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114064517718266759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114064517718266759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114064517718266759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/hmmm.html' title='hmmm.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-114045786350928892</id><published>2006-02-20T12:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-22T11:19:07.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Aquinas....</title><content type='html'>So in Aquinas the other day, we got into a friendly debate over the things necessary for happiness. One of the questions in his &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Treatise on Happiness&lt;/span&gt; is, " Are friends necessary for hapiness?".  I sharply disagreed with Aquinas in class.  He says that there are two types of happiness: perfect and imperfect.  For imperfect happines it seems as though friends are required, but he concludes that the combination of God  and one person creates all that is needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, several of us tried to take down Saint Thomas. We argued that if an was in a vacuum this would be fine, but man is relational. We cannot fathom only God. God said it was "not good" for man to be alone in Genesis. We talked about how even hermits interact with people occasionally and that isolation is not good for people. Some students brought up the monastic orders and pointed out how men separate themselves from the world, but we instantly rebuted them saying that they at least lived in a community of like minded monks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking for a while today, a week later, about my resonse on this question. I was confusing the ideal with the actual. I was trasnfering my frustration for God not being sufficient for me as an excuse to shoot down Aquinas. Like I wrote a while back, we are beings that live a life of reaction. I reacted to my prof's high view of Aquinas and my own spiritual frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see friends as a necessity because of my overdependance on them. I do not like being alone. What is alone? Humorous, is it not? William Wadsworth wrote, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The World is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste to our powers&lt;/span&gt;". If we were to remove our dependance on the friends that fail, and then to place it in the one who created them, how would we live? We are such needy people. Such helpless children. And this is where friends help to balance us out. I believe that friends are necessary, but should not be our aim. I think that the ideal would be great, but due to our fallen nature we are unable to completely attain the ideal. Most of the practical things that I have learned about God i have learned through my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"He asks too much to whom God is not sufficient."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;“&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He is an exceedingly covetous fellow to whom God is not sufficient; and he is an exceeding fool to whom the world is sufficient. For God is all inexhaustible treasury of all riches, sufficing innumerable men; while the world has mere trifles and fascinations to offer, and leads the soul into deep and sorrowful poverty.&lt;/span&gt;”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-114045786350928892?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/114045786350928892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=114045786350928892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114045786350928892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/114045786350928892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/aquinas.html' title='Aquinas....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113984813088848937</id><published>2006-02-13T10:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T12:43:10.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reactions...</title><content type='html'>I watched chapel today. Snug in my room. I had just gotten out of the shower, having overslept. I woke up miserably seeking God. Feeling empty. Apparently I was not seeking God, but my comfort. I always want to feel his peace, but not His unsettling movement in my life.  I just couldn't get over myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been realizing how selfish I am and focusing on that. I have been using myself to hide from God.  You know when you hold your hand up really close to your eye, you can blot out something so much bigger (even squish a head ot two). Well I have in a sense been squishing God. I have kept God at an arm's length and stared at what I consider bad in my life instead of praising Him for what is good in my life. I have been so busy telling God what I think that he should do in my life instead of actually listening and hearing what He has called me to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped and listened. All I could hear was my own thoughts and the chaos that I have let them hold in my life. Such loud silence. Thoughts jumbled and crashing into each other. I wish I could blame it on ADD. This will come to a point soon...trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Image:&lt;br /&gt;When you fly or travel, sometimes people focus too close to their vehicle. SO much movement and lack of control. Lack of direction. This can cause motion sickness. Or try a slack line. If you focus exactly on what you are doing (each step and shift of the webbing) you will lose your balance. In both instances you need to look intently at something farther or bigger than yourself. You must pick a point and dedicate your eyes to being fixed on it. This give a perspective that balances out the instability. I think this is how it is in our inner life. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith&lt;/span&gt;, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful man, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, my conclusion is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we focus on ourselves, our world falls into chaos, our dreams become empty and void of life, and our God becomes small. If we focus on Christ, keeping our eyes disiplined and rightly directed, we are free to worship. We are free to live. yes, there will be suffering and things flying by us, but we will have found the person that can "keep us from falling" and will "do immeasuably more than we," in our shortsightedness,  could hope or ask for. Then people will see the servant and want to know the master.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113984813088848937?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113984813088848937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113984813088848937' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113984813088848937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113984813088848937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/reactions.html' title='Reactions...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113980667543373694</id><published>2006-02-12T23:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T23:57:55.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"...stop asking God to bless what you’re doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Get involved in what God is doing—because it’s already blessed." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113980667543373694?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113980667543373694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113980667543373694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113980667543373694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113980667543373694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113977088469038011</id><published>2006-02-12T13:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-12T14:01:24.723-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Being a Bastard...no really.</title><content type='html'>"Am I putting God in the humiliating position of having treated me as a child of His whilst all the time I have been ignoring Him? When I do hear Him, the humiliation I have put on Him comes back on me - "Lord, why was I so dull and so obstinate?" This is always the result when once we do hear God. The real delight of hearing Him is tempered with shame in having been so long in hearing Him. "&lt;br /&gt;Chambers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat of it's fruit."&lt;br /&gt;Proverbs 18:21&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father?If you are not disciplined (and everyone is dsciplined), than you are illegitimate children and not true sons."&lt;br /&gt;Hebrews 12:7-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Harsh title, huh? Especially coming from me. I tend to not use this kind of language, even if it is what I mean or want to say, but my tongue has forced me into this position. My heart has not been pursuing God with all that is in it. As the snow is once more falling, I am reminded of the way my sins are not  covered, but gone.  Yet I am so hesitant to accept a gift that I consider free: Forginveness. Ironically it is not free. It is so expensive. It costs two lives. His and mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So confidently yesterday i took my life into my hands and decided to be "cute". My wit is sharp and some people consider that a blessing. Well, I cut too many people with its blade. One. One person is too many. And for that my heart is broken. I humilliated Christ by not thinking. I took for granted the power of words once more and became, no,  a not a bastard, because that implies something that I cannot help (and I can help this), but such a prodigal son. I find it funny the way I realize meanings of words, but I will keep the title because it is catchy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been claiming to hear God on such levels as acting on what I feel is a call. Saddly I have ignored the very basest, simplest call: To love in word deed and truth. Haha. Yeah I usually don't work things out on such a public level. I am very private and very proud. And selfish. Thankfully there is forgiveness and discipline. You know, I think the idea of Catholic penance is very appealing to me. But I am reminded of Joel 2:13 right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; Rend your heart&lt;br /&gt;       and not your garments.&lt;br /&gt;       Return to the LORD your God,&lt;br /&gt;       for he is gracious and compassionate,&lt;br /&gt;       slow to anger and abounding in love,&lt;br /&gt;       and he relents from sending calamity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;All the actions I want are not enough unless I change in my heart. Well, my heart is torn.&lt;br /&gt; "Come, let us return to the LORD&lt;br /&gt;         For He has torn us, but &lt;sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;He will heal us;&lt;br /&gt;         He has wounded us, but He will bandage us.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;span id="en-NASB-22170" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"He will revive us after two days;&lt;br /&gt;         He will &lt;sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;raise us up on the third day,&lt;br /&gt;         That we may live before Him.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;span id="en-NASB-22171" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"So let us know, let us press on to know the LORD&lt;br /&gt;         His &lt;sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;going forth is as certain as the dawn;&lt;br /&gt;         And He will come to us like the rain,&lt;br /&gt;         Like the spring rain watering the earth."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;come rains, oh come rains...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113977088469038011?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113977088469038011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113977088469038011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113977088469038011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113977088469038011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/being-bastardno-really.html' title='Being a Bastard...no really.'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113972016436761718</id><published>2006-02-11T23:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T23:56:04.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes the best thing said is nothing at all...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113972016436761718?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113972016436761718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113972016436761718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113972016436761718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113972016436761718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/sometimes-best-thing-said-is-nothing.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113960824514213236</id><published>2006-02-10T16:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T16:32:24.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Philosophy...</title><content type='html'>Nine hours of philosophy this semester makes me very aware of a few things. One. I tend to be shallow and partial to how I look at the world. Two. I bit off more than I can chew well. And three. So much of life is a reaction. Reactions of the mind against things that move us. So many great thinkers stumbled into their beliefs because of how passionately they were struck, both possitively and negatively, by the actions or assertions of another. Hobbes to Descartes. Spinoza to Hobbes and Descartes. Etc. This reactionary attitude dwells in the depths of my heart and mind. Often to my detriment. I have hated the church for so long. Everything about the lies lived by members makes me hurt and deeply saddened by how I know it is supposed to be different. I have run in so many simple ways from that "institution" failling to see that the institution is not the Church. The irony is that I condemn it for being fake, for not loving, for not being Christ, for not taking action and for walking the other side of the road when an untouchable is in need. These traits are mine as well. People like to use this qu&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ote often, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;"The Church is a whore, but she is my mother." Augustine had it right there, but I too am a whore as well. Intellectually I stand pointing a finger at the church. Yet, I have become terrified that I will start to serve the intellect more the the one that made the thought possible. It starts small. Then I am left with the biggest ego. So proud. Certainly there are many things wrong with the church, but I have been attempting to stone it so often, when i am the one caught in adultery. Thankfully I just need to open my ears and hear "neither do I condemn you." More later...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113960824514213236?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113960824514213236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113960824514213236' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113960824514213236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113960824514213236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/philosophy.html' title='Philosophy...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113934517753093596</id><published>2006-02-07T15:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T15:46:17.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I?</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Who am I? They often tell me&lt;br /&gt;I would step from my cell's confinement&lt;br /&gt;calmly, cheerfully, firmly,&lt;br /&gt;like a squire from his country-house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I? They also tell me&lt;br /&gt;I would talk to my warders&lt;br /&gt;freely and friendly and clearly,&lt;br /&gt;as though it were mine to command.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I? They also tell me&lt;br /&gt;I would bear the days of misfortune&lt;br /&gt;equably, smilingly, proudly,&lt;br /&gt;like one accustomed to win. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I then really all that which other men tell of?&lt;br /&gt;Or am I only what I myself know of myself,&lt;br /&gt;restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,&lt;br /&gt;struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,&lt;br /&gt;yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,&lt;br /&gt;thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,&lt;br /&gt;trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation,&lt;br /&gt;tossing in expectation of great events,&lt;br /&gt;powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,&lt;br /&gt;weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,&lt;br /&gt;faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I? This or the other?&lt;br /&gt;Am I one person today, and tomorrow another?&lt;br /&gt;Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,&lt;br /&gt;and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?&lt;br /&gt;Or is something within me still like a beaten army,&lt;br /&gt;fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.&lt;br /&gt;Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bonhoeffer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113934517753093596?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113934517753093596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113934517753093596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113934517753093596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113934517753093596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/who-am-i.html' title='Who am I?'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113933318289531041</id><published>2006-02-07T12:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T12:32:17.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Now for action...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="body"&gt;"The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Bonhoeffer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Hwne you have a cause that is bigger than you, it give you a life and energy that is outside of your normal restrictions. I have a passion for something and that is rare. I have hidden it for fear. Well now the fire has been lit, and the plan of action is in the works.  I long for a pure heart and motives in all that I am doing. Too often the choice is lead, shutup, walk away, or be ineffective and numb. That is not acceptable now. Not enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is amazing how fearful I am of stepping up and claiming what is in my heart with confidence. The impact of an event is felt in its aftermath. What happened? Or what has changed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Will I be different now or the same?&lt;br /&gt;Have even learned anything?&lt;br /&gt;...or was it just a way to spend a day or two set aside for thinking thoughts about you.&lt;br /&gt;If that's all it was I had a good time.&lt;br /&gt;But that won't be enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;Not this year or anytime soon!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Charlie Peacock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actions should and must be taken to be Christ to the community and to make up for lost time. Not for our sake or the church's ...but for Christ. It is time to stand up and stand by those in need. Whether on a national, international level, or the guy standing next to me in line, I need to reflect Christ to them in everything I do. He  has been slandered by my actions and words long enough. Call me out everyone. Keep me accountable...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="bodybold"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113933318289531041?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113933318289531041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113933318289531041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113933318289531041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113933318289531041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/now-for-action.html' title='Now for action...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113923728439510418</id><published>2006-02-06T09:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T09:49:40.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Heart...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Prostitutes are in no danger of finding their present life so satisfactory that they cannot turn to God: the pround, the avarice, the self-righteous, are in danger."&lt;br /&gt;C. S. Lewis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never wanted to have a heart that is not attached to the comfort of the world  more than I do now. I am so tired of being a white-washed tomb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can live the College life or change the world."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113923728439510418?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113923728439510418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113923728439510418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113923728439510418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113923728439510418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/heart.html' title='Heart...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113916958528183938</id><published>2006-02-05T14:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T15:06:48.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Take action....</title><content type='html'>www.seekjustice.org&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AIDS&lt;br /&gt;Northern Uganda&lt;br /&gt;Sex Tourism&lt;br /&gt;Etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let your voice be heard...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just got back from the Acting on AIDS Leadership Conference. I am processing the information, so expect loads of information coming soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113916958528183938?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113916958528183938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113916958528183938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113916958528183938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113916958528183938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/take-action.html' title='Take action....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113889356397127639</id><published>2006-02-02T09:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-02T10:21:15.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Definitions: Defined?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;1&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; an act of determining; &lt;i&gt;specifically&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; the formal proclamation of a Roman Catholic dogma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2 a&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; a statement expressing the essential nature of something &lt;b&gt;b&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; a statement of the meaning of a word or word group or a sign or symbol  &lt;dictionary&gt;definition&lt;i&gt;s&lt;/i&gt;&gt; &lt;b&gt;c&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; a product of defining&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; the action or process of &lt;/dictionary&gt;defining&lt;br /&gt;&lt;dictionary&gt;&lt;b&gt;4 a&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; the action or the power of describing, explaining, or making &lt;/dictionary&gt;definate&lt;dictionary&gt; and clear &lt;/dictionary&gt;&lt;b&gt;b &lt;/b&gt;: clarity of visual presentation &lt;b&gt;:&lt;/b&gt; distinctness of outline or detail &lt;br /&gt;&lt;dictionary&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/dictionary&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What needs to be alright in your life for you to be alright?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What defines your identity?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jim burgen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;When you describe yourself what words to you use and what names do you drop. I have been so convicted of this the past month. Seriously listen to yourself... How do you define your worth? And by your conversations, how do you define those around you? I know I need to change the way I speak. I am careless with my words...&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113889356397127639?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113889356397127639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113889356397127639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113889356397127639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113889356397127639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/02/definitions-defined.html' title='Definitions: Defined?'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113856260854684989</id><published>2006-01-29T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T14:23:29.773-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New news....</title><content type='html'>Just so you know: Invisible Chidlren is coming to campus on April 19th at 9:00pm in Hughes. We are still working the details as to whether we can get the film-makers to attend and speak. That would be sweet. In either case, please come out an be changed. This is a moving film that is a nightmare o us, but a waking state to thousands of children in Uganda and around the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with the uncertainty involved in the Congo/AO! situations, I have learned one really important thing. One opportunity gives the mandate to pour everything out into the other. Regardless of where I am led, I need to have a passion as if I was supposed to do the other. Funny thought, huh? I just had the thought, maybe a realization, I so often fall into a passivity when i think I know where I am supposed to go. It is as if I need something to doubt in my life so that I can cling to God instead of my plans (Descartes anyone?). Have you ever wondered if you knew exactly what you were supposed to do with your life (in the datails) if you would be able to be as effective as you would taking one step at a time? It's just something to think about...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span id="en-NIV-22609" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One who breaks open the way will go up before them;&lt;br /&gt;       they will break through the gate and go out.&lt;br /&gt;       Their king will pass through before them,&lt;br /&gt;       the LORD at their head."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. &lt;span id="en-NIV-29414" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ &lt;span id="en-NIV-29415" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. &lt;span id="en-NIV-29416" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, &lt;span id="en-NIV-29417" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="en-NIV-29418" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. &lt;span id="en-NIV-29419" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, &lt;span id="en-NIV-29420" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113856260854684989?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113856260854684989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113856260854684989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113856260854684989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113856260854684989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/new-news.html' title='New news....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113837999495323292</id><published>2006-01-27T11:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T11:39:54.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When you are real...</title><content type='html'>"Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter. "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113837999495323292?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113837999495323292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113837999495323292' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113837999495323292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113837999495323292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/when-you-are-real.html' title='When you are real...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113829222612636367</id><published>2006-01-26T11:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-26T11:17:06.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I once was fatherless,&lt;br /&gt;a stranger with no hope;&lt;br /&gt;Your kindness wakened me,&lt;br /&gt;Awakened me, from my sleep&lt;br /&gt;Your love it beckons deeply,&lt;br /&gt;a call to come and die.&lt;br /&gt;By grace now I will come&lt;br /&gt;And take this life, take your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sin has lost it's power,&lt;br /&gt;death has lost it's sting.&lt;br /&gt;From the grave you've risen&lt;br /&gt;VICTORIOUSLY!&lt;br /&gt;Into marvelous light I'm running,&lt;br /&gt;Out of darkness, out of shame.&lt;br /&gt;By the cross you are the truth,&lt;br /&gt;You are the life, you are the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dead heart now is beating,&lt;br /&gt;My deepest stains now clean.&lt;br /&gt;Your breath fills up my lungs.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm free. now I'm free!&lt;br /&gt;Lift my hands and spin around,&lt;br /&gt;See the light that i have found.&lt;br /&gt;Oh the marvelous light&lt;br /&gt;Marvelous light&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-C. Hall&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113829222612636367?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113829222612636367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113829222612636367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113829222612636367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113829222612636367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-once-was-fatherless-stranger-with-no.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113812879092472978</id><published>2006-01-24T13:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-24T13:53:10.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"I Know that my Redeemer lives,&lt;br /&gt;and that in the end he will stand upon the earth.&lt;br /&gt;And after my skin has been destroyed,&lt;br /&gt;yet in my flesh I will see God;&lt;br /&gt;I myself will see him with my own eyes&lt;br /&gt;--I and not another.&lt;br /&gt;How my heart yearns within me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; Job 19: 25-27 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113812879092472978?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113812879092472978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113812879092472978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113812879092472978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113812879092472978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-know-that-my-redeemer-lives-and-that.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113803567073227353</id><published>2006-01-23T11:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T12:16:55.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/DSCN0680.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/320/DSCN0680.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Well, the going rate for change is not cheap. Big ideas are expensive."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Every era has its defining struggle and the fate of Africa is one of ours. It's not the only one, but in the history books it's easily going to make the top five, what we did or what we did not do. It's a proving ground, as I said earlier, for the idea of equality. But whether it's this or something else, I hope you'll pick a fight and get in it." -Bono&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey all. Check out invisiblechildren.com . We are trying to get them at Asbury.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113803567073227353?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113803567073227353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113803567073227353' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113803567073227353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113803567073227353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/well-going-rate-for-change-is-not.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113762935341003653</id><published>2006-01-18T19:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T19:09:13.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Color to the Break:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20092.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/Picture%20092.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nashville nightlife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/Picture%20077.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;nice slogan...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/Picture%20075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/Picture%20075.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes 11 of us around Nashville in the Toyota '87 Van..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113762935341003653?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113762935341003653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113762935341003653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113762935341003653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113762935341003653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/some-color-to-break.html' title='Some Color to the Break:'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113760440028714902</id><published>2006-01-18T12:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T18:41:54.400-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Having loved his own who were in the world,&lt;br /&gt;he now showed them the extent of his love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he got up from the meal,&lt;br /&gt;took off his outer clothing,&lt;br /&gt;and wrapped a towel around his waist.&lt;br /&gt;After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his [friends'] feet,&lt;br /&gt;drying them with the towel wrapped around him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113760440028714902?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113760440028714902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113760440028714902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113760440028714902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113760440028714902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/having-loved-his-own-who-were-in-world.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113760257177006007</id><published>2006-01-18T11:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T11:42:51.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So last night I went to the climbing gym in Chacos. It was sweet then. Somewhat rainy. Then I went over to the girls' place and as I was leaving...in my chacos I noticed that there was snow covering the ground. Its funny what can happen in a couple hours in Kentucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "John Wesley Covenant Renewal Service" was today. As I was sitting there, I actually believed what I was saying. I wanted to actually say it. Not to be constrained by the dull drone of voices, but to really say it with conviction. I was slightly torn by this urge to read it with some form of passion, so I listened to the voices around me. I heard many just trying to conform with the cadence of the crowd, but then I listened some more. I heard two or three voices around me that were actually passionate about what they were saying. I was comforted by their voices... &lt;br /&gt;Funny I know. But it stood out to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Do things passionately. Passion pushes you; lack of it poisons you."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113760257177006007?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113760257177006007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113760257177006007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113760257177006007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113760257177006007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/time.html' title='Time...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113746850434590301</id><published>2006-01-16T22:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T22:28:24.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Recently....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I have been thinking about myself and people around me. I like to please people so much. I like to find my value in the opinions more than almost anything, yet I cutting this thing out of my life is so painful. Thing might be freudian slip, because I wanted to write "these things" but I guess I was thinking about a specific something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;If you watch t.v. and the program scrubs, then i can be best described as J.D., Bambi, Scooter, or whatever name you want the character to go by. I hate people that say that... the ones that project themselves into a show. It has always made me mad, but Ithink this one actually fits this time. Sad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;welcome to my inner thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113746850434590301?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113746850434590301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113746850434590301' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113746850434590301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113746850434590301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/recently.html' title='Recently....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113743946849737686</id><published>2006-01-16T14:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-16T14:24:28.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Now my life will change.  I shall be born again in a new form."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dostoevsky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113743946849737686?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113743946849737686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113743946849737686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113743946849737686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113743946849737686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/now-my-life-will-change.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113702992484478166</id><published>2006-01-11T20:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T20:52:27.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Alito...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yay for confirmation hearings. What else is there to watch on such a gloriously rainy cold day? I really urge you to take advantage of this time to see what your elected representatives are actually doing on the Judicial Committee. I call myself a moderate, tend to be more conservative, but I really enjoyed hearing Sen. Dick Durbin ask Judge Alito questions. They could carry on a conversation with each other and it was an amazing contrast to the embarrassing display of Sen. Kennedy (notice I was commending Durbin: he is a democrat from Illinois)). I have been fascinated about the inability for many on both sides of the isle to not be able to get over Roe and ask other questions probing the minds of our judicial nominees. It is as if the Supreme Court hears no cases other than on abortion. Can there be anything more important? I do not mean to down play the importance of the abortion issue, but so much more is at stake in a judicial nomination than one or two issues.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That is something that tends to get lost in politics today. Things are personal, and I am not trying to say, "Cease having convictions!" But at some point we must realize that the philosophies associated with both abortion and homosexuality do not lay out how to run all aspects of a government. Single or dual issue platforms are not the answer. Just because one candidate matches our position on the two does not mean that he or she is not a fool, unqualified, or corrupt. So often we believe that if we project our morals into the national arena that the world will see the light. Many times we (this makes me responsible as well) fail to realize that even though we champion a cause, we can run over individuals and leave our witness somewhere behind us in the dust.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have been struggling over "rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar's" and how little and how much Jesus mentioned the politics of the time. I have been thinking about law, etc. again. What is the balance between policy and love? It seems as though Jesus has the pattern of getting angry at the Jews/Church and coming down hard on them, yet gently addressing the gentiles. I am working on the ideas of Christians in politics, government and law, because I am so inspired and awakened by the challenges they presents yet, I am also fearful of how competitive I become and prideful I am. That is what Washington lives on. I have been struggling with the desire to be known and great or to be known only in Christ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113702992484478166?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113702992484478166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113702992484478166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113702992484478166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113702992484478166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/alito.html' title='Alito...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113691354798570558</id><published>2006-01-10T11:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T10:10:39.676-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nashville...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So our trip to Nashville was amazing. I learned a but more how prideful and selfish I really am...oh and did I mention lazy? One of the biggest things for me was meeting Jesse. Three of us were going to watch "Tip of the spear" or whatever the title of the new movie about Jim Elliot and Nate Saint is called. Since the showing was late, starting at 1130 and we hadn't had much sleep, we decided to take the trek back to the hostel we were staying at to get some sleep. Yeah, We stayed at this amazing Hostel in Nashville. The Owner is really great guy and has some wonderful interactions with the international refugee community, but that is for a later time. On the way out we rounded the corner and were asked by a homeless man to pray for him. Anyway he didn't really want us to pray for him, but to talk. I wasn't really partial to the idea, but as 5 minutes turned into 45, my worldview was rocked by this drunk homeless man named Jesse. Ask me about it, my heart really broke for Jesse.&lt;br /&gt;Jesse the XXXCHURCH and Invisible Children. Check them out (Jesse will be harder to find...). Those two organizations are taking issues that are many times taboo and addressing them head-on. I think in some ways they are going too far with their campaigns, but I have such a passion for groups addressing the lie of Pornography.  I was able to hear one of the goofy founders speak in Nashville before he hopped on a flight to the Expo. I found it interesting how often people that work in that area (porn) are abandoned by Christians as lost causes. Jesus does love porn stars regardless of whether we choose to express that love. I am not saying that he embraces what they do, no way, but His love for me is just the same as His love for them.  Why would someone give themselves over completely for someone that is only going to run away? only going to find another to love? only going to willfully hurt them? I do that. I run away find other loves and willfully choose to hurt. I guess I just think it is admirable that someone choses to go and address the issue.&lt;br /&gt;You know the irony of this blog? I swore I wouldn't use it as a thing to preach from...oops. I really hate it when people do. Sorry. I am really excited about these things and that is rare. Anyway, check out the links I just added. The film "Invisible Children" ( I am going to buy one) is going to be touring around at different campus locals from now on. Check times and dates. It has been said by Bono and others that our generation is going to be judged on whether or not we helped africa (not in a white man's burden sense) or continued to isolate them. As having been, once you go to africa, you will never be the same. It has a strange pull back. These guys are noteworthy because they are not randomly throwing money ot the problems for the corrupt to exploit (UN), rather they are sponsoring indivdual children to get them educations in the country of Uganda so that these children have a hope, but also are in the position to rise into places of leadership. This is a plan that can work. Well I am spent...I will proof-read and write more soon. My big challenge is to live like I am actually redeemed. I am such a negative person and that has to change. Anywho, take care eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113691354798570558?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113691354798570558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113691354798570558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113691354798570558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113691354798570558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/nashville.html' title='Nashville...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113675671572583809</id><published>2006-01-08T16:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T16:45:15.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Don't blame the darkness for being dark, blame the light for not shining on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113675671572583809?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113675671572583809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113675671572583809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113675671572583809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113675671572583809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/dont-blame-darkness-for-being-dark.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113612215766093527</id><published>2006-01-01T08:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T08:29:17.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back and Gone...again</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Hey all. Happy New Year. I just Got back in from Cinci and the Tegge wedding. It was a blast. Beautiful to say the least. Now I am off to roadtrip down to Nashville. Maybe I will get time here in Va sometime soon before I head back down to Kentucky. Yes, but the travel is great. I will write about the flights later. And I must say Ohio: Yay for the Huge Jesus statue. I couldn't help but be shocked. Until an unspecified time. Take care all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113612215766093527?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113612215766093527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113612215766093527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113612215766093527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113612215766093527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2006/01/back-and-goneagain.html' title='Back and Gone...again'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113571748542472410</id><published>2005-12-27T15:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-27T16:04:45.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmm...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So I have been thinking and, enjoy the irony, realizing that I worry far to much about what other people think of me. This has been stealing my joy and I am not to happy with that theft. Somewhat not related but containing the word happy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Men can only be happy when they do not assume that the object of life is happiness.&lt;br /&gt;—George Orwell&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113571748542472410?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113571748542472410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113571748542472410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113571748542472410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113571748542472410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/hmm.html' title='Hmm...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113501816200256452</id><published>2005-12-19T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T13:49:22.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,&lt;br /&gt;Enwrought with golden and silver light,&lt;br /&gt;The blue and the dim and the dark cloths&lt;br /&gt;Of night and light and the half-light,&lt;br /&gt;I would spread the cloths under your feet:&lt;br /&gt;But I, being poor, have only my dreams;&lt;br /&gt;I have spread my dreams under your feet;&lt;br /&gt;Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Yeats&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113501816200256452?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113501816200256452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113501816200256452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113501816200256452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113501816200256452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/had-i-heavens-embroidered-cloths.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113485813502831934</id><published>2005-12-17T16:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-18T14:17:13.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Charlie Brown, Richmond, and deer...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If you have ever heard the opening lines to "A Charlie Brown Christmas" then you know how I have traditionally felt about Christmas. I was sitting at home last night and in between reading and sleeping, I watched the traditional Charlie Brown. This semester has been a very different one. They always are, but heading home this semester has actually felt "more right" than it ever has before. It was a longer drive than usual (by three hours) and the rain, snow, ice and sleet made the twelve (usually 8.5) hour drive especially draining. I am not the biggest fan of Richmond, but I was so excited to hit 295 at about 12am. I was really excited to see those green signs saying Richmond/Washington.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I did have that post that I wanted to write a while back about home. I have considered myself more of a nomad than someone with a home. I have never really ever gotten homesick. I have never really felt compelled to be "there". Yet, this year, home is home. That may not make sense to most, but maybe it will so some. I am happy to finally have felt that "I really want to go home" feeling. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;SO I have covered Charlie Brown, Richmond...oh yeah the deer. Don't hate me, but I saw my first deer hit by a van right in front of us today. We were on the way back from Fredericksburg listening to Brian Regan (I finally hook-ed my parents) and we saw two deer start out onto 95. The first was hit really hard and the second made it. I was somewhat in shock, but I distinctly remember thinking, "Deer don't have feathers." I think it is really hilarious now. Certainly it is slightly morbid, but just so you know: Deer don't have feathers. Ask me about it later if you feel brave enough. Take Luck. And if I don't post 'til I get back to campus Happy Christ-year. Merry New-Mas. eh....Merry Christmas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113485813502831934?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113485813502831934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113485813502831934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113485813502831934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113485813502831934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/charlie-brown-richmond-and-deer.html' title='Charlie Brown, Richmond, and deer...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113460742942926382</id><published>2005-12-14T19:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T19:44:48.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hearing and Seeing...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They said to the woman, "We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    "I know that You can do all things,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;         And that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    'Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;         "Therefore I have declared that which I did not understand,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;         Things &lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;too wonderful for me, which I did not know." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    'Hear, now, and I will speak;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;         I will ask You, and You instruct me.' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    "I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;         But now my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;sup style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;eye sees You; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    Therefore I retract,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;         And I repent in dust and ashes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I know that my Redeemer lives, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And after my skin has been destroyed,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yet in my flesh I will see God;I myself will see him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with my own eyes—I, and not another.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How my heart yearns within me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113460742942926382?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113460742942926382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113460742942926382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113460742942926382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113460742942926382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/hearing-and-seeing.html' title='Hearing and Seeing...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113458348280901916</id><published>2005-12-14T13:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T13:04:42.816-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;"We need not be ashamed that our hearts ache; that we need and thirst and hunger for much more.  All of our hearts ache.  All of our hearts are at some level unsatisfied and longing.  It is our insatiable need for more that drives us to our God."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113458348280901916?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113458348280901916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113458348280901916' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113458348280901916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113458348280901916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/we-need-not-be-ashamed-that-our-hearts.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113454157763670508</id><published>2005-12-14T01:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T01:26:17.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a Thought...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;"One who breaks open the way will go up before them: they will break through the gate and go out. The king will pass through before them, the LORD at their head."&lt;br /&gt;I have been really thinking about home. What is it? I have moved constantly. To me there have always been many unknowns (even in the close future). So often this verse could be interpreted as a triumphant claim. I thought that for a while. Thinking about it now, I see it more as a comfort and a promise.  Best wishes to all transfering, graduating, or leaving for new things. Thanks for your friendships and the memories!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113454157763670508?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113454157763670508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113454157763670508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113454157763670508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113454157763670508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/just-thought.html' title='Just a Thought...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113436887620769858</id><published>2005-12-12T01:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T14:20:25.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Once again I am not doing what I am supposed to, but I had a conversation in a coffee shop last night that got me thinking. I was asked where home was for me. That is a fuzzy place now. I have my parents house. School, which my mother hates me calling home, and the trail of states that I have lived in. The longest that I have lived in one place is five years. I asked the woman how travelling a lot affected her ability to have depth in her relationships because I ha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ve noticed that I make friendships that grow deep quickly, but I know I will leave in four years so I stay at that initial depth. it is a pschological defense or something like that, but that is a bullcrap excuse for being scared to really invest in the people in my life and commit. For those of you that have been screwed by my lack of heart, I am sorry.&lt;br /&gt;Why the change? haha. Why not? I have realized that I have lived half a life and I have marginalized those around me. My love has been strewn with egoism and void of much altruism (philosophy huh?). I should be known by the love that I am exhibiting not denying. When we love, we open ourselves up to pain. To hurt. To loss.&lt;br /&gt;So what does this have to do with "home"? Well maybe my lack of reckless love and trust (taking the pain as well as joy) forces me to a nomadic life. Anyway, Cheers to all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113436887620769858?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113436887620769858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113436887620769858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113436887620769858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113436887620769858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/home.html' title='Home....'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113433754416430076</id><published>2005-12-11T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T16:45:44.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun at 2 AM...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/IMG_4685.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/IMG_4685.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Ashleigh, Ben, me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113433754416430076?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113433754416430076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113433754416430076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113433754416430076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113433754416430076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/fun-at-2-am.html' title='Fun at 2 AM...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113432255768749688</id><published>2005-12-11T12:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-17T16:08:36.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Obruni..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/019_19_0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/019_19_0001.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was thinking about Ghana and looking through our pictures. I liked this one, but never really looked all that closely at it. I just noticed that I was in the picture. I was completely oblivious of the boy following me. Sure I am the weird "obruni" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;("Obruni, how are you? I am fine. Thank you." That is what the kids chanted in groups us. It was humorous to hear and see.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;, but now that it is cold I really miss Ghana badly. The people were amazing. I loved it there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113432255768749688?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113432255768749688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113432255768749688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113432255768749688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113432255768749688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/obruni.html' title='Obruni..'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113426752474766944</id><published>2005-12-10T19:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T19:15:34.213-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts on Love and maybe Loss...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/320/myblue.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is a funny thing isn't it? We are told to do it. We chase it. We lay all at its alter. To me itmany times seems a cheap idol. Like it has lost its meaning or has had its meaning slandered. When someone says they are searching for love what do they mean? Often I feel as though the word love should be substituted with meaning or acceptance. We give ourselves in search for meaning and acceptance which are not love, just a clever cover for them. Don't get me wrong. I have loved one person so, for lack of a better word, purely it hurt. Holding onto her was not the good thin for her, so I surendered her reluctantly. A philosophical definition that has been consistantly held. It that Love is:&lt;br /&gt;The desire for the good of the beloved.&lt;br /&gt;The desire for union with the bloved.&lt;br /&gt;I am asserting that a desire for the good must sometimes mean that our desire for union gets ruffed ("to play trump" using the word as reference to actually showing love/winning a card game) by the good of the beloved. So there is a heirarchy of those two "love" desires. It really stinks. Sometimes love must overcome our desires so that it can win. This can mean not being accepted. Not finding meaning there. I know it might be hard to swallow, and it has been at times for me, but meaning found in someone (short of Jesus Christ) is going to disappoint you. If you find your meaning in someone that fails you, have you lost your meaning? For so long I though I needed someone. I want someone, and hopefully I recognize that person and fight for her. I think I am starting to ramble, but my point is, when you find someone you care about deeply, dare I say love, who cares about you deeply and cares about you so much that they are willing to let you leave them for your own good (in spite of their deep love or you) ...well. What do you think? I think maybe you should hang onto them. This might be my justification of a past act. It could be my philosophy of Love. Or it could show my lack of fighting spirit for the ones I love. Or it could be my way of mourning. Or.... haha. Almost though i was going to keep going? Tell me what you think about any of this. The beauty of finals is to think about anything that does not have to do with what you should be doing: cramming/studying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113426752474766944?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113426752474766944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113426752474766944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113426752474766944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113426752474766944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/thoughts-on-love-and-maybe-loss.html' title='Thoughts on Love and maybe Loss...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113405792056675272</id><published>2005-12-08T10:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-08T11:10:49.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleet and the start of finals crunch...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Does not&lt;sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;wisdom call,&lt;br /&gt;And understanding lift up her voice?&lt;br /&gt;On top of the heights beside the way,&lt;br /&gt;Where the paths meet, she takes her stand;&lt;br /&gt;Beside the gates, at the opening to the city,&lt;br /&gt;At the entrance of the doors, she cries out:&lt;br /&gt;"To you, O men, I call,&lt;br /&gt;And my voice is to the sons of men.&lt;br /&gt;"O naive ones, understand prudence;&lt;br /&gt;And, O fools, understand wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;"Listen, for I will speak noble things;&lt;br /&gt;And the opening of my lips will reveal &lt;sup&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;right things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113405792056675272?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113405792056675272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113405792056675272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113405792056675272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113405792056675272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/sleet-and-start-of-finals-crunch.html' title='Sleet and the start of finals crunch...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113392310035637738</id><published>2005-12-06T21:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T21:45:29.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/013_13.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/013_13.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113392310035637738?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113392310035637738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113392310035637738' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113392310035637738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113392310035637738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/blog-post_06.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113379957714933566</id><published>2005-12-05T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T12:37:17.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts about my selfishness...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;    Things are actually tight financially. How will things work out? After hearing from the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:state&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Mississippi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; team today, I realized how much excess I have in my life. People have nothing in our own country and I am complaining.&lt;br /&gt;    Christmas is coming and the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placetype&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Gulf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:placetype&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Coast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;is still devastated. When my mother asked me what I want, I told her I would get back with her. It is so easy for me to get caught up in material possessions. How about a desire to help that translates into action? I want so many things that are meaningless and, as Solomon rightly described them, "a chasing after the wind". I feel so foolish when I lose track of the things that really matter in life. I trade Real Life for that which is manufactured for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/020_20_0001.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte vml 1]&gt;&lt;v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"&gt;  &lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;  &lt;v:formulas&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;   &lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;  &lt;/v:formulas&gt;  &lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;  &lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt; &lt;/v:shapetype&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/020_20_0001.jpg" style="'width:300pt;height:225pt'" button="t"&gt;  &lt;v:imagedata src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\Student\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtml1\01\clip_image001.jpg" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/020_20_0001.jpg"&gt; &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !vml]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;     I understand that every need is not one I am morally obligated to meet. Yet, should I stop with that statement? Life is about relationships. In &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Ghana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; this summer, our team had visited a woman that was dying of AIDS alone in her apartment. I was struggling with this as we were walking through a market. I felt so inadequate. I was frustrated with God and asking him why her, and why me? I was so focused on myself and how I felt about the situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/020_20_0001.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/020_20_0001.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Then I felt a small hand in mine. I looked down, and there was a Ghanaian boy standing there (pictured above). We were in an area of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Ghana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;that did not speak Twi or English, so we just looked at each other, held hands and tried to communicate through a local photographer that was following us that day. I found out that he was a Muslim boy named Anam. This boy changed how I view the world. God used a Muslim child that had a different religion, culture, language and skin color to show His love to me. I don't know why this came out, but take it if you want. God is so much bigger than us. I want these words to me mine:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"&gt;Whom have I in heaven but You?&lt;br /&gt;And besides You, I desire nothing on earth.&lt;br /&gt;My flesh and my heart may fail,&lt;br /&gt;But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever...&lt;br /&gt;But as for me, the nearness of God is my good;&lt;br /&gt;I have made the Lord GOD my refuge,&lt;br /&gt;That I may tell of all Your works.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Psalm 73:25-26, 28&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113379957714933566?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113379957714933566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113379957714933566' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113379957714933566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113379957714933566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/thoughts-about-my-selfishness.html' title='Thoughts about my selfishness...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113379319941201719</id><published>2005-12-05T09:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-05T09:33:19.416-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/03_06_0.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/400/03_06_0.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;St. Augustine, Florida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113379319941201719?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113379319941201719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113379319941201719' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113379319941201719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113379319941201719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/st.html' title=''/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19579818.post-113374611521248398</id><published>2005-12-04T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-04T20:28:35.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well everything has a start, and an end...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Well everything has a start, and an end. Today I am joining the countless masses that engage in blogging and so ends my protest of blogs in general. So I guess I will figure out its direction soon, but for now, a favorite quote of mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way."&lt;br /&gt;                                                -Donald Miller&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19579818-113374611521248398?l=dbraddy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/feeds/113374611521248398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19579818&amp;postID=113374611521248398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113374611521248398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19579818/posts/default/113374611521248398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dbraddy.blogspot.com/2005/12/well-everything-has-start-and-end.html' title='Well everything has a start, and an end...'/><author><name>david</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02609243532205817977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4079/1940/1600/myblue.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
