Whispers Beneath the Moon

In a meadow where the wildflowers glowed blue beneath the light of the full moon, two sisters stood side by side, their dark hair flowing like rivers of night. They were wrapped in sacred robes woven by their grandmother, stitched with strands of spirit and sky.

Their names were Taya and Suni, daughters of the Moonwatcher Clan, known for their wisdom in reading the stars and listening to the whispers of the land. Tonight was no ordinary night. It was the Night of Remembering, when the veil between the past and present grew thin and the voices of the ancestors could be heard in the rustle of pine and the shimmer of stardust.

As they gazed at the glowing moon, Taya whispered, “Can you hear them, Suni?”

The younger sister nodded slowly. “They are singing.”

The sky above swirled in purples and blues, the stars glittering like ancient eyes watching over them. A faint melody filled the air—not with instruments, but with memory. It was the song their mother used to sing at bedtime, the one passed down for generations. A lullaby of healing, of journeys across forests, of waiting under the moon for signs from the Great Spirit.

Taya closed her eyes and placed a hand over her heart. “They are guiding us,” she said softly. “We are not alone.”

Behind them, the forest stood like guardians, tall and silent. The sisters knew that tomorrow would bring challenges. The world outside their homeland was changing, forgetting, moving too fast. But here—beneath the moon—they remembered who they were.

Daughters of the Earth. Carriers of old songs. Watchers of the sky.

And in that sacred moment, the night sky pulsed with color, the stars danced a little brighter, and the spirits smiled—knowing that the story would live on through these two young souls.

#nativeamericanwisdom

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Morning, August 4

"The people that do know their God shall be strong." Daniel 11:32

Every believer understands that to know God is the highest and best form of knowledge; and this spiritual knowledge is a source of strength to the Christian. It strengthens his faith. Believers are constantly spoken of in the Scriptures as being persons who are enlightened and taught of the Lord; they are said to "have an unction from the Holy One," and it is the Spirit's peculiar office to lead them into all truth, and all this for the increase and the fostering of their faith. Knowledge strengthens love, as well as faith. Knowledge opens the door, and then through that door we see our Saviour. Or, to use another similitude, knowledge paints the portrait of Jesus, and when we see that portrait then we love Him, we cannot love a Christ whom we do not know, at least, in some degree. If we know but little of the excellences of Jesus, what He has done for us, and what He is doing now, we cannot love Him much; but the more we know Him, the more we shall love Him. Knowledge also strengthens hope. How can we hope for a thing if we do not know of its existence? Hope may be the telescope, but till we receive instruction, our ignorance stands in the front of the glass, and we can see nothing whatever; knowledge removes the interposing object, and when we look through the bright optic glass we discern the glory to be revealed, and anticipate it with joyous confidence. Knowledge supplies us reasons for patience. How shall we have patience unless we know something of the sympathy of Christ, and understand the good which is to come out of the correction which our heavenly Father sends us? Nor is there one single grace of the Christian which, under God, will not be fostered and brought to perfection by holy knowledge. How important, then, is it that we should grow not only in grace, but in the "knowledge" of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, August 3

"But as He went." Luke 8:42

Jesus is passing through the throng to the house of Jairus, to raise the ruler's dead daughter; but He is so profuse in goodness that He works another miracle while upon the road. While yet this rod of Aaron bears the blossom of an unaccomplished wonder, it yields the ripe almonds of a perfect work of mercy. It is enough for us, if we have some one purpose, straightway to go and accomplish it; it were imprudent to expend our energies by the way. Hastening to the rescue of a drowning friend, we cannot afford to exhaust our strength upon another in like danger. It is enough for a tree to yield one sort of fruit, and for a man to fulfil his own peculiar calling. But our Master knows no limit of power or boundary of mission. He is so prolific of grace, that like the sun which shines as it rolls onward in its orbit, His path is radiant with lovingkindness. He is a swift arrow of love, which not only reaches its ordained target, but perfumes the air through which it flies. Virtue is evermore going out of Jesus, as sweet odours exhale from flowers; and it always will be emanating from Him, as water from a sparkling fountain. What delightful encouragement this truth affords us! If our Lord is so ready to heal the sick and bless the needy, then, my soul, be not thou slow to put thyself in His way, that He may smile on thee. Be not slack in asking, if He be so abundant in bestowing. Give earnest heed to His word now, and at all times, that Jesus may speak through it to thy heart. Where He is to be found there make thy resort, that thou mayst obtain His blessing. When He is present to heal, may He not heal thee? But surely He is present even now, for He always comes to hearts which need Him. And dost not thou need Him? Ah, He knows how much! Thou Son of David, turn Thine eye and look upon the distress which is now before Thee, and make Thy suppliant whole.

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Morning, August 3

"The Lamb is the light thereof." Revelation 21:23

Quietly contemplate the Lamb as the light of heaven. Light in Scripture is the emblem of joy. The joy of the saints in heaven is comprised in this: Jesus chose us, loved us, bought us, cleansed us, robed us, kept us, glorified us: we are here entirely through the Lord Jesus. Each one of these thoughts shall be to them like a cluster of the grapes of Eshcol. Light is also the cause of beauty. Nought of beauty is left when light is gone. Without light no radiance flashes from the sapphire, no peaceful ray proceedeth from the pearl; and thus all the beauty of the saints above comes from Jesus. As planets, they reflect the light of the Sun of Righteousness; they live as beams proceeding from the central orb. If He withdrew, they must die; if His glory were veiled, their glory must expire. Light is also the emblem of knowledge. In heaven our knowledge will be perfect, but the Lord Jesus Himself will be the fountain of it. Dark providences, never understood before, will then be clearly seen, and all that puzzles us now will become plain to us in the light of the Lamb. Oh! what unfoldings there will be and what glorifying of the God of love! Light also means manifestation. Light manifests. In this world it doth not yet appear what we shall be. God's people are a hidden people, but when Christ receives His people into heaven, He will touch them with the wand of His own love, and change them into the image of His manifested glory. They were poor and wretched, but what a transformation! They were stained with sin, but one touch of His finger, and they are bright as the sun, and clear as crystal. Oh! what a manifestation! All this proceeds from the exalted Lamb. Whatever there may be of effulgent splendour, Jesus shall be the centre and soul of it all. Oh! to be present and to see Him in His own light, the King of kings, and Lord of lords!

The Weaver of Stars

I stand on the cold stone edge,
in the heart of night,
where light tears through the sky
like an ancient cloth of the Ancestors.

From my hands,
galaxies rise,
soft as the first breath of the world,
carrying my grandmother’s lullaby
for the souls not yet returned.

Each star is a memory—
the gone, the unfinished dreams,
and the things no one remembers
but me.

I am no goddess.
Only the one chosen
to mend the holes in the heavens
with light,
with nameless love,
and with the most beautiful loneliness of humankind.

Serin Alar

#nativeamericanwisdom

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Morning, August 1

"Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of corn." Ruth 2:2

Downcast and troubled Christian, come and glean today in the broad field of promise. Here are abundance of precious promises, which exactly meet thy wants. Take this one: "He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax." Doth not that suit thy case? A reed, helpless, insignificant, and weak, a bruised reed, out of which no music can come; weaker than weakness itself; a reed, and that reed bruised, yet, He will not break thee; but on the contrary, will restore and strengthen thee. Thou art like the smoking flax: no light, no warmth, can come from thee; but He will not quench thee; He will blow with His sweet breath of mercy till He fans thee to a flame. Wouldst thou glean another ear? "Come unto Me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." What soft words! Thy heart is tender, and the Master knows it, and therefore He speaketh so gently to thee. Wilt thou not obey Him, and come to Him even now? Take another ear of corn: "Fear not, thou worm Jacob, I will help thee, saith the Lord and thy Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel." How canst thou fear with such a wonderful assurance as this? Thou mayest gather ten thousand such golden ears as these! "I have blotted out thy sins like a cloud, and like a thick cloud thy transgressions." Or this, "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Or this, "The Spirit and the Bride say, Come, and let him that is athirst come, and whosoever will let him take the water of life freely." Our Master's field is very rich; behold the handfuls. See, there they lie before thee, poor timid believer! Gather them up, make them thine own, for Jesus bids thee take them. Be not afraid, only believe! Grasp these sweet promises, thresh them out by meditation and feed on them with joy.

Hummingbird – The Spirit of Resilience and Light

You are not small.
You are the spark between heartbeats —
The swift flash of spirit that defies the weight of the world.
Born from the breath of the Sun and the whisper of flowers,
You fly not by force, but by faith.

You carry the memory of joy,
The reminder that sweetness can still be found,
Even in places where sorrow grows thick.
Your wings hum like ancient drums,
Beating the rhythm of life,
Of persistence,
Of returning — again and again — to what feeds the soul.

You are the guardian of fleeting moments,
The priestess of the now.
While others chase horizons,
You kiss the light that blooms in a single drop of morning dew.

You are not directionless —
You know exactly where to go.
Across vast distances and violent winds,
You return with purpose,
Bearing the invisible threads of home.

When grief has dulled the world’s colors,
It is you who comes —
A glimmer, a shimmer, a reminder
That beauty still exists
And hope can wear wings.

You do not battle —
You endure.
You do not conquer —
You bless.

To the People,
You were more than a bird.
You were a spirit —
A messenger of love,
A weaver of joy,
A sign that life endures, even in the smallest of forms.

You have never been merely “a hummingbird” —
You are the sacred flicker of resilience,
The bearer of light in darkened skies,
The breath of color in a gray world.

You remind us that gentleness is a kind of power,
And those who move lightly,
Move far.

#nativeamericanwisdom

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, July 31

"And these are the singers... they were employed in that work day and night." 1 Chronicles 9:33

Well was it so ordered in the temple that the sacred chant never ceased: for evermore did the singers praise the Lord, whose mercy endureth for ever. As mercy did not cease to rule either by day or by night, so neither did music hush its holy ministry. My heart, there is a lesson sweetly taught to thee in the ceaseless song of Zion's temple, thou too art a constant debtor, and see thou to it that thy gratitude, like charity, never faileth. God's praise is constant in heaven, which is to be thy final dwelling-place, learn thou to practise the eternal hallelujah. Around the earth as the sun scatters his light, his beams awaken grateful believers to tune their morning hymn, so that by the priesthood of the saints perpetual praise is kept up at all hours, they swathe our globe in a mantle of thanksgiving, and girdle it with a golden belt of song.

The Lord always deserves to be praised for what He is in Himself, for His works of creation and providence, for His goodness towards His creatures, and especially for the transcendent act of redemption, and all the marvellous blessing flowing therefrom. It is always beneficial to praise the Lord; it cheers the day and brightens the night; it lightens toil and softens sorrow; and over earthly gladness it sheds a sanctifying radiance which makes it less liable to blind us with its glare. Have we not something to sing about at this moment? Can we not weave a song out of our present joys, or our past deliverances, or our future hopes? Earth yields her summer fruits: the hay is housed, the golden grain invites the sickle, and the sun tarrying long to shine upon a fruitful earth, shortens the interval of shade that we may lengthen the hours of devout worship. By the love of Jesus, let us be stirred up to close the day with a psalm of sanctified gladness.

The Celestial Stallion

In the ancient lands where the sky meets the earth, there was a legendary horse named Awen. His coat was as dark as the midnight sky, and his body was adorned with glowing symbols, marks of a spiritual connection to the stars above. It was said that Awen was the descendant of the first horses, the ones who were born from the stars to guide the spirits of the earth.

On the night of the Great Alignment, when the stars aligned perfectly with the mountain peaks, Awen would stand alone on the highest cliff, his body glowing with the colors of the cosmos. The glowing symbols on his body were said to be ancient constellations, and each one represented a different element of life — the sun, the moon, the earth, the spirit. It was through these symbols that Awen connected with the universe, acting as a bridge between the celestial and earthly realms.

This night, the air was thick with magic, and the sky shimmered with the light of countless stars. Awen stood proudly, his mane flowing like the river of time, while a stream of glowing energy moved across the land. As the moon rose high above, he let out a soft whinny, and the ground beneath his hooves began to glow in response. It was the sacred path of his ancestors, a path that led toward the unknown, a path of discovery.

As Awen trotted forward, the trail of stardust behind him formed a glowing river, flowing through the valley like a beam of light. The people, the animals, and the spirits watched in awe, for they knew this was a journey that could only be taken by one chosen by the stars.

Awen's journey was not just a physical one, but a spiritual journey. He carried the hopes, dreams, and wisdom of all who had come before him. The night was his canvas, and the stars, his guide. As the glowing symbols danced on his body, they painted a story of life, of connection, of light and shadow — a reminder that we are all part of the same cosmic dance, guided by the spirit of the earth and the stars.

#nativeamericanwisdom

Job
Chapter 3

1 After this opened Job his mouth, and cursed his day.

2 And Job spake, and said,

3 Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said, There is a man child conceived.

4 Let that day be darkness; let not God regard it from above, neither let the light shine upon it.

5 Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it; let a cloud dwell upon it; let the blackness of the day terrify it.

6 As for that night, let darkness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto the days of the year, let it not come into the number of the months.

7 Lo, let that night be solitary, let no joyful voice come therein.

8 Let them curse it that curse the day, who are ready to raise up their mourning.

9 Let the stars of the twilight thereof be dark; let it look for light, but have none; neither let it see the dawning of the day:

10 Because it shut not up the doors of my mother's womb, nor hid sorrow from mine eyes.

11 Why died I not from the womb? why did I not give up the ghost when I came out of the belly?

12 Why did the knees prevent me? or why the breasts that I should suck?

13 For now should I have lain still and been quiet, I should have slept: then had I been at rest,

14 With kings and counsellors of the earth, which built desolate places for themselves;

15 Or with princes that had gold, who filled their houses with silver:

16 Or as an hidden untimely birth I had not been; as infants which never saw light.

17 There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at rest.

18 There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the oppressor.

19 The small and great are there; and the servant is free from his master.

20 Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul;

21 Which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid treasures;

22 Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when they can find the grave?

23 Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

24 For my sighing cometh before I eat, and my roarings are poured out like the waters.

25 For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.

26 I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.

I will be posting what I have in my emails from people that I followed on substack

Introducing “Same Stars (We Belong to Light)”
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Mother and Child — A River That Never Runs Dry

A mother is the first sun we ever know,
the warm light that pours into our hearts
long before we have words to name it.
On the crimson land where winds whisper old stories through stone,
She walks with her child.
No need for words.
Only stillness,
and the rhythm of hearts beating in harmony.
The blanket she wraps around her daughter
is woven with the voices of ancestors—
a lullaby passed down through hands
that once danced beneath full moons.
The child leans into her—like stream to mountain,
like flame to the hand that guards it.
No explanations.
No conditions.
Only belonging.
She doesn’t teach strength through commands.
She lives it—
showing that strength can hold tears,
and gentleness is a kind of warrior's grace.
And when the child grows,
walking forward on her own path,
the mother stays behind—never holding,
only protecting with prayers whispered into the wind.
A prayer strong enough
to carry her child for a lifetime.

#nativeamericanwisdom

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, July 29

"All that the Father giveth Me shall come to Me." John 6:37

This declaration involves the doctrine of election: there are some whom the Father gave to Christ. It involves the doctrine of effectual calling: these who are given must and shall come; however stoutly they may set themselves against it, yet they shall be brought out of darkness into God's marvellous light. It teaches us the indispensable necessity of faith"; for even those who are given to Christ are not saved except they come to Jesus. Even they must come, for there is no other way to heaven but by the door, Christ Jesus. All that the Father gives to our Redeemer must come to Him, therefore none can come to heaven except they come to Christ.
Oh! the power and majesty which rest in the words "shall come." He does not say they have power to come, nor they may come if they will, but they "shall come." The Lord Jesus doth by His messengers, His word, and His Spirit, sweetly and graciously compel men to come in that they may eat of His marriage supper; and this He does, not by any violation of the free agency of man, but by the power of His grace. I may exercise power over another man's will, and yet that other man's will may be perfectly free, because the constraint is exercised in a manner accordant with the laws of the human mind. Jehovah Jesus knows how, by irresistible arguments addressed to the understanding, by mighty reasons appealing to the affections, and by the mysterious influence of His Holy Spirit operating upon all the powers and passions of the soul, so to subdue the whole man, that whereas he was once rebellious, he yields cheerfully to His government, subdued by sovereign love. But how shall those be known whom God hath chosen? By this result: that they do willingly and joyfully accept Christ, and come to Him with simple and unfeigned faith, resting upon Him as all their salvation and all their desire. Reader, have you thus come to Jesus?

The Sky Remembers Her

Her hair flows like river smoke,
brushed with feathers,
whispering stories
The stars once told the earth.

In her silence,
butterflies gather—
not to land,
but to listen.

She is not wind,
Yet every breath she takes
shifts the sky,
soft as prayer, old as moonlight.

The sky remembers her—
not as a name,
But as a song
carried by wings.

Serin Alar

#nativeamericanwisdom

Epstein’s “little black book” & Aspen gatherings Former US President Bill Clinton, a prominent Aspen speaker, appeared both in Epstein’s book and on the scandalous Lolita Express flight logs.
https://ayetv.substack.com/p/epsteins-little-black-book-and-aspen?publication_id=2540510&post_id=168724379&isFreemail=true&r=1maoyr&triedRedirect=true&utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

Where the Moon Whispers Peace

I stand beneath the full white moon,
It's light falling like a prayer.
Beside me, the white deer waits—
not as a beast, but as a blessing.

She looks to the sky,
and the stars answer,
leaving paw prints of light
that drift down between us
like snow made of spirit.

I do not speak,
and yet I am heard.
The earth beneath my feet is soft—
it knows my name.
The sky above wraps me
in the voice of my ancestors.

In this dream, there is no fear.
No fire of anger,
no hunger of greed.
Only the hum of life,
and the soft heartbeat of the land.

This is the world I dream of:
where we walk with the deer,
listen to the wind,
and live
in the stillness
of what is sacred.

Serin Alar

#nativeamericanwisdom

Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening Devotions

Morning, July 25

"He left his garment in her hand, and fled, and got him out." Genesis 39:12

In contending with certain sins there remains no mode of victory but by flight. The ancient naturalists wrote much of basilisks, whose eyes fascinated their victims and rendered them easy victims; so the mere gaze of wickedness puts us in solemn danger. He who would be safe from acts of evil must haste away from occasions of it. A covenant must be made with our eyes not even to look upon the cause of temptation, for such sins only need a spark to begin with and a blaze follows in an instant. Who would wantonly enter the leper's prison and sleep amid its horrible corruption? He only who desires to be leprous himself would thus court contagion. If the mariner knew how to avoid a storm, he would do anything rather than run the risk of weathering it. Cautious pilots have no desire to try how near the quicksand they can sail, or how often they may touch a rock without springing a leak; their aim is to keep as nearly as possible in the midst of a safe channel.

This day I may be exposed to great peril, let me have the serpent's wisdom to keep out of it and avoid it. The wings of a dove may be of more use to me today than the jaws of a lion. It is true I may be an apparent loser by declining evil company, but I had better leave my cloak than lose my character; it is not needful that I should be rich, but it is imperative upon me to be pure. No ties of friendship, no chains of beauty, no flashings of talent, no shafts of ridicule must turn me from the wise resolve to flee from sin. The devil I am to resist and he will flee from me, but the lusts of the flesh, I must flee, or they will surely overcome me. O God of holiness preserve thy Josephs, that Madam Bubble bewitch them not with her vile suggestions. May the horrible trinity of the world, the flesh, and the devil, never overcome us!

Woven in Color

Not just colors—
but prayers woven in red ochre,
stories told in turquoise light,
songs etched in the black of night
and the white of sacred snow.

Each thread is a direction.
Each hue is a spirit.
Yellow—the rising sun,
a path for beginnings.
Blue—the sky’s breath,
where eagles soar with names unspoken.
Red—the blood of earth and kin,
still pulsing in the drums.
Black—the depth of knowing,
the shadow that teaches.
White—the light of silence,
where ancestors sit and listen.

These are not ornaments—
they are memory.
They are warning.
They are blessing.
A cloak of cosmos,
wrapped around a people
who dance,
even when the world forgets their song.

#nativeamericanwisdom

Serin Alar

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, July 24

"His camp is very great." Joel 2:11

Consider, my soul, the mightiness of the Lord who is thy glory and defence. He is a man of war, Jehovah is His name. All the forces of heaven are at His beck, legions wait at His door, cherubim and seraphim;, watchers and holy ones, principalities and powers, are all attentive to His will. If our eyes were not blinded by the ophthalmia of the flesh, we should see horses of fire and chariots of fire round about the Lord's beloved. The powers of nature are all subject to the absolute control of the Creator: stormy wind and tempest, lightning and rain, and snow, and hail, and the soft dews and cheering sunshine, come and go at His decree. The bands of Orion He looseth, and bindeth the sweet influences of the Pleiades. Earth, sea, and air, and the places under the earth, are the barracks for Jehovah's great armies; space is His camping ground, light is His banner, and flame is His sword. When He goeth forth to war, famine ravages the land, pestilence smites the nations, hurricane sweeps the sea, tornado shakes the mountains, and earthquake makes the solid world to tremble. As for animate creatures, they all own His dominion, and from the great fish which swallowed the prophet, down to "all manner of flies," which plagued the field of Zoan, all are His servants, and like the palmer-worm, the caterpillar, and the cankerworm, are squadrons of His great army, for His camp is very great. My soul, see to it that thou be at peace with this mighty King, yea, more, be sure to enlist under His banner, for to war against Him is madness, and to serve Him is glory. Jesus, Immanuel, God with us, is ready to receive recruits for the army of the Lord: if I am not already enlisted let me go to Him ere I sleep, and beg to be accepted through His merits; and if I be already, as I hope I am, a soldier of the cross, let me be of good courage; for the enemy is powerless compared with my Lord, whose camp is very great.

Whispers of the Wolf Spirit

As the sun sank into the cradle of the mountains, fire-kissing the lake with its final breath, a woman stood in stillness by the shore. Her name was Nayeli—“I love you” in the old tongue—and she was known as the Keeper of Echoes.

She wore robes etched with birds of the sky and dreams of the forest. Her heartbeat moved in rhythm with the earth, and her breath rose and fell with the wind. At her side stood the wolf—silent, fierce, eternal. His name was Shunkaha, the Spirit Who Walks Between.

Nayeli was born under a moon that wept rain and stars, a sign that she would speak not only with people but with the wild. From a young age, animals came to her like old friends returning home. The hawk circled above her. The deer bowed before her. And the wolf... the wolf never left her side.

It was said her voice could calm storms, and that when she closed her eyes at dusk, she listened to the voices of her ancestors through the howls of the pack. She did not command the wolf. She listened. She did not rule the wild. She walked with it.

One day, a drought came—drying rivers, silencing birdsong, cracking the land’s memory. While many prayed, Nayeli acted. With Shunkaha at her side, she followed the old canoe trails into forgotten forest paths. There, she sang the sacred songs—songs her grandmother once whispered over firelight.

And the land listened.

The rains returned. The lakes filled. The trees bowed low with new leaves. And on nights like this, when the sun melts into water and wolves stand guard at the edge of dreams, the elders smile and say:

“Nayeli walks with the wolf still. And in her silence, the world remembers how to breathe.”

#nativeamericanwisdom

Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, July 21

"Why go I mourning?" Psalm 42:9

Canst thou answer this, believer? Canst thou find any reason why thou art so often mourning instead of rejoicing? Why yield to gloomy anticipations? Who told thee that the night would never end in day? Who told thee that the sea of circumstances would ebb out till there should be nothing left but long leagues of the mud of horrible poverty? Who told thee that the winter of thy discontent would proceed from frost to frost, from snow, and ice, and hail, to deeper snow, and yet more heavy tempest of despair? Knowest thou not that day follows night, that flood comes after ebb, that spring and summer succeed winter? Hope thou then! Hope thou ever! For God fails thee not. Dost thou not know that thy God loves thee in the midst of all this? Mountains, when in darkness hidden, are as real as in day, and God's love is as true to thee now as it was in thy brightest moments. No father chastens always: thy Lord hates the rod as much as thou dost; He only cares to use it for that reason which should make thee willing to receive it, namely, that it works thy lasting good. Thou shalt yet climb Jacob's ladder with the angels, and behold Him who sits at the top of it- thy covenant God. Thou shalt yet, amidst the splendours of eternity, forget the trials of time, or only remember them to bless the God who led thee through them, and wrought thy lasting good by them. Come, sing in the midst of tribulation. Rejoice even while passing through the furnace. Make the wilderness to blossom like the rose! Cause the desert to ring with thine exulting joys, for these light afflictions will soon be over, and then "for ever with the Lord," thy bliss shall never wane.

"Faint not nor fear, His arms are near,
He changeth not, and thou art dear;
Only believe and thou shalt see,
That Christ is all in all to thee."

Always watch for the light

Dark Clouds and Silver Linings
Qurious Political Poems
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Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening Devotions

Morning, July 20

"The earnest of our inheritance." Ephesians 1:14

Oh! what enlightenment, what joys, what consolation, what delight of heart is experienced by that man who has learned to feed on Jesus, and on Jesus alone. Yet the realization which we have of Christ's preciousness is, in this life, imperfect at the best. As an old writer says, "'Tis but a taste!" We have tasted "that the Lord is gracious," but we do not yet know how good and gracious He is, although what we know of His sweetness makes us long for more. We have enjoyed the firstfruits of the Spirit, and they have set us hungering and thirsting for the fulness of the heavenly vintage. We groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption. Here we are like Israel in the wilderness, who had but one cluster from Eshcol, there we shall be in the vineyard. Here we see the manna falling small, like coriander seed, but there shall we eat the bread of heaven and the old corn of the kingdom. We are but beginners now in spiritual education; for although we have learned the first letters of the alphabet, we cannot read words yet, much less can we put sentences together; but as one says, "He that has been in heaven but five minutes, knows more than the general assembly of divines on earth." We have many ungratified desires at present, but soon every wish shall be satisfied; and all our powers shall find the sweetest employment in that eternal world of joy. O Christian, antedate heaven for a few years. Within a very little time thou shalt be rid of all thy trials and thy troubles. Thine eyes now suffused with tears shall weep no longer. Thou shalt gaze in ineffable rapture upon the splendour of Him who sits upon the throne. Nay, more, upon His throne shalt thou sit. The triumph of His glory shall be shared by thee; His crown, His joy, His paradise, these shall be thine, and thou shalt be co-heir with Him who is the heir of all things.

Rise with the Sun

Arms lifted to the breaking sky,
She calls not for herself,
But for the earth beneath her feet,
For the rivers, for the flowers in bloom.

The sun answers in colors—
Red, gold, violet, flame—
A promise that the land lives on,
As long as hearts remember.

Birds spiral in light,
Messengers of hope,
Carrying her song across the hills,
Across the cactus and stone.

No battle cry, no war drums—
Only quiet strength rising like dawn:
We are still here.
We will always be here.

#nativeamericanwisdom