For the longest time I thought “Ebenezer” was a cup. Not just any cup, mind you, one of those old drinking vessels that might also be called goblet or chalice. My reasoning, you see, was all based on the hymn, “Here I raise mine Ebenezer, hither by thy help I’m come.” To my little girl ears, it sounded like someone was proposing a toast, glass in hand to having made it so far. I know better now, but I still feel as if I am far more likely to toast how far I’ve made it than to set a large stone on end. But truthfully, I’m not very likely to do either. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not slighting the role God has had in bringing me as far as I am. And it’s not a lack of gratitude that turns me into being one of the nine lepers who never returned to thank Jesus for his healing. (At least, not always.) Instead, I’ve found that many times I don’t want to draw attention to what God has done for me because I worry it will make others feel as if I am intimating that I am a favor
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Or else someone who wants to really get the attention of junior highers.
Where were you so very privileged as to hear it?
The images that letter conjured... yikes!
He started the letter saying that he, unlike other people who read comics and such, reads the back of detergent bottles while in the outhouse, and that is how he noticed the spider.
I wonder how much I can justify sending him so that he never has to read the back of a detergent bottle again.