<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109</id><updated>2009-02-21T01:09:41.662-05:00</updated><title type='text'>to walk with a limp</title><subtitle type='html'>my travels through the land of the broken</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114883248880050034</id><published>2006-05-28T11:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T17:40:25.333-04:00</updated><title type='text'>my own corner of the world</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/front.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/320/front.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is my own little corner of the world. Her red wooden floors, smudged chalkboard menus and hanging paper lamps escape me as I peer out of my window in the corner of the tiny Annapolis coffee shop. The smell of coffee, pastries and old books lofts though the air as does the crescendo of the brass section playing jazz on the radio in the back of the store.  I look out my window past the water canal known as "ego ally" where many so presumptuously parade their boats. I look beyond the outlying harbors filled with the noise of wind whistling through their rigging as if the sirens were enchantingly singing to come sail their waters and ride upon their waves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is muggy, sweat beads upon my forehead as I sip my hot cup of coffee. Tourists walk by and  stare- first at my motorcycle outside the window, then at me, lowering their gaze to my tattooed arms. They look away. Soon they will scamper off talking about shoes the price of gas and their plans for next labor day. Here I will remain in my tiny, nautical hometown, sipping my overpriced, watered down coffee, thumbing through a worn copy of my paperback sitting contentedly in my own little corner of the world. Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114883248880050034?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114883248880050034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114883248880050034' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114883248880050034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114883248880050034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/05/my-own-corner-of-world.html' title='my own corner of the world'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114754749432053833</id><published>2006-05-13T15:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-13T15:14:47.106-04:00</updated><title type='text'>mudders</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/Digfilm0045_2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/320/Digfilm0045_2.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They are easy to take for granted due to their silent servitude. Today, I am thankful for mine. Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114754749432053833?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114754749432053833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114754749432053833' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114754749432053833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114754749432053833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/05/mudders.html' title='mudders'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114726283593459153</id><published>2006-05-10T07:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T08:07:53.563-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hammers, nails and sore thumbs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/-1764394444.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/-1764394444.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I heard a story once about a man who disciplined his son in such a way, that every time his son said something hurtful to someone he had to hammer a nail into the wood fence nearby their house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while, there was no longer a place to hammer a nail so the son went to him and said "Father, there is no more room for me to carry out my punishment." The father then replied, "Go and remove all the nails." The boy did as he was told and when he was done he looked at the nearly collapsed, hole-ridden fence. He then understood what his father had taught him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we use our words to hurt people, we drive nails into their hearts. When we apologize later, we remove the nail but the deep gashes of hurt still remain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I said I will guard my ways that I may not sin with my tongue... I was mute and silent; I held my peace to no avail, and my distress grew worse. My heart became hot within me, As I mused the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue: O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days: let me know how fleeting I am!" Psalm 39:1-4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless." James 1:26&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, I nailed my last nail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114726283593459153?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114726283593459153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114726283593459153' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114726283593459153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114726283593459153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/05/hammers-nails-and-sore-thumbs.html' title='hammers, nails and sore thumbs'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114655768079711398</id><published>2006-05-02T04:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T04:22:11.146-04:00</updated><title type='text'>air raid!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.assonetart.com/1airstrike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.assonetart.com/1airstrike.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; At 8:00 last night the air raid sirens began to scream all over the Judean Hill Country. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first thought was "Hmmm... Air raid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second thought was "Air raid!?" I was intensely curious so I went outside to see the action... nothing.&lt;a href="http://www.wasp-wwii.org/wasp/images/wwii/airr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.wasp-wwii.org/wasp/images/wwii/airr.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was to commemorate Israel's Memorial Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the Jewish calendar, the next day begins at sunset the night before, this was the cause of my alarm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I write the sirens begin their high-pitch commemoration once more as three low-flying jets scream by. Ahhh Israel, I will miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114655768079711398?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114655768079711398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114655768079711398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114655768079711398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114655768079711398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/05/air-raid.html' title='air raid!'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114647854425558623</id><published>2006-05-01T06:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T06:31:03.073-04:00</updated><title type='text'>reconstruction</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/IMGP0849.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/200/IMGP0849.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; A special word of thanks to Amos and Luke for their continued efforts on improving this site. It all began by ironing out a wrinkle in my code, but it turned into a complete site reconstruction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; There are many new features to this site that you will find helpful and aesthetically pleasing. You can now read "to walk with a limp" in 10 different languages by clicking on the flag of choice above. Contacting me is now easier than ever by selecting the airmail stamp to the left. Also new on this blog will be a quote a week on the sidebar, maybe more if I am so inspired.&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/IMGP1217.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/200/IMGP1217.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; There are still other small improvements and many more to come. Thank you for your support of this site and what it stands for: Commitment to Jesus Christ through written word and silent praxis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114647854425558623?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114647854425558623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114647854425558623' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114647854425558623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114647854425558623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/05/reconstruction.html' title='reconstruction'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114640479447595262</id><published>2006-04-30T09:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T01:36:01.613-04:00</updated><title type='text'>thanks dad!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/hawk1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/hawk1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My Dad just bought me my dream bike. I have wanted this motorcycle since the first time I saw it with him in High School. The conversation went something like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please Dad, can you get it for me?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you turn 18 you can do whatever you like."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only time he ever said this was when I wanted a motorcycle or my ear pierced. &lt;br /&gt;Funny enough he also recently bought me a gold earring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am blessed beyond measure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114640479447595262?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114640479447595262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114640479447595262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114640479447595262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114640479447595262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/thanks-dad.html' title='thanks dad!'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114625337016827370</id><published>2006-04-28T15:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T15:42:50.180-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the only math I ever loved</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/girlsmoney.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/girlsmoney.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my friend Drew worked out on paper what I knew all along. I wish someone had a math equation for why I still liked them. Blessings&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114625337016827370?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114625337016827370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114625337016827370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114625337016827370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114625337016827370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/only-math-i-ever-loved.html' title='the only math I ever loved'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114599320756509913</id><published>2006-04-25T14:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T15:43:04.030-04:00</updated><title type='text'>10:00 am</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/hol1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/hol1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Air raid sirens begin to wail furiously from every hilltop in Israel. As they wind up to an alarming scream every man, woman and child stands in silence, unwilling to move. It is holocaust remembrance day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the sirens started I slowly lowered my head to the ground. The unseen images of horror began to run through my mind and the chills ran up my spine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Hasidic boy on a Warsaw street stands in silence. He too looks painfully at the ground as his Nazi tormentors mock him, sacrilegiously cutting his long locks of hair that trail from under the sides of his tall black hat. My eyes move up to the street to the old man that could have been my father, his legs too weak to hold him up. He is beaten down and spit upon. His subhuman punishment holds no merit to him. He looks up to heaven, whispers, with bleeding mouth  "Shema Yisrael, Adonai elohinu, Adoni ehad." He forcefully breathes his last breath with an unwarranted kick to the stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all line up in front of me at Auschwitz. Their frail bodies sickingly jaundiced, their eyes large and fearful, look up at me and I hesitantly look back into them. They are deep and they speak silently to me. I can't seem to remember, but I have seen the look before. I soon remember as my own eyes filled with tears. Their eyes are filled with more than just the hopelessness of death that awaits them, they are filled with unanswered questions as to why them? Why for so many years have they been tormented? I watch them as they are led away to the showers, they are not fooled, they have not showered in months. Their tormentors mock, and yet the silence of the Jew is deafening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the siren ends I raise my head and relief comes over me in waves. They were not my friends being led away. It was not my family being beaten and shot. It was not my neighbor out there on the street being humiliated. It is easy to disconnect myself from this grim reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We must take time to remember so that we never forget. One day it may be our family that is persecuted. You say it could never happen? It already did, twelve years ago, and the world ignored it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114599320756509913?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114599320756509913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114599320756509913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114599320756509913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114599320756509913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/1000-am.html' title='10:00 am'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114581079080867044</id><published>2006-04-23T12:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T12:46:30.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>God made dirt, so dirt don't hurt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.bibleplaces.com/images/Warrens_Shaft3_tb_n031200_wr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.bibleplaces.com/images/Warrens_Shaft3_tb_n031200_wr.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went on my first archeological excavation. We dug under the City of David in the water system known as Warren's shaft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A summary of my experiences: We moved dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have the attention span to move dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Picture courtesy of Bible Places.com)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114581079080867044?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114581079080867044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114581079080867044' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114581079080867044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114581079080867044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/god-made-dirt-so-dirt-dont-hurt.html' title='God made dirt, so dirt don&apos;t hurt'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114573084784795102</id><published>2006-04-22T14:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T14:29:09.166-04:00</updated><title type='text'>if only complaining could fuel a vehicle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://beneaththedirtyhood.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/gas_prices.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://beneaththedirtyhood.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/gas_prices.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just read a headline on cnn.com that said “Gas Prices Shoot Up 3 cents!” It got me thinking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to take this opportunity to say that Americans complain too much. Forgive me for my rant, but wasn’t it you, the complainer that bought that enormous vehicle in the first place? Didn’t I see you bragging about how BIG it was compared to your neighbors puny SUV?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May I ask why you drive to “go workout?” Then you drive to your weight loss program. Perhaps you may drive to your doctor and act surprised when he tells you that you are unhealthy and that you should exercise more, so you quickly reach for your Gold’s Gym membership attached to your keychain. That is when you notice attached to your keychain is an enormous key that belongs to your enormous gas guzzling vehicle that explains your whole dilemma in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is an idea. Walk! You get your exercise and save money! Take public transportation; you may meet someone worthy of talking to or learn a new language. If all else fails, ride a bicycle, look what happened to the Wright brothers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be idealistic to think that everyone has the luxury of walking. So this week as you are driving to work, or school, or to go work out- think about how blessed you are in the first place. Then thank God for the miracle of a vehicle and the comfort of driving. If this doesn’t satisfy your complacency then remember the other 90% of the world who doesn’t even have enough money to buy a gallon of gas, let alone a car. Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114573084784795102?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114573084784795102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114573084784795102' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114573084784795102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114573084784795102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/if-only-complaining-could-fuel-vehicle.html' title='if only complaining could fuel a vehicle'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114530015551033247</id><published>2006-04-17T14:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T08:36:22.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'>diagnoses: salty blood and land-locked prosthetic legs</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.bellevillechamber.ca/Picture%20Tour/Recreation/art%2036%20sailing%20boats.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.bellevillechamber.ca/Picture%20Tour/Recreation/art%2036%20sailing%20boats.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it is drawing near. I can feel it in the depth of my being. I am beginning to awaken to a salt taste in my mouth. I catch myself singing Jimmy Buffet while using the head. I start saying things such as “I’ll be dining in the galley this evening,” or “shiver me timbers!” In only 18 days I will be smoking my “so long cigar” as I have so many other ports I bid farewell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It draws nigh, I dream about it. Sailing along on a starboard tack, a fresh breeze blowing across my shoulder as I sheet in and pinch up into the wind. A rogue wave slams my starboard bow and sprays my face. I grit my teeth and wash the salt from my mouth with a rum and coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sea beckons me back: the rolling black water, slow flashing lighthouses, stationary stars under my rolling deck, shirtless days and shoeless nights.&lt;br /&gt;A dear friend of mine is leaving the Bahamas to his stern as I write; he will ride the gulf stream north until we meet in less than 3 short weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to a summer with him and his family filled with blue crabs steamed in beer, loud children sucking the marrow out of life (and coincidentally out of me), a hundred new sailors born on the waters of the Potomac and a girl by my side enjoying the life God so graciously blessed us with. Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114530015551033247?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114530015551033247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114530015551033247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114530015551033247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114530015551033247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/diagnoses-salty-blood-and-land-locked.html' title='diagnoses: salty blood and land-locked prosthetic legs'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114483174834435495</id><published>2006-04-12T04:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T05:15:19.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>true sacrifice</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.the-samaritans.com/pas/passover05/SAMARITAN014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.the-samaritans.com/pas/passover05/SAMARITAN014.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, but you say that in Jerusalem is the place where people ought to worship." &lt;br /&gt;Jesus said to her, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem will you worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews.&lt;br /&gt;But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, speaking to Samaritan woman is questioned as to the place of worship for her people. Samaritans sacrificed on Mt. Garazim, not in Jerusalem as the Jews did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 500 Samaritans left in Israel today. They are the only ones who continue to keep the tradition of killing the Passover lamb as seen above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is important for us to remember the timeliness of Christ's death this passion week. He came up to Jerusalem to die. The sacrificial lamb, once and for all who choose to believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I struggled this morning during my quiet time believing that God actually loves me, that he forgave me and continues to forgive me. I don't think I will ever be able to comprehend this kind of love. Even still, His love is here. His pain takes away my shame. His death and resurrection truly is good news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week and in the year ahead let us continue to remind one another of the sacrificial love of God. As believers, reflecting on this sacrifice should never get old, but continue to bring us joy today and 10,000 years into our eternal life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114483174834435495?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114483174834435495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114483174834435495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114483174834435495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114483174834435495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/true-sacrifice.html' title='true sacrifice'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114469594654367768</id><published>2006-04-10T14:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T15:09:04.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'>the weather and other reasons why you should read your bible</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.israelnationalnews.com/data/images/2006/04/05/tornado-s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.israelnationalnews.com/data/images/2006/04/05/tornado-s.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wow, look at that squall line" I remarked to a couple of friends who repaid my curiosity with sarcasm. I was looking north on the Sea of Galilee when I saw the huge storm brushing us as it passed by. "If I was out there on a boat, I would be running for a harbor." The hecklers continued to make fun of me and walked off as I stared at the stormy beast. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days later I read &lt;A HREF="http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/702459.html"&gt;this&lt;/A&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus answered them, "“When it is evening, you say, '‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.' And in the morning, '‘It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening.'’ You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times." Matthew 16:2,3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is my point? I am not really sure... I think it lies somewhere between eschatology, meteorology and a sailor saying "I told you so".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114469594654367768?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114469594654367768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114469594654367768' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114469594654367768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114469594654367768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/weather-and-other-reasons-why-you.html' title='the weather and other reasons why you should read your bible'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114457504278856887</id><published>2006-04-09T05:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T05:32:28.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'>palm sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.globaloutreach.org/images/Art-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.globaloutreach.org/images/Art-3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today begins Passion week. Here in the Holy land passion week is not officially recognized, but instead it is a "pagan" holiday. I forget how much we take our faith for granted in the west. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Jesus decended from the Mount of Olives, men, women and children layed their garmets and palm branches on the ground and cried out "Hosanna", meaning "Save us!" Jesus stopped on his journey and wept over the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time we wept over our city? When was the last time we went into the closet and prayed, not on our own behalf, but on the behalf of those who need salvation? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week, would it be too much for us to look beyond our own selfish passions and set our eyes on His passion to which he came for, to seek and save the lost?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114457504278856887?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114457504278856887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114457504278856887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114457504278856887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114457504278856887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/palm-sunday.html' title='palm sunday'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114457406797853491</id><published>2006-04-09T05:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T05:18:05.020-04:00</updated><title type='text'>a hike that will cost you an arm and a leg.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/IMGP1351.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/IMGP1351.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only in Israel can you find a hiking trail leading you through a mine field. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For your information, someone is killed or injured by a landmine every 15 - 20 minutes. According to the U.N. there are between 105 - 110 million landmines buried in over 64 countries. A low estimate states that some 24,000 men, women and children are killed by landmines every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been said that the leading cause deaths among children worldwide is not starvation, but landmines.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114457406797853491?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114457406797853491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114457406797853491' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114457406797853491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114457406797853491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/04/hike-that-will-cost-you-arm-and-leg.html' title='a hike that will cost you an arm and a leg.'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114348611680361018</id><published>2006-03-27T13:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T15:00:52.163-04:00</updated><title type='text'>driving without headlights</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://lyrics.crossmap.com/images/artists/158.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://lyrics.crossmap.com/images/artists/158.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my heros of the faith, the late Rich Mullins, brought a smile to my face tonight in his story &lt;A HREF="http://www.christianitytoday.com/music/interviews/2003/richmullins-hiatranscript4.html"&gt;driving without headlights.&lt;/A&gt; Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114348611680361018?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114348611680361018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114348611680361018' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114348611680361018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114348611680361018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/driving-without-headlights.html' title='driving without headlights'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114348444795431248</id><published>2006-03-27T13:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T13:34:07.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/IMGP0395.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/IMGP0395.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sick of talking about the word. Every part of my being cries out for it. I believe that the power of love is not involved in receiving but in giving. How is it then that I can talk so much of love and yet love so little?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abba, help me to love more than just myself. Open my eyes to see the love starved world around me and enable me to give that which I have been given in abundance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114348444795431248?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114348444795431248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114348444795431248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114348444795431248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114348444795431248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/love.html' title='love'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114314522384395983</id><published>2006-03-23T15:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-23T15:20:23.856-05:00</updated><title type='text'>jerusalem or bust... hmmm, maybe I should rephrase that?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/IMGP0744.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/400/IMGP0744.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a long week of studying I need some perspective. I am off to Jerusalem (which is a whopping 7 km away) to spend some time alone in the old city for the weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest for me is sitting at the location of Ciaphas' house contemplating our Lord's anguish which brought so much grace to my sinful existence. Or learning how to pray as I sit and watch orthodox Jews at the pouring their heart out to God at the western wall. Perhaps I will spend a bit of time at a graveyard or two looking forward to the life to come. Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114314522384395983?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114314522384395983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114314522384395983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114314522384395983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114314522384395983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/jerusalem-or-bust-hmmm-maybe-i-should.html' title='jerusalem or bust... hmmm, maybe I should rephrase that?'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114288095926168789</id><published>2006-03-20T13:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T14:01:24.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Abba</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.gallery7.org/beard_caroline/artwork/0001_lg_abbafather.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.gallery7.org/beard_caroline/artwork/0001_lg_abbafather.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Help me Abba! Abba help!" came the cry of the two-year-olds whimper penetrating the thick library walls. Normally I would have been distracted, but something sounded familiar in the child's voice. It was reminiscent of my own. Instantly my mind shot backwards though time recalling the many times I have cried out "Abba, help" to my own heavenly Father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These four letters which mean "Father" in Hebrew brought such deep insight to what a loving Father we have in heaven. Abba is not a far off God sitting on a throne, sending His secretary to answer our every beckoning call. Abba is near, Abba is talking in His loving Fatherly voice, He is laughing with us, picking us up when we fall, correcting us in righteousness, sitting comfortably in silence with us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times as believers we suffer from spiritual homesickness. We miss Abba just as we missed our own parents at first separation. We needn't be heartsick for our Abba, He is right here with us even at this very moment. He is not impossibly far off, but unfathomably close at hand listening for our cry “Abba”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114288095926168789?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114288095926168789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114288095926168789' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114288095926168789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114288095926168789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/abba.html' title='Abba'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114276580660579566</id><published>2006-03-19T05:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T06:08:19.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>beliefs, books and bags</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://planetanimals.com/egypt/pyramids-s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://planetanimals.com/egypt/pyramids-s.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After considering the matter, I decided not to go to Egypt for my travel study break. Instead I decided to stay back in Israel and actually study. Two things led me to this decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, for those of you who know me you know that the reason I love to travel is the many people and cultures that I am thrown into. Every adventure is another ministry. So Egypt would have been the perfect adventure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I realized that before I can do ministry publicly, I must first do it privately. I have not been doing very well in my studies here as it has been much more difficult than I anticipated. If I am not being diligent in my studies about God and his people, then how am I to teach His people? So, as difficult as it is, I am going to stay and finish my studies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other reason I decided to stay back was due to financial obligations. I have been struggling with paying my school bill and I had to back out of a missions trip to Africa this summer due to lack of funds. Suffice it to say, it would show a lack of integrity to leave on pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is probably not one of my more interesting posts, however, if we read between the lines I believe there is something worthwhile to learn here. Blessings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114276580660579566?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114276580660579566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114276580660579566' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114276580660579566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114276580660579566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/beliefs-books-and-bags.html' title='beliefs, books and bags'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114236383636846161</id><published>2006-03-14T14:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T14:17:16.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'>narcissistic rulers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c213/sailorjeremy/IMGP1099.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c213/sailorjeremy/IMGP1099.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My King lives in my heart not on a poster.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114236383636846161?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114236383636846161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114236383636846161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114236383636846161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114236383636846161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/narcissistic-rulers.html' title='narcissistic rulers'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114236303705030094</id><published>2006-03-14T13:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-14T14:40:58.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>top ten things i experienced in jordan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c213/sailorjeremy/IMGP1021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://i28.photobucket.com/albums/c213/sailorjeremy/IMGP1021.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Camels&lt;br /&gt;9.   Dirt… Everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;8.   Non-kosher Burger Kings with burgers that actually look like the pictures!&lt;br /&gt;7.   Military Checkpoints with sniper towers.&lt;br /&gt;6.   Checkpoint soldiers insisting that I am an Arab.&lt;br /&gt;5.   Honest people who will actually give you change after tipping them.&lt;br /&gt;4.   Bedaes. WARNING ! These are not water fountains!&lt;br /&gt;3.   Arab bagpipe players, playing Scottish music in Roman Ruins.&lt;br /&gt;2.   Watching a goat sit in a tree eating leaves.&lt;br /&gt;1.   Being detained for urinating under a bridge that was actually a military compound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two amazing certainties came out of this trip. An understanding of just how unbelievably friendly and hospitable the Arab culture is and meeting a missionary that far exceeded any amount generosity I have ever experienced. Blessings&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114236303705030094?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114236303705030094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114236303705030094' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114236303705030094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114236303705030094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/top-ten-things-i-experienced-in-jordan.html' title='top ten things i experienced in jordan'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114201306592953323</id><published>2006-03-10T12:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T13:03:01.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>behind borders</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.rootsweb.com/~mdeastgw/maps/jordan.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.rootsweb.com/~mdeastgw/maps/jordan.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After returning from an amazing trip to the southern regions of Israel known as Negev and Wilderness of Zin (where the Israelites wandered) I return only to leave again in the morning. Though I have been living in the Middle East now for a little over 6 weeks it doesn't really "feel" like I am in the middle east. This is all about to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow morning I am leaving for the country of Jordan. I am excited for this short little vacation away from school, however I am a little leery. What will a predominantly Muslim country be like? Living in a Jewish land it is hard to know if I have developed any prejudice towards the Arabs. I pray that I haven't, but I am always aware of my sinfulness that distorts a vision and desire to love all humanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pray for me. Pray that my love for others will blossom in a spiritually desolate land.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114201306592953323?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114201306592953323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114201306592953323' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114201306592953323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114201306592953323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/behind-borders.html' title='behind borders'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114168012640272360</id><published>2006-03-06T16:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-06T16:23:19.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6,000,000</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.holocaust-history.org/hungarian-photos/jpg/04-0720.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.holocaust-history.org/hungarian-photos/jpg/04-0720.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would possess a human being to take the life of another? Being in Israel has really caused me to think about the 6 Million Jews murdered in the Holocaust. I cannot wrap my mind around that kind of number. I am at a loss for words right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A combination of the visit to Yad Vashem and watching documentation of dead bodies being bulldozed into mass graves; Visiting Oskar Schindler's Grave a few weeks ago and then viewing the biographical film of what he did for 1,100 Jews; And then watching this beautiful group of displaced people finally in the land which they belong, I am moved to tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reflect upon a hate so powerful, so intense, so unjustified. I ask God why? But He is silent, just as He was while million's died. I have no answer for this impossible question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If something so evil, so hate-filled can exist in our world, imagine how intense the love of God which has overcome that evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, be thankful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114168012640272360?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114168012640272360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114168012640272360' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114168012640272360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114168012640272360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/6000000.html' title='6,000,000'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19536109.post-114140913058259237</id><published>2006-03-03T12:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T07:41:53.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>of camels and women; an exposition on west bank wildlife pt. 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/1600/Benjamin%20Field%20Trip%202-14-06%20059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5113/1935/320/Benjamin%20Field%20Trip%202-14-06%20059.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently I wasn't doing this right... I enjoyed the concept of a camel so much I promised the friendly Arab that as soon as I returned to the states I would send him my sister for 300 more. He readily agreed, but after he saw me coercing the camel to kiss me on the lips, he quickly changed his mind, yelled at me and said "my camels only kiss women!" Ahhh, the life of a sheik in the middle east.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19536109-114140913058259237?l=jeremyphelps.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/feeds/114140913058259237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19536109&amp;postID=114140913058259237' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114140913058259237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19536109/posts/default/114140913058259237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeremyphelps.blogspot.com/2006/03/of-camels-and-women-exposition-on-west.html' title='of camels and women; an exposition on west bank wildlife pt. 3'/><author><name>jeremy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='05703495109019868984'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry></feed>