Category: look

Look: To Gaze in Wonder or Surprise

We look for the Saviour. . .
(Philippians 3:20 KJV)

First Grade Photo of Moi

My mother told me that as a child, riding in the back of the car, I would point and say “See!” To this day, I love pointing out things that I notice. Like this phrase from Philippians, which popped up on my cell phone screen this morning.
How appropriate, as I leave for a few days to recharge and relax with some girlfriends in the country. I wonder how God will surprise us this week as “we look for the Saviour . . .”
Won’t you look for the Saviour with me this week?
I would love to hear  about your encounters with God. Leave a comment later in the week and we will compare notes!
(I plan to post on Friday, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise! Then I am committed to Ant Kamp. Who knows maybe the kids and I will send out dispatches once in awhile to let you know if we turn into vegetables or not!)
Posted on by kelrohlf 10

Look: To Direct One’s Attention

Then he said to Thomas , “Put your finger here; see my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it into my side.
Stop doubting and believe.”
 
Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
 
Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
John 20:27-28 NIV
 
 
Today’s Five Minute Friday prompt: LOOK
 
(This is where you write for five minutes,
no editing, just write and see what spills out.)
 
Here’s my offering:



Look at me. I have freckles. A diploma on my wall. A blog on the internet. I have a husband and two sons. I want you to notice how accomplished I have become. I am short. I have brown hair. I wear glasses.

Look at me, ma…no hands…I road my bike to have coffee with friends. I bought groceries and carried them home on the same bike. Aren’t you proud of me?

Don’t look at me! I am wart. I am slug. I am abscessed wound. I stink. I drop the ball. I am picked last. I didn’t comb my hair. My shirt and pants don’t match. I lie. I cheat. I pretend. I act out in anger. I scream. I curse. I want to punch someone in the face. I am ugly.

Look at Jesus.
 
I don’t know what he looked like, his physical body marred, bloody, sweaty, dripping with life. He walked dusty roads. He climbed a hill with a tree on his back. He looked upon his mother and John. He groaned. He breathed. He gasped. He died. Buried in a cave with a stone door. Body found missing.
 
He appears. He eats. They believe. One doubts. Jesus returns. Look at me. Look at my hands. Touch my wounds. Put your hand in my side. Believe.

Linking up with:
 
Posted on by kelrohlf 12