My Redeemer Lives

 

I know that my Redeemer lives;

He lives, who once was dead;

To me in grief

He comfort gives;

With peace

He crowns my head.

He lives triumphant

O’er the grave,

At God’s right hand on high,

My ransomed soul

To keep and save,

To bless and glorify.

He lives, that I may also live,

And now His grace proclaim;

He lives that I may honor give

To His most holy name.

Let strains of heav’nly music rise,

While all their anthem sing

To Christ, my precious Sacrifice,

And ever living King.

George Handel

Charles Wesley

 

I know my Redeemer lives

 

Wesley and Newton 

These two men changed American History. Religious persecution does that.

The World outside my World

So you remember this?

A neighbor gave our family a subscription to The National Geographic when I was ten years old. 

Well, I tell you what!

It exploded my small farm world and filled my mind with questions for which there no answers available to this farm girl. Each magazine was thumbed and read to pieces by the entire family.

“Class Artist” was my nickname then, because pencil and paper were always in my hands.  And now, the Nat’l Geo. was a powerful source from which images poured…flowers, towering trees, and exotic animals.

Then at age 17, a strange metamorphism happened.  The photos had always been my source; now the captions, stories, and the people hit me in their significance.  It was as if the faces and dark eyes leaped out at me, saying, “Look at me!  Understand me!”

Where my pencil had loved flowers and birds before, now my paper flew through fingers as I tried to capture the courage, sorrow, fear, grief and more of people far way.  Peering into their hollow pained eyes, I realized that glass-domed farm-world in which I lived was about to shatter.  At least for me, this would propel me out into other places.

Source

2014 NG photo contest winner

Source
Faces like these captured me.