Talk of JESUS . com

Category: Roger Harned – Writing

This category includes some of Roger’s non-expositional writing including biographical, fiction and other posts.

Roger looks forward to your reactions to his writing when you comment (privately, until moderated) on each of his posts.

talkofJesus.com is a place to SHARE & COMMENT in a community of Christian Social Witness.

Roger’s witness includes brief & extended expositions of scripture. Posts include links to sources for further authoritative research on the Bible.

Roger Harned is an author, writer, and blogger who happens to host this site.

  • Were you once a ‘friend’ of Jesus?

    Were you once a ‘friend’ of Jesus?

    What would Jesus say about you?

    Do you witness HIS NAME?

    A long time ago the lyrics of a couple of wonderful songs by Paul Simon seemed nonsensical to me, yet the soothing sounds settled my thoughts into a place of silence – a tranquility of inaction in a chaotic world.

    Suppose Jesus Christ, Lord and King, wanted someone to witness for HIM online.  Would it be you?

    And if so, do you suppose that Jesus Christ would want you to remain SILENT? (Shouldn’t you at least have a comment about Jesus?)

    Take in just a little of the Paul Simon lyric from so many years past:

    Hello darkness, my old friend
    I’ve come to talk with you again …

    There is NO darkness in Christ Jesus. HE calls us to the Light.

    Yet hear the warning of Simon’s lyric:

    People talking without speaking
    People hearing without listening
    People writing songs that voices never share
    And no one dared
    Disturb the sound of silence

    “Fools”, said I, “You do not know
    Silence like a cancer grows

    *The Sound of Silence – Paul Simon 1964

    SILENCE about sin…

    Silence about the Savior of your soul…

    A cancer… a cancer of silence about Christ Jesus, in these last days.

    So where is your voice?  What is your Christian Social Witness?

    Are you yet silent?

    Where are your comments?  Can we have a conversation… can we talk of Jesus if you remain silent?

    And if you dare share any scripture in our community of Christians, why not also share your Christian Social Witness with others.

    I know it seems out of place to think of Jesus, a King awaiting His Day of triumphal return to give any thought of you; but JESUS LOVES YOU.

    Our Lord, who suffered for you on the cross so that you might live is waiting for you to say something — anything – a thank you, or I know Him — JESUS wants your witness to Him.

    Dear sister in the Lord, must Jesus plea once more for you:

    Remember me to one who lives there
    She once was a true love of mine.

    {Scarborough Fair Lyrics – by Paul Simon}

    Dear brother or sister in the Lord,

    Just because Jesus loves your friends and your family does not mean that you should keep silent about Him.

    Praise His Holy Name!

    As much as great lyricists like Paul Simon may speak to us, no music in Christ’s ears is more joyous than your song of witness that HE IS and He loves you.  Jesus is our friend. SHARE HIM with the world – the ones who dwell in our old friend, darkness.

    Our silence for Jesus breaks His heart.  What is your witness? Jesus is a friend of sinners.

  • A Picture of Heaven – Chapter 5

    A Picture of Heaven – Chapter 5

    [In case you are joining our serial short story about grief a little late, here is a link to the beginning.]

    “Do you see all those stars,” the little girl asked? “There are more of them in heaven than sand on the beach. Know how I know?”

    I nodded that I didn’t and her dad looked our way in interest (for he too had been silent all along).

    The little girl continued: “God told Abraham,

    “You’ll have more kids than the sand on the beach or the stars in the sky.” [Gen.22:17]

    “Well, that was a long time ago and there’s lots more stars in heaven now.”

    I smiled and nodded confirmation of the little girl’s encouragement.

    I was thinking about the lifeless fluid-filled corpse in the casket. It wasn’t very encouraging. The scene was as frightening to me, truth-be-told, as the wax-carved bodies at Ripley’s.

    Another image quickly came to mind. If zombies could be real as dancers in a music video, then the next room would be as fearsome as death.

    I glanced ever-so-briefly toward the adjacent doors, through which I had fled into this vestibule.

    As I looked back to the girl and her picture I asked, “Why is that star so much brighter?”

    (I had not considered the impact of her matter-of-fact answer.)

    “THAT one’s my Mommy.”

  • A Picture of Heaven – Chapter 4

    A Picture of Heaven – Chapter 4

    When we were children, all of us remember “visiting” some favorite great grandpa, or grandma, or aunt or cousin…

    (The connections of the generations do keep getting closer, don’t they?)

    … and we had to file past an open coffin with a corpse, all the time thinking things like, ‘Grandpa never wore a suit,’ or ‘She never wore that much make-up,’ and thoughts of distraction like that.

    ‘Barbaric!’ I thought. ‘Why would any civilized people do this?’

    ‘I know… I’m going to put in my will that if you have an open coffin “viewing” of me, I’ll come back and haunt you!’

    Well, that was yesterday; but one other thing I noticed, as I attempted refusal to look at the dead corpse as I dutifully filed by the coffin: a little girl.

    She was sitting with a man in another room (probably her daddy), and she was coloring with crayons.

    So when I surveyed the scene for a place of escape (though there seemed no escape from this gloomy place), I walked toward the child, looking for a lost glimpse of joy.

    —

    I glanced toward saddened, tear-filled eyes of her father and stooped down to the child.

    “What’cha drawing?’ I asked.”

    The little girl looked up into my eyes. “Heaven.” Then she looked back to her paper and continued to color.

    I studied her picture and looked at her father, then back to her drawing.

    “How do you know there’s a Heaven?” I inquired of her (out of the clear blue sky)?

    Then her loving little eyes looked up toward me and her meek little voice boldly proclaimed:

    “IF there wasn’t a Heaven, I COULDN’T DRAW IT.”

    Silence… (I had not expected this.) I felt ‘a sadder eyes’ of others gazing our way. The little girl didn’t go back to her drawing, either, as if she was expecting my reply.

    (But I didn’t know what to say to this little girl, sitting beside her daddy with tears in his eyes.)

    “I better tell you about it,” she said.

    “I WAS THERE! And I see you don’t understand Heaven from my picture.”

    I gave no answer to her childish innocence saying, “I was there.” But she was right: I didn’t understand it.

    —