<?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' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065</id><updated>2012-02-12T20:00:28.167-05:00</updated><category term='God&apos;s Flowers'/><category term='Expressions Of Love'/><category term='Testimonies'/><category term='Depression'/><category term='Scripture Lessons'/><category term='I Corinthians 13'/><category term='Love Lessons'/><category term='Poetry'/><category term='Love God'/><category term='Colossians Bible Study'/><category term='Keep Searching'/><category term='This Thing Called Love'/><category term='Two Tents'/><title type='text'>This Thing Called Love</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>396</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4341928996781739890</id><published>2011-06-21T11:01:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T19:48:12.042-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Walk Way</title><content type='html'>A bridge between God and man,&lt;br /&gt;planned before all time began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bridge perfect for width and span, &lt;br /&gt;enough to hold the Almighty's plan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bridge not made by human hand, &lt;br /&gt;but One God calls, "The Son Of Man".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walk thee not where thy will say go, &lt;br /&gt;Nor walk ye toward His will too slow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For soon the Way will be taken up, &lt;br /&gt;and all will pour from out wrath's cup. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  "The Walk Way"&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4341928996781739890?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4341928996781739890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/06/walk-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4341928996781739890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4341928996781739890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/06/walk-way.html' title='Walk Way'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-9135347545428284953</id><published>2011-06-21T11:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T23:30:08.238-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Sanctuary Of Light</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RpYsujmR9g8/TgC0SIXLsOI/AAAAAAAAAXA/mPRhUYnk-R0/s1600/ray%2Bof%2Blight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 219px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RpYsujmR9g8/TgC0SIXLsOI/AAAAAAAAAXA/mPRhUYnk-R0/s320/ray%2Bof%2Blight.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620690558533742818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rays of light filter down through leaves of green, &lt;br /&gt;another one of Your many wonders I have seen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A crisp, pure, and radiant light cascading down, &lt;br /&gt;illuminating the hidden splendor that surround.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sanctuary in and among the trees, &lt;br /&gt;where I had to fall upon my knees.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-9135347545428284953?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/9135347545428284953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/06/sanctuary-of-light.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/9135347545428284953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/9135347545428284953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/06/sanctuary-of-light.html' title='Sanctuary Of Light'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RpYsujmR9g8/TgC0SIXLsOI/AAAAAAAAAXA/mPRhUYnk-R0/s72-c/ray%2Bof%2Blight.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8967325678320992344</id><published>2011-06-19T07:02:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T12:48:52.574-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love Lessons'/><title type='text'>Father's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OvnkJb9TO3M/Tf4mMkOcu9I/AAAAAAAAAW4/qNL0pV1i23w/s1600/preston.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 244px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OvnkJb9TO3M/Tf4mMkOcu9I/AAAAAAAAAW4/qNL0pV1i23w/s320/preston.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619971382329523154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Love From A Father...&lt;br /&gt;For A Father&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The greatest commandment in the Scripture is this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength" (Deuteronomy 6:5). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dropping back to verse 2, we read,&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"...so that you, your children and their children after them may fear the LORD your God as long as you live by keeping all his decrees and commands that I give you, and so that you may enjoy long life." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following verses state, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up" (verses 6-7). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hebrew history reveals that the father was to be diligent in instructing his children in the ways and words of the Lord for their own spiritual development and well-being. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The father who was obedient to the commands of their Scriptures did just that. This brings us to a passage in Proverbs 22:6-11, primarily verse 6 which reads, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To train indicates the first instruction that a father and mother gives to a child, i.e. his early education. The training is designed to open before the child the manner of life for which he is intended. To begin the child's education in this way is of great importance, just as a tree follows the bent of its early years. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A New Testament passage gives us a clear picture of the Lord's instruction to a father in relation to the rearing of his children. Ephesians 6:4 is a summary word of instruction to parents, represented here by the father, stated in both a negative and positive way. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The negative aspect of this verse indicates that a father is not to foster negative passions of their children by severity, injustice, partiality, or unreasonable exercise of authority. Harsh, unreasonable conduct towards a child will only serve to nurture evil in the heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word "provoke" means to irritate, exasperate, rub the wrong way, or incite. This is done by a wrong spirit and wrong methods—severity, unreasonableness, sternness, harshness, cruel demands, needless restrictions, and selfish insistence upon dictatorial authority. Such provocation will produce adverse reactions, deaden the child's affection, check his desire for holiness, and make him feel that he can't possibly please his parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A wise parent seeks to make obedience desirable and attainable by love and gentleness. The positive aspect is expressed in a comprehensive direction—educate them, bring them up, develop their conduct in all of life by the instruction and admonition of the Lord. This is the whole process of educating and discipline. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word "admonition" carries with it the idea of "putting the child in mind of," which is the act of reminding the child of faults (constructively) or duties (responsibilities according to their level of age and understanding.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Christian father is really the instrument in God's hand. The whole process of instruction and discipline must be that which He (God) prescribes and which He administers so that His authority should be brought into constant and immediate contact with the mind, heart, and conscience of the child. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The human father should never present himself as the ultimate authority to determine truth and duty. It is only by making God the teacher and ruler on whose authority—and in obedience to whose will—everything is done that the ends of education can best be attained. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Keep an apple beside the rod to give the child when he does well." Martin Luther&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discipline in general education and culture must be exercised with watchful care and constant training with much prayer. Chastening, discipline, and counsel by the Word of God, giving both reproof and encouragement whenever needed is at the core of "admonition." The instruction proceeds from the Lord, is learned in the school of Christian experience, and is administered by the parents—primarily the father, and the mother under his direction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christian discipline is needed to prevent children from growing up without reverence for God, respect for parental authority, knowledge of Christian standards, and habits of self-control. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"All Scripture is given of God, and is profitable for teaching, reproving, correcting, and instruction in righteousness; that the man (or woman) of God may be completely equipped for all good works" (2 Timothy 3:16, 17). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the applicable biblical truth in regard to being a father. A father's first responsibility is to acquaint his children with the Scripture. The means and methods that fathers may use to teach God's truth will vary. As the father is faithful in role modeling, what a child learns about God will stand him/her in good stead throughout their earthly lives, no matter what they do or where they go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A father should be patient and kind. He should never be envious or jealousy. He should not be boastful or conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride). He should not be rude (unmannerly) and never act unbecomingly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A father should not insist on his own rights or his own way, because that would be self-seeking. He should not be touchy or fretful or resentful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Father should not rejoice at injustice and unrighteousness, but be glad when right and truth prevail. A father bears up under anything and everything that comes. He is ever ready to believe the best of every person, and his hopes are fadeless under all circumstances. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a father's love endures everything and never fails. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY FATHER'S DAY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8967325678320992344?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8967325678320992344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/06/fathers-day.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8967325678320992344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8967325678320992344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/06/fathers-day.html' title='Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OvnkJb9TO3M/Tf4mMkOcu9I/AAAAAAAAAW4/qNL0pV1i23w/s72-c/preston.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7106007894874325487</id><published>2011-05-31T17:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T06:51:04.669-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Love</title><content type='html'>Withhold not, His love, &lt;br /&gt;there's so much more from God above. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To do so is holding back His flood, &lt;br /&gt;and defeats the purpose of His Blood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give and give the love He gives, &lt;br /&gt;and show the world He LIVES! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman.  "Give Love"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7106007894874325487?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7106007894874325487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/give-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7106007894874325487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7106007894874325487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/give-love.html' title='Give Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-64665892414646681</id><published>2011-05-31T17:06:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-05T15:24:40.217-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Precious</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2tZ4mxkQvQ/TevX0nclGxI/AAAAAAAAAWo/zlCpwmLqEFk/s1600/pearl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2tZ4mxkQvQ/TevX0nclGxI/AAAAAAAAAWo/zlCpwmLqEFk/s400/pearl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614818659389479698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Precious, those to whom the name assigned, &lt;br /&gt;at His table, His Precious will so be dined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From His body they'll delight in The Bread Of Life, &lt;br /&gt;and toast, His blood, Bridegroom and Precious wife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever together because He is so gracious, &lt;br /&gt;to clothe in His love, those He calls Precious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "Precious"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-64665892414646681?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/64665892414646681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/precious.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/64665892414646681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/64665892414646681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/precious.html' title='Precious'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N2tZ4mxkQvQ/TevX0nclGxI/AAAAAAAAAWo/zlCpwmLqEFk/s72-c/pearl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1508547936958403174</id><published>2011-05-30T05:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-30T05:19:20.954-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Clang, Chang, Banga-Gong</title><content type='html'>Clang, Chang. Banga-Gong, &lt;br /&gt;I tell you there is something wrong.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's the sound of love so dear, &lt;br /&gt;the sound God really wants to hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clang, Chang, Banga-Gong,&lt;br /&gt;the sound of words made all day long. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For if we speak in tongues of men, &lt;br /&gt;and have not love, what is it then. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clang, Chang. Banga-Gong, &lt;br /&gt;somethings simply truly wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without the devotion for what God longs, &lt;br /&gt;we are clanging cymbols and noisy gongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1508547936958403174?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1508547936958403174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/clang-chang-banga-gong.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1508547936958403174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1508547936958403174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/clang-chang-banga-gong.html' title='Clang, Chang, Banga-Gong'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-402789019595502284</id><published>2011-05-22T06:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T07:02:27.653-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Seed Of Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJvr_bD_mF8/TdjtOlWL5NI/AAAAAAAAAWU/AbhytPq8iQE/s1600/seed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJvr_bD_mF8/TdjtOlWL5NI/AAAAAAAAAWU/AbhytPq8iQE/s200/seed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609494170689070290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a germ, doubt attacks the seed...&lt;br /&gt;layer upon layer it tries to feed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Already small it seemed for loss,&lt;br /&gt;but this seed was rooted in the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more of the seed doubt tried to dine,&lt;br /&gt;the stronger the seed grew into the Vine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faith grew from a seed not of mine,&lt;br /&gt;but a seed belonging to One Divine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seed Of Faith!&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-402789019595502284?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/402789019595502284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/seed-of-faith.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/402789019595502284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/402789019595502284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/seed-of-faith.html' title='Seed Of Faith'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FJvr_bD_mF8/TdjtOlWL5NI/AAAAAAAAAWU/AbhytPq8iQE/s72-c/seed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5134525608507128664</id><published>2011-05-18T18:59:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T08:56:36.673-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Day You Marry</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i3iT3QrEjXE/TdegVnbmmSI/AAAAAAAAAWE/v4j4H1bZ5EU/s1600/topper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 166px; height: 304px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i3iT3QrEjXE/TdegVnbmmSI/AAAAAAAAAWE/v4j4H1bZ5EU/s320/topper.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609128154135697698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my heart will sing like a canary,&lt;br /&gt;the day, I mean... when you should marry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course you'll be the beautiful fairy,&lt;br /&gt;adorned with blooms of plumeria and cherry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even to be there serving wedding cake and berry,&lt;br /&gt;and watch your face filled with such merry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though now in my heart a thought contrary,&lt;br /&gt;that I'd be before you, the day you marry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman "The Day You Marry"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5134525608507128664?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5134525608507128664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/day-you-marry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5134525608507128664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5134525608507128664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/day-you-marry.html' title='The Day You Marry'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i3iT3QrEjXE/TdegVnbmmSI/AAAAAAAAAWE/v4j4H1bZ5EU/s72-c/topper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7092966405949623852</id><published>2011-05-13T17:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T22:16:54.279-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Word Of God</title><content type='html'>Like a billboard God's Word stood as a gift, &lt;br /&gt;calling out to my soul from across a great rift. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn from your way and receive now, My Son, &lt;br /&gt;come that salvation from death will be done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other side His Word speaks to the saved, &lt;br /&gt;teaching in all of the ways Christ behaved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a billboard His Word so many pass by, &lt;br /&gt;"Listen to My Words", I can hear Him still cry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "The Word Of God"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7092966405949623852?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7092966405949623852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/word-of-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7092966405949623852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7092966405949623852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/word-of-god.html' title='The Word Of God'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2804482308536746891</id><published>2011-05-12T06:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T22:15:54.731-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>For Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O2KCIztVTY8/TcvOZTrVlKI/AAAAAAAAAV8/vAvDsMCkETQ/s1600/heaven.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 190px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O2KCIztVTY8/TcvOZTrVlKI/AAAAAAAAAV8/vAvDsMCkETQ/s320/heaven.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605801095366808738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thoughts they wander up into the skies, &lt;br /&gt;in hope to see You, I close my eyes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Word fresh upon my heart, &lt;br /&gt;this world I'm not afraid to depart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timeless, hushed, only Your light I see, &lt;br /&gt;for now I feel this is as close as I'll be.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll come back again in hopes to find, &lt;br /&gt;no longer this world I'll be confined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman. "For Now"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2804482308536746891?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2804482308536746891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/for-now.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2804482308536746891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2804482308536746891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/for-now.html' title='For Now'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O2KCIztVTY8/TcvOZTrVlKI/AAAAAAAAAV8/vAvDsMCkETQ/s72-c/heaven.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4346680117095379371</id><published>2011-05-03T13:05:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-03T13:07:26.585-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Peace Within</title><content type='html'>The winds of hell blew in,&lt;br /&gt;temptations arose toward sin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lies whispered turned into shouts,&lt;br /&gt;tides washed up streams of doubts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life-long friend and love was gone,&lt;br /&gt;how was I suppose to live life beyond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then a peace stirred deep within,&lt;br /&gt;a confidence and hope would then begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled as I said my last goodbyes,&lt;br /&gt;I wiped my tears from away my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll see you once again,&lt;br /&gt;and think of you from now till then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even felt you hug me tight,&lt;br /&gt;God's peace had brought it all in light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4346680117095379371?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4346680117095379371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/peace-within.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4346680117095379371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4346680117095379371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/peace-within.html' title='Peace Within'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7111197683607627034</id><published>2011-05-01T08:30:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T08:15:35.559-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Sandals Jesus Wore</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bK6rCYs4pzc/Tb2sAuxI7UI/AAAAAAAAAV0/yFwzoxxM8Yk/s1600/sandle.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bK6rCYs4pzc/Tb2sAuxI7UI/AAAAAAAAAV0/yFwzoxxM8Yk/s400/sandle.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601822640072879426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who made the sandals Jesus wore...&lt;br /&gt;did they slip on off to see Him ever more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they made-em was it He that they adore...&lt;br /&gt;did they know it was for them His stripes He bore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who made the sandals Jesus wore...&lt;br /&gt;had He waited for-em right outside the door?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where He was going He'd not wear-em anymore...&lt;br /&gt;for their sins He went to settle one last score.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they pulled the strands of leather to secure,&lt;br /&gt;could they feel the tug at heart from His implore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who made the sandals Jesus wore...&lt;br /&gt;did they slip on off to see Him ever more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7111197683607627034?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7111197683607627034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/sandals-jesus-wore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7111197683607627034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7111197683607627034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/05/sandals-jesus-wore.html' title='The Sandals Jesus Wore'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bK6rCYs4pzc/Tb2sAuxI7UI/AAAAAAAAAV0/yFwzoxxM8Yk/s72-c/sandle.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-3097043030138762419</id><published>2011-04-23T07:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T08:59:32.776-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Fear In Flight</title><content type='html'>They fly too and fro in the sky,&lt;br /&gt;they pray... they pray you'll not cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you cry, then hopefully not to be heard,&lt;br /&gt;if heard, certainly not reading from His Word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And dare us not mess up their game,&lt;br /&gt;by crying out loud in Jesus' Name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-3097043030138762419?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/3097043030138762419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/fear-in-flight.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3097043030138762419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3097043030138762419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/fear-in-flight.html' title='Fear In Flight'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5523066580574768410</id><published>2011-04-19T10:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T10:15:31.397-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Last Chance</title><content type='html'>Looking at my pathetic circumstance, &lt;br /&gt;I decided I'd take once last chance. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Was there such thing as true romance, &lt;br /&gt;or was it simply happenstance. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;So, I yielded to the Lord's advance, &lt;br /&gt;before, I'd never given Him a glance. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I fell into what seemed a trance, &lt;br /&gt;as my heart filled with such expanse.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Now, forever will I sing and dance, &lt;br /&gt;In Christ I've found a true romance.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5523066580574768410?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5523066580574768410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/last-chance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5523066580574768410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5523066580574768410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/last-chance.html' title='Last Chance'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2051666315886494641</id><published>2011-04-14T10:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T07:10:46.616-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Way</title><content type='html'>It's not an easy way... but He will take away much of the burden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a way free of pain... though He takes away a lot that's hurtin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a way we can always see... but He guides us for certain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus is the only way to God... where there once was a curtain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you...♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2051666315886494641?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2051666315886494641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2051666315886494641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2051666315886494641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/way.html' title='The Way'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-3954613453308560006</id><published>2011-04-13T09:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T22:27:29.551-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Across the Expanse</title><content type='html'>Across the expanse He laid,&lt;br /&gt;His Son for my sin He paid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon the cross did so hang my God,&lt;br /&gt;and so across the expanse I trod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman ♥&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-3954613453308560006?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/3954613453308560006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/across-expanse.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3954613453308560006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3954613453308560006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/across-expanse.html' title='Across the Expanse'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7071923333376971988</id><published>2011-04-12T09:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T07:46:52.541-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Swept Away</title><content type='html'>She swept and swept,&lt;br /&gt;but her house looked unkempt,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Master tried to intercept,&lt;br /&gt;but a guest she'd not accept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she swept and swept,&lt;br /&gt;and it still looked unkempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Master returned but this time He wept,&lt;br /&gt;and seeing how He loved her she fell so inept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She still sweeps and sweeps,&lt;br /&gt;But for His visits that she keeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7071923333376971988?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7071923333376971988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/swept-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7071923333376971988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7071923333376971988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/swept-away.html' title='Swept Away'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8674905929267893325</id><published>2011-04-11T09:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T09:02:23.295-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Crossing</title><content type='html'>I looked for you in such a time of need,&lt;br /&gt;crying out to you, I felt You wouldn't heed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desperate and downcast I nearly lost hope,&lt;br /&gt;I crossed over on my own while I could still cope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there You were to turn me around,&lt;br /&gt;showing me all of the paths that abound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, it was only this one to You that I had crossed,&lt;br /&gt;I know now, to You my fate was never to be lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8674905929267893325?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8674905929267893325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/crossing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8674905929267893325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8674905929267893325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/crossing.html' title='The Crossing'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4736625601173139107</id><published>2011-04-04T06:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T21:11:13.965-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Those Faces</title><content type='html'>I covered my face in such shame,&lt;br /&gt;as You showed me all the faces with no name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faces of people I'd walked past,&lt;br /&gt;faces without hope and downcast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd never asked a one for their name, &lt;br /&gt;now I pray for their faces just the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and I do so, in Jesus' Name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "Those Faces"&lt;br /&gt;I Love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4736625601173139107?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4736625601173139107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/praying-for-faces.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4736625601173139107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4736625601173139107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/praying-for-faces.html' title='Those Faces'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2307205628787716708</id><published>2011-04-02T07:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T07:01:59.983-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Thanks for being my Friend. ♥</title><content type='html'>Just a simple rhyme,&lt;br /&gt;at a moment in time.&lt;br /&gt;When words were compelled,&lt;br /&gt;for whom my heart upheld.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A moment placed above,&lt;br /&gt;for an expression of love.&lt;br /&gt;The words needed so few,&lt;br /&gt;fact is, I simply love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2307205628787716708?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2307205628787716708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/thanks-for-being-my-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2307205628787716708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2307205628787716708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/thanks-for-being-my-friend.html' title='Thanks for being my Friend. ♥'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5793963893074814933</id><published>2011-04-01T16:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T16:01:41.568-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Prayer To Share</title><content type='html'>Even with all God has shown me,&lt;br /&gt;I still wrestle with feeling lonely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though I know in my heart He is there,&lt;br /&gt;times like now I must ask for prayer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that others feel the same,&lt;br /&gt;I will pray for them just the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5793963893074814933?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5793963893074814933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/prayer-to-share.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5793963893074814933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5793963893074814933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/04/prayer-to-share.html' title='Prayer To Share'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2921316752475334845</id><published>2011-03-18T09:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T14:00:41.249-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>I Bless You</title><content type='html'>How wonderfully made each one are of God's, &lt;br /&gt;and for me to know of you, what were the odds? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Precious, is the measure I value your friendship, &lt;br /&gt;I see the reason Christ ministers thru fellowship! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Praying for your prosperity in all that you do, &lt;br /&gt;just as your soul prospers, I pray for you.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;God bless you today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2921316752475334845?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2921316752475334845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-bless-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2921316752475334845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2921316752475334845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-bless-you.html' title='I Bless You'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7061907224247551419</id><published>2011-03-18T07:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T17:04:08.117-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>His Little Orb</title><content type='html'>A tiny orb spins while upon it life expands,&lt;br /&gt;delicately situated between nail-scarred hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Slowly revolving the inhabitants in the sun's light,&lt;br /&gt;warming all creations purely for the Son's delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the orb spins along on a strand called time,&lt;br /&gt;He waits to take out His own when God sees that it's prime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "His Little Orb"&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7061907224247551419?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7061907224247551419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/his-little-orb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7061907224247551419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7061907224247551419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/his-little-orb.html' title='His Little Orb'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1256290029986584929</id><published>2011-03-17T15:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T15:28:57.817-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Love Sublime</title><content type='html'>Time wasted... trying to forget... and all the while,&lt;br /&gt;the sand in the hourglass poured out your smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind paints hues of gold through your hair,&lt;br /&gt;I reach beyond the glow but you're not there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just now I felt it once again... it will be ok,  &lt;br /&gt;to hold, I mean, a small memory kept away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll take it out again and hold,&lt;br /&gt;a love still worth it's weight in gold.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't hurt now, the way it use to,&lt;br /&gt;but then, it doesn't even seem like you.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I've found of love is greater now,&lt;br /&gt;than the times that we shared somehow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We change and move along the strand of time,&lt;br /&gt;but love I've learned is much more sublime.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1256290029986584929?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1256290029986584929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/love-sublime.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1256290029986584929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1256290029986584929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/love-sublime.html' title='Love Sublime'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7437118146024971517</id><published>2011-03-13T12:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T20:46:39.320-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Hate, hate</title><content type='html'>Hate, hate, it's just too late,&lt;br /&gt;my heart no longer will debate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place inside you use to visit,&lt;br /&gt;is filled with One now so exquisite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate, hate, you need not wait,&lt;br /&gt;this love inside will not abate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flee back to your home in hell,&lt;br /&gt;and get use to that burning smell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate, hate, for that is your fate,&lt;br /&gt;and to take me there, it's just too late!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7437118146024971517?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7437118146024971517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/hate-hate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7437118146024971517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7437118146024971517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/hate-hate.html' title='Hate, hate'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7750462390679076923</id><published>2011-03-09T10:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T12:16:32.952-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Word Of God</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fe8RA_aaGA8/TXeepqXa1gI/AAAAAAAAAUM/K0qoVObxv7c/s1600/170345_1745286562578_1551186436_31769595_4513912_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 209px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fe8RA_aaGA8/TXeepqXa1gI/AAAAAAAAAUM/K0qoVObxv7c/s200/170345_1745286562578_1551186436_31769595_4513912_o.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582104701733361154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a soldier training, I buffet myself,&lt;br /&gt;across the pages of His Word are life Itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Victory, Abstinence, Selflessness, I read,&lt;br /&gt;His Word creating in me a new breed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrestle my flesh to crawl deeper in truth,&lt;br /&gt;claiming what God saw before even my youth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holiness, Purity, A Morality not of my own,&lt;br /&gt;from His Word I find revelation to atone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Commander-In-Chief speaks to my soul,&lt;br /&gt;my mind, body, and spirit are made whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am truly a victorious soldier of God,&lt;br /&gt;and through the mystery of His Word I trod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7750462390679076923?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7750462390679076923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/word-of-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7750462390679076923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7750462390679076923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/word-of-god.html' title='The Word Of God'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fe8RA_aaGA8/TXeepqXa1gI/AAAAAAAAAUM/K0qoVObxv7c/s72-c/170345_1745286562578_1551186436_31769595_4513912_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7011954128149009596</id><published>2011-03-06T07:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T09:05:17.179-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Meeting In The Air</title><content type='html'>Wondering now why so hard we cried, &lt;br /&gt;whenever it was when brethren died. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing them along-side Father as they ride, &lt;br /&gt;coming now in the clouds to collect The Bride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeting them part-way faces come into view, &lt;br /&gt;Jesus, Timothy, and... "Granny, is that YOU?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7011954128149009596?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7011954128149009596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/meeting-in-air.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7011954128149009596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7011954128149009596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/03/meeting-in-air.html' title='Meeting In The Air'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-3992125186995965902</id><published>2011-02-17T01:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T06:05:10.009-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Un-forgiveness</title><content type='html'>When I first Lasso'd Grudge,&lt;br /&gt;it's strength was only a nudge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding it as it grew, I'd nearly lose my breath,&lt;br /&gt;and fully grown, it nearly dragged me to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-3992125186995965902?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/3992125186995965902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/un-forgiveness.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3992125186995965902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3992125186995965902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/un-forgiveness.html' title='Un-forgiveness'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4315273381072589643</id><published>2011-02-16T05:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T09:07:33.451-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Toy With Me Abba</title><content type='html'>Toy with me Abba and allow me to linger.&lt;br /&gt;let me roll off your hand and down Your finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flick me and catch me a time or two please,&lt;br /&gt;whisper a word let me brace in it's breeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold me up that I may gaze into Your eyes,&lt;br /&gt;and marvel at Your wonder and surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4315273381072589643?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4315273381072589643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/toy-with-me-abba.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4315273381072589643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4315273381072589643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/toy-with-me-abba.html' title='Toy With Me Abba'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2132964860776049803</id><published>2011-02-15T01:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T06:34:28.890-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>I Lift You Up</title><content type='html'>I lift you up before the Lord,&lt;br /&gt;we pray for you in one accord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart for you He has explored,&lt;br /&gt;and see's the same that I've adored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He see's His things you've not ignored,&lt;br /&gt;and nothing that He has abhorred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your trials I pray in tears I've poured,&lt;br /&gt;He counts them as you are restored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hears my prayer that I afford,&lt;br /&gt;and His will for you is His award.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The love for you that He's implored,&lt;br /&gt;I've returned to Him for His reward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lift you up before the Lord,&lt;br /&gt;we pray for you in one accord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2132964860776049803?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2132964860776049803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-lift-you-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2132964860776049803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2132964860776049803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-lift-you-up.html' title='I Lift You Up'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7174308204296733958</id><published>2011-02-14T14:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T12:15:34.341-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Valentine ♥</title><content type='html'>He made Roses red, &lt;br /&gt;and the Violets blue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but Christ is how God said, &lt;br /&gt;I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His blood poured red,&lt;br /&gt;His countenance blue. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Forgive them", He said, &lt;br /&gt;and the curtain rent in two. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "'The'... Valentine"&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7174308204296733958?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7174308204296733958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7174308204296733958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7174308204296733958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentine.html' title='The Valentine ♥'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-815093604479644301</id><published>2011-02-13T07:46:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T07:53:07.457-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Hearts Intertwined</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 136px; height: 100px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mjFKzxwVB-0/TVfS6_Ay2fI/AAAAAAAAAQU/tBaLZRZw2WM/s320/intertwined.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573154974683290098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearts set on Him divine,&lt;br /&gt;bound by love they intertwine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like lily pads on a tranquil pond,&lt;br /&gt;one is moved and all respond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each heart beating yet all as one,&lt;br /&gt;a song to God by what He's done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like fallen snow not two alike,&lt;br /&gt;they bind to adorn the highest pike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearts filled by and for,&lt;br /&gt;One so loved forever more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bond unchanged by space and time,&lt;br /&gt;linked through eternity in single rhyme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As He desires to take one home,&lt;br /&gt;those left are never left alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-815093604479644301?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/815093604479644301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/hearts-intertwined.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/815093604479644301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/815093604479644301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/hearts-intertwined.html' title='Hearts Intertwined'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mjFKzxwVB-0/TVfS6_Ay2fI/AAAAAAAAAQU/tBaLZRZw2WM/s72-c/intertwined.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2236265541519646588</id><published>2011-02-10T06:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-10T06:04:45.105-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Chains I Held</title><content type='html'>A prison utterly dark and very real,&lt;br /&gt;a hell of mind that no one else could feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chains of thick and hardened metal,&lt;br /&gt;imprisoning thoughts that never settle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I heard the Truth that set me free,&lt;br /&gt;I released the chains I held and left them be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2236265541519646588?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2236265541519646588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/chains-i-held.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2236265541519646588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2236265541519646588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/chains-i-held.html' title='The Chains I Held'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1854096104332882888</id><published>2011-02-07T07:54:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-08T10:49:16.120-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Do You Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;you live your lives doing what you want to...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; is it all right with you, if I still love you.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you hurt yourselves and one another too...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; do you mind, that I'll always love you.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;soon, this time I created will be set into two...&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; and I have sent My Only Begotten, for you.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; do you mind... &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;if I always love you.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1854096104332882888?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1854096104332882888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/do-you-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1854096104332882888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1854096104332882888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/do-you-mind.html' title='Do You Mind'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-924554920572245318</id><published>2011-02-06T06:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T16:18:23.742-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Heart Shaped Chest</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8haB1T1ivF4/ThTDAP3rYRI/AAAAAAAAAXw/sSGNsUT5vq0/s1600/images-1.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8haB1T1ivF4/ThTDAP3rYRI/AAAAAAAAAXw/sSGNsUT5vq0/s320/images-1.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626336243520069906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;•&lt;br /&gt;A treasure of gems "pure and sweet" I find,&lt;br /&gt;not contained within the folds of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jewels held precious in a heart shaped box,&lt;br /&gt;more sacred than angelic vox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earthly treasures traded for God's very best,&lt;br /&gt;He gave me a treasure deep in my chest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-924554920572245318?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/924554920572245318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/heart-shaped-chest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/924554920572245318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/924554920572245318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/heart-shaped-chest.html' title='Heart Shaped Chest'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8haB1T1ivF4/ThTDAP3rYRI/AAAAAAAAAXw/sSGNsUT5vq0/s72-c/images-1.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8191633385743793157</id><published>2011-02-04T11:05:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T08:23:53.580-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Explanation For Flowers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUwrGzT2NuI/AAAAAAAAAPw/xmH-BSbR_fc/s1600/wedding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUwrGzT2NuI/AAAAAAAAAPw/xmH-BSbR_fc/s200/wedding.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569874235003123426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;•&lt;br /&gt;I saw a flower lying down, &lt;br /&gt;an explanation so I found. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What bumped into the daisy, &lt;br /&gt;an angel in all it's splendid glee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found it later in a woman's hair,  &lt;br /&gt;and wondered not, how it got there.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  "A Flower" &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8191633385743793157?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8191633385743793157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/explanation-for-flowers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8191633385743793157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8191633385743793157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/explanation-for-flowers.html' title='Explanation For Flowers'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUwrGzT2NuI/AAAAAAAAAPw/xmH-BSbR_fc/s72-c/wedding.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2951538055688884503</id><published>2011-02-03T06:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T12:49:01.519-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Awesome Blossom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUqOiAyWWHI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Ok3ZiNVwBAI/s1600/blue.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUqOiAyWWHI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Ok3ZiNVwBAI/s200/blue.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569420604174915698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you noticed all that flowers feed,  &lt;br /&gt;with nutritious nectar, pollen, and seed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her perfume delights for miles,&lt;br /&gt;her brilliant petals feed our smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So is the resourceful woman of the Lord,&lt;br /&gt;through her generosity He is adored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2951538055688884503?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2951538055688884503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/awesome-blossom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2951538055688884503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2951538055688884503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/awesome-blossom.html' title='Awesome Blossom'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUqOiAyWWHI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Ok3ZiNVwBAI/s72-c/blue.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6595440689557607212</id><published>2011-02-02T17:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T12:48:46.573-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Flower Guardian</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUiKeptLO5I/AAAAAAAAAPc/iuB8M_zRV-4/s1600/yellow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUiKeptLO5I/AAAAAAAAAPc/iuB8M_zRV-4/s200/yellow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568853198439660434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In radiant display she rises in the Son's light,&lt;br /&gt;and closes her petals before the fall of night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When dangerous elements are about to approach,&lt;br /&gt;nourished leaves see that they don't encroach.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obedient only to a divine code,&lt;br /&gt;A Godly woman adorns our abode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6595440689557607212?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6595440689557607212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/flower-guardian.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6595440689557607212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6595440689557607212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/flower-guardian.html' title='Flower Guardian'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUiKeptLO5I/AAAAAAAAAPc/iuB8M_zRV-4/s72-c/yellow.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5382152537040091356</id><published>2011-02-01T07:04:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-04T12:48:25.663-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Flowering Intrigue</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUgj6vGW76I/AAAAAAAAAPU/cE5WJugtr0Q/s1600/rose.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUgj6vGW76I/AAAAAAAAAPU/cE5WJugtr0Q/s200/rose.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568740431226138530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's a flower unmatched to any that allure,&lt;br /&gt;her beauty far greater and intriguingly obscure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her wonders lay hidden from spectators view,&lt;br /&gt;awaiting for only the most desirous debut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A flower who's beauty is hidden in the Lord,&lt;br /&gt;a woman entrusting herself to His great reward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5382152537040091356?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5382152537040091356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/flowering-intrigue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5382152537040091356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5382152537040091356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/flowering-intrigue.html' title='Flowering Intrigue'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUgj6vGW76I/AAAAAAAAAPU/cE5WJugtr0Q/s72-c/rose.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-13603335473045341</id><published>2011-01-31T07:02:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T15:58:33.629-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s Flowers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Delicate Flower</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUgfFbnCJ4I/AAAAAAAAAPM/F-OX2QXqexY/s1600/opar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUgfFbnCJ4I/AAAAAAAAAPM/F-OX2QXqexY/s200/opar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568735117414901634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my precious and delicate flower,&lt;br /&gt;hold on to the strength of God's power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't give of yourself only in part,&lt;br /&gt;it's not good for a precious heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For many an evil brood have stole,&lt;br /&gt;leaving a part that's no longer whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-13603335473045341?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/13603335473045341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/delicate-flower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/13603335473045341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/13603335473045341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/02/delicate-flower.html' title='Delicate Flower'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TUgfFbnCJ4I/AAAAAAAAAPM/F-OX2QXqexY/s72-c/opar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1703158541933308592</id><published>2011-01-30T04:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-17T15:58:52.408-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Desert Ride</title><content type='html'>Leather strikes the camels hide,&lt;br /&gt;racing across the desert I ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Demons trailing behind like a blistering wind,&lt;br /&gt;like desert vultures upon me they descend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've ditched food, water, and fine cargo, &lt;br /&gt;but my soul it is, that they'll not forgo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, My Fortress, ready now Thy gate,&lt;br /&gt;as I crash behind Thy walls of sweet fate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1703158541933308592?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1703158541933308592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/desert-ride.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1703158541933308592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1703158541933308592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/desert-ride.html' title='Desert Ride'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8899880789276951302</id><published>2011-01-20T14:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T14:45:30.572-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>One Heart Again</title><content type='html'>A man and woman joined together at heart,&lt;br /&gt;should never allow them to come apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They do not tear along some dotted line,&lt;br /&gt;and so the healing takes a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to hide the pain or replace the loss,&lt;br /&gt;delays the healing availed upon the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason that God hates divorce,&lt;br /&gt;yet provides a way of forgiveness of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When hearts tear in two, leaving so great a pain,&lt;br /&gt;God's love provides a way to become one again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow Him the time to love and restore,&lt;br /&gt;that your heart again, can be free to soar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8899880789276951302?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8899880789276951302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-heart-again.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8899880789276951302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8899880789276951302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-heart-again.html' title='One Heart Again'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8037746586619906538</id><published>2011-01-15T09:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-15T09:43:51.879-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>I'm Praying For You</title><content type='html'>I know it's more than making myself feel good, &lt;br /&gt;and it's not just a matter of doing what I should.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I know that praying for you in the Father's will, &lt;br /&gt;sends forth into your life what He means to instill. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;That part of me where prayer finds it's start, &lt;br /&gt;reveals why God's placed you upon my heart. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And so my prayer for you is more than just to obey, &lt;br /&gt;but with power for all that He wills for you today.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8037746586619906538?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8037746586619906538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/im-praying-for-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8037746586619906538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8037746586619906538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/im-praying-for-you.html' title='I&apos;m Praying For You'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-80897529550727250</id><published>2011-01-12T06:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-12T06:14:06.198-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Be Still</title><content type='html'>Solace, was nowhere to be found,&lt;br /&gt;desperately, I sought it all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close, I felt my heartbeat pound,&lt;br /&gt;but my search for solace did confound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon my knees I fell onto the ground,&lt;br /&gt;and in that stillness... solace so profound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-80897529550727250?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/80897529550727250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/be-still.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/80897529550727250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/80897529550727250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/be-still.html' title='Be Still'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7202190885901703308</id><published>2011-01-11T15:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T15:16:08.243-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>His Hands</title><content type='html'>I hold out my hands before the Lord,&lt;br /&gt;He shows me through them, we're of one accord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since they're His, again in Him I implore,&lt;br /&gt;before trying to do what I think He'd adore,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when I'm unsure what His hands should do,&lt;br /&gt;I put them together and pray for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7202190885901703308?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7202190885901703308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/his-hands.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7202190885901703308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7202190885901703308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/his-hands.html' title='His Hands'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8593420868680358391</id><published>2011-01-10T17:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T17:15:49.096-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>My Prayer</title><content type='html'>Praying for lives to be changed,&lt;br /&gt;for bad relations to become estranged,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for irregular cell-growth to be rearranged,&lt;br /&gt;for God's Word to go forth unchanged,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for the repented to walk unashamed,&lt;br /&gt;for vows that God wants reclaimed,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for cold hearts to be set aflame,&lt;br /&gt;for God's love toward those we disdain,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray the name of Jesus we proclaim,&lt;br /&gt;and ask for these things in His Name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8593420868680358391?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8593420868680358391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-prayer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8593420868680358391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8593420868680358391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-prayer.html' title='My Prayer'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5772238638154679422</id><published>2011-01-08T14:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T14:07:39.282-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>That Part Of Me</title><content type='html'>Was pleased with that part of me, inside...  &lt;br /&gt;that part of me, willing to be crucified.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rebellious foe entrenched in flesh, &lt;br /&gt;surrendered now for Christ's refresh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh what joy would I now consider loss, &lt;br /&gt;if not for that, laid before the cross. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Search me Lord as You've so willed, &lt;br /&gt;for more of me that may be killed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5772238638154679422?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5772238638154679422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/that-part-of-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5772238638154679422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5772238638154679422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2011/01/that-part-of-me.html' title='That Part Of Me'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7235341937983377557</id><published>2011-01-01T11:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-27T17:23:50.016-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Laid To Rest</title><content type='html'>This thought of being laid to rest,  &lt;br /&gt;a hoax it seems to me at best. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it refer to skin and bone,  &lt;br /&gt;and all the thoughts we've ever known.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since long before my final day, &lt;br /&gt;those things began to fall away.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What care have I of things that rot,  &lt;br /&gt;though, to me these things... they resistith not.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nor will the spirit ever lay to rest,  &lt;br /&gt;not for the worst nor for the best.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The spirit given up at death by thee,  &lt;br /&gt;lives on throughout eternity.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this the point of rest for you,  &lt;br /&gt;where forever will be set in two.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One, where death awaits for some,  &lt;br /&gt;a death who's rest will never come.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other, where rest awaits in great amaze,  &lt;br /&gt;but is traded for our eternal praise.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This thought of being laid to rest,  &lt;br /&gt;a hoax it seems to me at best.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "Laid To Rest"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7235341937983377557?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7235341937983377557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/is-that-all-there-is.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7235341937983377557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7235341937983377557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/is-that-all-there-is.html' title='Laid To Rest'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-360969017707979024</id><published>2010-12-31T12:25:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T00:52:57.783-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MMXII</title><content type='html'>It's almost 2011.  With the start of a new year, many of us reflect ahead to what we'd like to see different in our lives in the coming year.  This naturally leads to decisions that then lead us to setting goals, or resolutions.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is part of the nature of man.  God has created us to change, and His revealed will for us changes, not because of a character flaw on His part, but because our nature requires and succeeds on change.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider God's revelation to Jeremiah (29:11): "For I know the thoughts and plans that I have for you, says the Lord, thoughts and plans for welfare and peace and not for evil, to give you hope in your final outcome"  Imagine... God thinking about our future!  The hope we feel for this next year, itself is His gift.  Now with hope, we still need to know what His thoughts include.  We have some ideas for what might bring "health, and peace, and not for evil"... but what are His?   For you and I to step out in our own plan... how is that any different from what we use to do before were saved?  Remember, the Apostle James taught us to make plans with the qualifier "if the Lord wills" (James 4:13-17).  Remember the man in Luke's gospel, that planned to build barns, without seeking God's will? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And he said, I will do this: I will pull down my storehouses and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain or produce and my goods.  And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have many good things laid up, [enough] for many years. Take your ease; eat, drink, and enjoy yourself merrily.   But God said to him, You fool! This very night they [the messengers of God] will demand your soul of you; and all the things that you have prepared, whose will they be?   Luke 12:18-20.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see... God had another plan, and the man in that story did not have a clue!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some, our plans may include doing away, once and for all, with a struggle with sin that continues to get in our way.  If the Lord has brought you to this writing today, I think the most important thing He would have me so say to you about this is, "You've got to stop looking at the failure... the things you're doing wrong... the sin.  Listen... I know you sin, because I still do to... but, I am far away from where I use to be even forget how bad I was... and so, I must share with you the thing that has helped me the most.  But first, let's just look at the irony of trying to wrestle with sin ourselves, instead of personally seeking what Christ wants us to focus on...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Many will say to Me on that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name and driven out demons in Your name and done many mighty works in Your name?  And then I will say to them openly (publicly), I never knew you; depart from Me, you who act wickedly [disregarding My commands]."   Mat 7:22-23&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the problem is not that Jesus never asks us not to do those things... His Word says to do them.  And, we know He knows all things, so why did He say He never KNEW them?  Well, the problem is that they were just doing what the bible said and not relating with Him at all.  The bible is not what saved us... the bible did not hang on the cross for us.  Jesus wants us to Love Him and He be our savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though saved, I will sin again, even if I tie my hands... keep a bite down on my tongue, close my eyes, stick plugs in my ears... you get the picture.  In fact, the more I try not to sin... the more focused I am upon sin.  Let's just look at an example...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see a thing that causes me to be tempted into sin, and I try not to fall into sin.  Sometimes even when I flee from it, it seems to pull at us... follow us, even.  I see it again, and but later, I'm reading a book, the phone rings, I'm a little distracted and I see the thing that causes me to sin and I forget and sin again.  Well, maybe I get another idea... I'll put a box over the thing so I won't see it... right?  No, you see, I'm still focused on the sin... only now, every time I see a box, I think of the temptation under it.  You've thought of things I could do while I was saying this, and now your focus has even been turned to sin...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's back up and look at what is happening from God's point of view.  We're trying to deal with this issue ourselves... that's not good.  If it could work, what would we need Christ for?   Why would we have a New Testament? More importantly, our attention has been or is taken away from what He says "is" most important... Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must take our focus OFF the sin, the mistakes, our failures, building walls around temptation, trying to out-trick it, reading "how to not sin in 6 steps plans", etc., and FOCUS on Christ... who He is, what did He ACTUALLY do here, what is He doing now, what does He have to say to "me", how much does He really love me... how much do I really love Him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when you focus on Christ's love? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A. He really likes to be the center of our attention!  Mat 22:34-40, I Cor 8:2, 13:1-3,  Eph 3:17-19...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B. It's much easier on you, your nerves, your mind, your body.  Exo 23:25-26, 2 Cor 4:16, 3 John 1:2, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C. You get smarter about who is telling you what to do each day. (Even in our mistaking who is leading us sometimes, we learn... we get use to which is His leading and which is our own).  Jesus, said, "My sheep hear My voice"... and maybe it's not audible to everyone, but His leading is knowable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D. As you get closer to Him, you look back to that sin, and it is uglier than you use to think... further away from you... and you just find that by turning your FOCUS to Christ, you are sinning less and less.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, In looking at this new year ahead, I am praying that we can set Christ at the center of our struggles... while we resist evil and follow the Holy Spirit, give these issues we'd like to see changed this coming year to our Savior, and let Him sort them out for us.  He is ready to be intimately working in and through us.  Then we will enjoy the changes He will make.  Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-360969017707979024?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/360969017707979024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/mmxii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/360969017707979024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/360969017707979024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/mmxii.html' title='MMXII'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1555009237983654058</id><published>2010-12-31T01:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T04:21:20.466-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Walking With Grace</title><content type='html'>I was walking with my Lord today,&lt;br /&gt;my smile fell off and the wind blew it away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the Lord what make He of this,&lt;br /&gt;when in my heart twas full of bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said the flesh knows not what to do,&lt;br /&gt;except for "My" heart inside of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new smile formed upon my face,&lt;br /&gt;as I felt the fullness of His grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman "Walking With Grace"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1555009237983654058?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1555009237983654058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/walking-with-grace.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1555009237983654058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1555009237983654058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/walking-with-grace.html' title='Walking With Grace'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2336117995302383041</id><published>2010-12-27T06:57:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T07:12:13.211-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Flip Film</title><content type='html'>I was looking through my life like one long movie,&lt;br /&gt;when I noticed something that really moved me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Millions of single frames instead, running one after another,&lt;br /&gt;each containing the elements which would make for the other.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Temptation and desire in one frame would begin,&lt;br /&gt;and in the next frame it was conceived giving birth to sin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped flipping through the frames behind, &lt;br /&gt;and came forward to this present frame of mind.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What elements of choice lay before me in this one single frame,  &lt;br /&gt;that in the next frame will not reflect anything of shame.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is not one long playing story of happenstance, &lt;br /&gt;but individual clips where God gives choices over our circumstance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each moment in my life that will now be framed, &lt;br /&gt;Jesus, is the Director of this film so acclaimed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, when I flip though the pages of my life story,  &lt;br /&gt;it'll show less about me and more about His glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "Flip Film"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2336117995302383041?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2336117995302383041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/flip-film.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2336117995302383041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2336117995302383041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/flip-film.html' title='Flip Film'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8074125291374071002</id><published>2010-12-21T05:39:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-21T21:04:21.221-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>A Saint's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TRCFP0zySVI/AAAAAAAAAN8/tOp5jvQv2SQ/s1600/prayer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TRCFP0zySVI/AAAAAAAAAN8/tOp5jvQv2SQ/s400/prayer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553084847468202322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The realm is dark and thick with their kind,&lt;br /&gt;I seek past their conviction, Your voice to find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Lord... instruct me as I pass through the fire,&lt;br /&gt;through the trials of life, Your will do I aspire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the enemy presses in from all sides,&lt;br /&gt;I escape again in victory as Your Word guides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hateful whisperings that lick at my mind,&lt;br /&gt;with scriptures of Your Love I am able to bind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doubt and disbelief wait at the foot of my bed,&lt;br /&gt;I pray in Your Spirit before I even move my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the attacks upon health and physical demands,&lt;br /&gt;I go to the elders for oil and the laying on of hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignoring distractions from what's important to You,&lt;br /&gt;a loving relation with You and with others I pursue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In You, Lord I am able to do all these things,&lt;br /&gt;Thank You Lord Jesus for all Your love brings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8074125291374071002?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8074125291374071002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/saints-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8074125291374071002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8074125291374071002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/saints-day.html' title='A Saint&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TRCFP0zySVI/AAAAAAAAAN8/tOp5jvQv2SQ/s72-c/prayer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-9060883603946207441</id><published>2010-12-18T18:03:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T19:04:16.646-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>No Room At The Inn</title><content type='html'>From the day when His time here would begin, &lt;br /&gt;the story is told that there was no room at the Inn.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Imagine, the Son of Man - no place for His head, &lt;br /&gt;The Child whom would soon be raising the dead. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In a temple which really belonged to Him, &lt;br /&gt;after driving out men in a money making whim...  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He said, "Foxes have holes, and birds have their nest, &lt;br /&gt;but the Son of Man has no place to rest."  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Later, when they killed Him and laid Him in a tomb, &lt;br /&gt;even there He would find that there was no room.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;His search still wasn't over for a place He could rest, &lt;br /&gt;until the will of His Father completed His quest.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He returned to heaven as planned from the start, &lt;br /&gt;so that now He need only find room in our heart. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Will you open your heart and let Christ in, &lt;br /&gt;or is it still that... there's no room at the Inn.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  "No Room At The Inn"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-9060883603946207441?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/9060883603946207441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/no-room-at-inn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/9060883603946207441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/9060883603946207441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/no-room-at-inn.html' title='No Room At The Inn'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8844501879353141909</id><published>2010-12-02T12:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T12:04:22.003-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Warm Winter Ahead</title><content type='html'>It's cold outside... that may be so, &lt;br /&gt;but in my heart thoughts are aglow.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Like logs feeding the flames of a toasty fire, &lt;br /&gt;so too, my thoughts of you whom I admire. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Yes, thinking of you, it'll be a warm winter season, &lt;br /&gt;as Christ's work gives way to all of love's reason. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8844501879353141909?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8844501879353141909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/warm-winter-ahead.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8844501879353141909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8844501879353141909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/12/warm-winter-ahead.html' title='Warm Winter Ahead'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6871854472785959742</id><published>2010-11-09T07:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T07:19:25.802-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>His Delight</title><content type='html'>I looked for what it was You may have seen in me,&lt;br /&gt;upon for which had brought favor toward my destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I searched within with all my might,&lt;br /&gt;to find one thing for Your delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking back I could not find,&lt;br /&gt;nothing good had come to mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was it something future tense,&lt;br /&gt;my heart jumping with such suspense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Your Word revealed the sum of all it's light,&lt;br /&gt;my fate was set on nothing more that Your delight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6871854472785959742?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6871854472785959742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/his-delight.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6871854472785959742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6871854472785959742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/his-delight.html' title='His Delight'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5661301717852901914</id><published>2010-11-08T05:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T05:46:08.905-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>His Return To Heaven</title><content type='html'>Is it no wonder the earth was shook with such a wave, &lt;br /&gt;that dead were raised from beneath the grave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day when God provided His sacrifice, &lt;br /&gt;a day when Love would pay it's greatest price. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For until that day when on the cross He'd hung, &lt;br /&gt;no greater song had all of heaven sung. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Returning back from where He came, &lt;br /&gt;received He then His Precious Name. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Lamb of God" whom they had slain, &lt;br /&gt;rejoiced the heavens for what was gain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could not the whole expanse absorb, &lt;br /&gt;The great triumph made for so small an orb. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all the heavens dance and sing, &lt;br /&gt;returned He then the King of kings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5661301717852901914?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5661301717852901914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/his-return-to-heaven.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5661301717852901914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5661301717852901914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/his-return-to-heaven.html' title='His Return To Heaven'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6861365801402441409</id><published>2010-11-07T06:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-02T13:31:55.218-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keep Searching'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>A Trail of Great Design</title><content type='html'>Oh how I'd search for the truth, &lt;br /&gt;even since the days of youth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking things apart to find, &lt;br /&gt;if it worked as it had in my mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mysteries were always there, &lt;br /&gt;drawing me to stop and stare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day it occurred to me, &lt;br /&gt;the lure was not to all the mystery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For in all those wonders so divine, &lt;br /&gt;there laid a trail of great design. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For behind a design there must be a mind, &lt;br /&gt;so this became my quest for to find. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always on the edge of my belief, &lt;br /&gt;yet, the design lay in one great motif. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I found what seemed to be His plan, &lt;br /&gt;but was it the work of common man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My search since from my youth, &lt;br /&gt;Now focused on what's called His truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Closer and closer to truth I'd find, &lt;br /&gt;chipping away at the doubt in my mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my search of truth was not complete, &lt;br /&gt;until I fell before His feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, dear friend... I hope my other two letters have got you really digging now. As I promised, I have brought with me some examples of non-Christian writings, which add to the reliability of biblical truths. These writings are from ancient documents found, just as similarly as the original bible writings were. And too, these have undergone the same tests of identification of dates, authenticity, etc., as biblical writings. But I think it is important for us to listen to what these non-Christian writers say about Jesus, Christians, and events of their day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cornelius Tacitus was a Roman historian who wrote two major works... the "Annals" and the "Histories". Tacitus refers to Christ in the Annals, which he wrote in 115 AD. In this passage he records the great fire that occurred in Rome. Nero, looking for a scapegoat placed the blame on the Christians. Tacitus wrote, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consequently, to get rid of the report, Nero fastened the guilt and inflicted the most exquisite tortures on a class hated for their abominations, called Christians by the populace. Christus from whom the name had its origin, suffered the extreme penalty during the reign of Tiberius at the hands of one of our procurators, Pontius Pilatus, and a most mischievous superstition, thus checked for the moment, again broke out not only in Judea, the first source of evil, but even in Rome, where all things hideous and shameful from every part of the world find their center and become popular. (Tacitus, Annals, 15.44) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this passage we learn several facts. First, we see that the community at large hated Christians for their "abominations." Second, Christians received their name from Christ (Christus in Latin). Third, We see Christ was a historical figure. And Fourth, that Christ died during the reign of Emperor Tiberius (14-37 AD). Fifth, that Christ was put to death by the procurator Pontius Pilate. Keep in mind that there was no physical evidence of Pilate until 1971, when a stone tablet was found that marked a building he had made as a monument of some kind. The tablet says it was from Pontius Pilate. Anyway, we continue... Sixth, Christ's death ended the spread of Christianity for a short time. Seventh, Christianity originated in the land of Judea. And finally, that Christianity spread rapidly throughout the Roman Empire beginning in Judea and spreading even to Rome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These facts recorded by Tacitus affirm several facts mentioned in the Gospels and the book of Acts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thallus in 52 AD, wrote a history of the Eastern Mediterranean world from the Trojan War to his day. Although much of his work is lost, Julius Africanus writing in 221 AD quotes Thallus. Regarding the death of Christ Thallus wrote, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One the whole world there pressed a most fearful darkness; and the rocks were rent by an earthquake, and many places in Judea and other districts were thrown down. This darkness Thallus, in the third book of his History, calls, as appears to me without reason, an eclipse of the sun. (Julius Africanus,Chronography 18.1) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thallus reveals several facts in this passage. First, the crucifixion account was known in the Mediterranean world. Second, darkness covered the land on the hour of Christ's death. Third, an earthquake shook the city. Fourth unbelievers knew of the supernatural events surrounding the death of Christ and were offering a naturalistic explanation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pliny was the governor of Bythnia in Asia Minor. In 112 AD, Pliny writes a letter to Emperor Trajan regarding the Christians. His province was experiencing financial difficulties because his economy depended on the religious festivities surrounding the pagan religions and temples. The spread of Christianity was hurting this industry and he was seeking a way to deal with the Christians. He wrote in his letter the following: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They (the Christians) were in the habit of meeting on a certain fixed day before it was light, when they sang in alternate verses a hymn to Christ, as to a god and bound themselves by a solemn oath, not to any wicked deeds, but never to commit any fraud, theft or adultery, never to falsify their word, nor deny a trust when they should be called upon to deliver it up; after which it was their custom to separate, and then reassemble to partake of food – but food of an ordinary and innocent kind. (Pliny the Younger,Letter, 10:96) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this passage we learn several facts about early Christianity. First, the Christians worshipped Christ as God. This strikes a serious blow to skeptics who attempt to promote the idea that Christ was a man who was promoted to divine status by Christians in the fourth century AD at the Council of Nicea. Second, the Christians followed closely the ethical code taught by Christ. Third, the "food" Pliny refers to is probably the sacraments of communion which would show this meal was celebrated by the Christians. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seutonis was the chief secretary to Emperor Hadrian (117-138 AD). Seutonis first mentions the Christians when he refers to a series of riots that broke out in Rome in 49 AD during the reign of Emperor Claudius (41- 54 AD). He wrote, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because the Jews at Rome caused continuous disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus, he expelled them from the city." (Seutonius,Life of Claudius, 25.4) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a second reference, he writes regarding Nero's persecution of the Christians. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"After the great fire at Rome …. Punishments were also inflicted on the Christians, a sect professing a new and mischievous religious belief." (Seutonius,Life of Nero, 16) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From these two brief references we learn the following. First, the Jews were expelled from Rome during the reign of Claudius (which coincides with Acts 18:2). Second, Christ was the reason for the Jewish riots. Christians referred to believers who followed Christ. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Lucian was a second century Greek satirist. He spoke very negatively of Christians accusing them of being gullible and believing in a charlatan. He wrote, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Christians, you know, worship a man to this day – the distinguished personage who introduced their novel rites, and was crucified on that account…. You see, these misguided creatures start with the general conviction that they are immortal for all time, which explains the contempt of death and voluntary self-devotion which are so common among them; and then it was impressed on them by their original law giver that they are all brothers, from the moment that they are converted, and deny the gods of Greece, and worship the crucified sage, and live after his laws. All this they take quite on faith, with the result that they despise all worldly goods alike, regarding them merely a common property. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many more writings like this, my friend, but these should raise the hair on your neck, if you think about it. I will come back to you soon, but I will also be praying for you to consider what I have shared with you and "come on in". There are a great number of believers whom have not heard some of what I am sharing with you, yet they believe. But I know it's important that YOU totally believe or you're just not gonna do it, and that will mean a lot to God when you finally do! Remember... Take your time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Keep Searching - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-burning-desire.html"&gt;Part I&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/greatest-truths.html"&gt;Part II&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/trail-of-great-design.html"&gt;Part III&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/is-that-all-there-is.html"&gt;Part IV&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6861365801402441409?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6861365801402441409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/trail-of-great-design.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6861365801402441409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6861365801402441409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/trail-of-great-design.html' title='A Trail of Great Design'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7967159144518081281</id><published>2010-11-06T08:23:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-06T09:27:42.246-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>1 Corinthians 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-patient_15.html"&gt;Love endures long and is patient&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;br&gt;waiting for the Holy Spirit's afferent. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-kind_14.html"&gt;Love is always kind&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;br&gt;reaching out to all mankind. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-not-envious_13.html"&gt;Love is never envious or jealous,&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;but for their blessing we are zealous. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-not-boastful.html"&gt;Love is never boastful or vainglorious,&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;/a&gt;instead believes all are meritorious. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         Love does not display itself haughtily, &lt;br /&gt;         and seeks instead humility. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-not-conceited.html"&gt;Love is not conceited or puffed up in pride, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         but depending on truth to keep it in stride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-not-rude.html"&gt;Love is not rude and doesn't act unbecomingly, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         willing instead to be gentle and mannerly. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;               Love does not insist on its own rights or its own way, &lt;br /&gt;         yielding to others all through the day. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-not-self-seeking.html"&gt;Love is not self-seeking&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;br /&gt;         through Christ's interceding. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Love is not fretful or resentful,&lt;br /&gt;         with a prayer-life eventful. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-takes-no-account-of-evil.html"&gt;Love takes no account of the evil done to it, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         surrendering to God we're able to bare it. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-doesnt-rejoice-at-injustice.html"&gt;Love does not rejoice at injustice or unrighteousness, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but mournful we ask for God's mercy and forgiveness. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         Love rejoices when right and truth prevail, &lt;br /&gt;         giving glory to God for those who avail. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-bears-up-under-anything.html"&gt;Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         believing that ultimately His will be done. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-believes-best-in-everyone.html"&gt;Love is ever ready to believe the best of everyone&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;br /&gt;         never really knowing what the other has undergone. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;               &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/loves-hopes-are-fadeless.html"&gt;Love's hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         trusting in God no matter the consequences.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;             Love endures everything, &lt;br /&gt;         and suffers through anything. &lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;a href="http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-never-fails.html"&gt;Love never fails and never fades out, &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         our faith in God leaves us without a doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7967159144518081281?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7967159144518081281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/1-corinthians-13.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7967159144518081281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7967159144518081281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/1-corinthians-13.html' title='1 Corinthians 13'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4209403884387286239</id><published>2010-11-04T07:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T11:19:30.185-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Little Janey-Rae</title><content type='html'>Yes... I fell in love with Miss Janey-Rae too, &lt;br /&gt;but it was a little difer'nt than maybe, say you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, I fell in love with the little Janey-Rae, &lt;br /&gt;when grown, she'd tell me what her Daddy'd say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come late every evening, most every other day, &lt;br /&gt;he'd say, "let's go to bed now, little Janey-Rae". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life had been hard for little Janey-Rae, &lt;br /&gt;till one day came along, she was able to get away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, meeting Daddy's approval way back when,&lt;br /&gt;had made her still seek it, from too many men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couldn't get Janey-Rae to see - here, she could stay,&lt;br /&gt;but, somedays I still pray, for Little Janey-Rae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  "Little Janey-Rae"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4209403884387286239?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4209403884387286239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/s-i-n.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4209403884387286239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4209403884387286239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/s-i-n.html' title='Little Janey-Rae'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7667803646841785106</id><published>2010-11-02T05:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T05:52:47.572-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Greatest Truths</title><content type='html'>Sifting through all the facts of life, &lt;br /&gt;there was always one that caused me strife. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not harder than the others to believe, &lt;br /&gt;nor impossible for me to begin to conceive. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in among the truths that I had learned, &lt;br /&gt;It was this one that in my heart so burned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was He really there or was it me... &lt;br /&gt;to find this truth became my quest you see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all the truths, to me made known, &lt;br /&gt;it was these writings, said, to be His own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so my journey led me back through time, &lt;br /&gt;Combing through all that I could find. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Archaeological records and ancient history, &lt;br /&gt;anything that would help me solve this mystery. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at the point when in Him I began to believe, &lt;br /&gt;when suddenly His truths became what I could cleave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True, the more you read and understand of a certain writer, &lt;br /&gt;the more your knowledge of them becomes brighter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of these truths I had searched it was not so, &lt;br /&gt;they could not be understood until Him I came to know. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so ever since the day I met The Lord, &lt;br /&gt;my understanding of life's truths has soared. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, the greatest truths to be unfurled, &lt;br /&gt;can only come from Him whom holds the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Here I am, my friend... as I promised. The poem kinda sums up what I said in my first letter to you. But I don't want to get ahead of things. I can't assume that you're ready to "give in" yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned last time, that I would talk more about the reliability of the bible. Of course this was so important to me and I know it is the same way with you too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We must consider that the "reputable" bible translations were produced by a careful scholarship, through: textual criticism, linguistics, translation, grammar, vocabulary, style, and history. Various texts of the original language Testaments (Hebrew and Aramaic of the Old Testament and Greek of the New Testament) are published and generally available to actually see, along with documented accounts of how the texts were derived from existing copies over time. We must also consider that those scholars worked together, to ensure that the original languages were understood and translated accurately into the receptor language. You and I were not the first skeptics to have been born since those efforts were made... I know you've considered this, also. But, you can also find those arguments out there just as well... each with various interpretations of the renderings.... You can read and study them too. That is what I have done with my favored translation (The Amplified). In my study of the Amplified, I have researched critical, or key words, all the way back to the original word and noted important points through my copy. But I am confident of it's closeness to the original intent and meaning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some translations, such as the New American Standard, favor "formal equivalence," preserving much of the original language structure and vocabulary equivalence. Sometimes readers have difficulty understanding a culturally, linguistically, or historically unique statement with no close English parallel. Other translations, such as the New International Version, combine formal equivalence with "dynamic equivalence" for culturally or historically obscure texts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Paul's writings in the bible, he talks of the "sinful flesh" in a cultural and religious context that associates "flesh" with sacrifices, but in our culture, it is more readily understood as "sin nature" (Romans 7:18 NIV). Whether you prefer the literary beauty of the New King James, the complexities of the New American Standard, the concise clarity of the New International, or some other reputable translation, the text of the bibles we have today are still "essentially" what was written originally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure you are also aware of the fulfilled prophecies contained within the text of the bible. Most popular or made aware of are those describing (with great detail) the coming of Jesus Christ, which were written some 900 years before it happened. But I should mention a few that have happened since that time. One is the mention of the Jewish people becoming it's own nation. You know this did not happen until 1948. Imagine what skeptics thought of this prophecy even up to the day before it came to pass. Yet, so many people had reached a "faithful" belief of the text for so many years before 1948. Even in the specific date that it did occur, there are amazing secrets revealed, but back to the issue of things happening long after this book foretells them... you must admit, it's "perfect" score, so far, says something! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most disputes about the truthfulness of the Bible can be grouped into three categories: (1) misunderstandings; (2) ignorance of the facts; (3) dislike of its teachings. One example of an interpretive Bible problem is the common misunderstanding that "God of the Old Testament" is harshly judgmental while "Jesus of the New Testament" is lovingly forgiving. However, the God of the Bible is consistent from Genesis to Revelation in bringing judgment against unrepentant sin and forgiveness to those who repent... both attributed to love. Ezekiel 18 explains, "Is my way unjust? Is it not your ways that are unjust? If a righteous man turns from his righteousness and commits sin, he will die for it... But if a wicked man turns away from the wickedness he has committed and does what is just and right, he will save his life... I will judge you, each one according to his ways, declares the Sovereign Lord. Repent! Turn away from all your offenses you have committed, and get a new heart and a new spirit...I take no pleasure in the death of anyone... Repent and live!" (vv. 25-32). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus makes the same kind of declaration in Matthew 23, pronouncing judgment against the Pharisees, calling them "blind fools," "hypocrites," "sons of hell," "full of hypocrisy and wickedness," "condemned to hell." But his loving desire for them to repent is evident as well: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing" (v. 37). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interpretive (called hermeneutic in literary terms) problems range from misunderstanding the type of literature in a passage (confusing poetry with historical narrative, for example), through vocabulary, to confusing time and circumstance differences between two events. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ignorance of the facts concerning the trustworthiness of the Bible can be embarrassing for critics. For example, for many years doubters disputed the New Testament accounts concerning Pontius Pilate. No hard artifact evidence existed confirming his existence and position, and later extra-biblical historical mention of him and his position was suspected as having been improperly assumed from the Christian scriptures and later creeds. Then, in 1961, archaeologists unearthed an early first century theater inscription at Caesarea Maritime in Israel, dedicated from "Pontius Pilate, Prefect of Judea," to "Tiberius Caesar." What the Christians had preserved in scripture and creed had achieved hard artifact verification nearly 2,000 years later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, some say they distrust the Bible when they really mean they don't like or agree with it. However, the Bible has more supporting its truthfulness than does any critic. The historical and textual evidence of the resurrection of Christ from the dead, for example, would compel anyone who did not already discount the existence of God to accept its reality. When Christ endorses the Bible, the wise man believes the Bible, even if he dislikes it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to point out one more point in prophecies as it relates to the reliability of this bible, before I end this portion of my writing to you. Putting aside all those that have been fulfilled, we can look at those yet to have happened and find a sense of wonder. It should be quite alarming for even the skeptic to see how aligned history, news of current events, political and social plans for tomorrow, etc... with the detailed descriptions surrounding the bibles future prophecies in the books of Matthew, Revelations, and (if you understand dual prophecy... you can add Daniel, as well). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my urgencies in writing to you has a lot to do with these prophecies, because I am convinced that one of the end-time prophecies will leave you in a very terrible predicament... Should it occur before I have time to convince you to "come on in". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 Corinthians 15:51-54 "Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed - in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's look at Daniel 12: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dan. 12:1-3 "At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations until then. But at that time your people — everyone whose name is found written in the book — will be delivered. Multitudes who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake: some to everlasting life, others to shame and everlasting contempt." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now look at 1 Thessalonians 4:15-18: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;1 Thess: 4:15-18 "According to the Lord's own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't want to miss being a part of this event, because what happens after this is going to really be hard for those left, to endure. Well, I better stop here for now, my friend... but I hope you will keep searching. I am believing in you and I know as you get to the bottom of some of these issues, you will let go and let The Creator of this world really begin to pour out more truth than you can imagine. I want to go into non-christian truths that actually add to the reliability of the bible... Next time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you friend. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Keep Searching - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/my-burning-desire.html"&gt;Part I&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/greatest-truths.html"&gt;Part II&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/trail-of-great-design.html"&gt;Part III&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/03/is-that-all-there-is.html"&gt;Part IV&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7667803646841785106?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7667803646841785106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/greatest-truths.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7667803646841785106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7667803646841785106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/greatest-truths.html' title='The Greatest Truths'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7965260292991189791</id><published>2010-11-01T17:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-02T05:48:02.692-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Power Of The Tongue</title><content type='html'>From many truths on to another I've swung,&lt;br /&gt;but to one I know that I've now clung, &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Of things I thought strong to pick among, &lt;br /&gt;one goes back as far as when I was young.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It was strong before my first bat was swung,&lt;br /&gt;stronger before my first ball was flung.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Stronger yet than the heart or lung, &lt;br /&gt;a strength my hands have never rung.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Unmatched was the power of words I've slung, &lt;br /&gt;the strongest thing in me has been my tongue.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7965260292991189791?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7965260292991189791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/power-of-tongue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7965260292991189791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7965260292991189791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/11/power-of-tongue.html' title='Power Of The Tongue'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6635365984024142492</id><published>2010-10-30T06:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T10:31:57.991-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>My Matador</title><content type='html'>Mighty is He in the center of the arena... my Matador. &lt;br /&gt;His omnipotence the focus of the crowd... "Mi Amor". &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The scarlet cape flowing down from the Matador's hand, &lt;br /&gt;the other draws His sword, and the crowd begins to stand.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Flared nostrils, snorting anger, the beast enters the ring.&lt;br /&gt;it's horns sharp and ready to deliver their sting.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Scraping the earth up into a cloud, &lt;br /&gt;the beast's rage sends fear up through the crowd.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The Matador taunts blood red before the beast's eyes, &lt;br /&gt;and furiously it thunders toward the Matador's surprise.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Roaring through scarlet to find flesh it may gored, &lt;br /&gt;but the Matador has already delivered His sword. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My Matador, Mi Amor.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6635365984024142492?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6635365984024142492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-matador.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6635365984024142492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6635365984024142492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-matador.html' title='My Matador'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4781733805102912430</id><published>2010-10-28T09:03:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-30T06:24:18.263-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Pencil-Maker's Prayer</title><content type='html'>The Pencil-Maker prayed for the journey each would embark.&lt;br /&gt;assuring that everything they did they'd always leave a mark.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;That each would always be able to correct, &lt;br /&gt;the mistakes they'd make, to become perfect.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;His prayer for each pencil reminded them, one thing to do,&lt;br /&gt;to remember what was important was inside of you. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And there'd be painful times that would test their temper,  &lt;br /&gt;but the procedure would each time make them sharper.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;He said, "To be the best pencil, you must allow, &lt;br /&gt;to be guided by the hand that holds you now".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4781733805102912430?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4781733805102912430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/pencil-makers-prayer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4781733805102912430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4781733805102912430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/pencil-makers-prayer.html' title='The Pencil-Maker&apos;s Prayer'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4062144111716362029</id><published>2010-10-25T06:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T07:58:18.331-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Two Tents'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>A Poem of Two Tents</title><content type='html'>&lt;img border="0" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2053/1524424780_19ee1af420.jpg" width="160" height="119"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Father loves to camp with me.&lt;br /&gt;He says I am His tent you see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says it hasn't always been this way &lt;br /&gt;He use to camp with us a different way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A separate tent behind a heavy curtain.&lt;br /&gt;Our relationship then, was not so certain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A system of continual sacrifice, &lt;br /&gt;which never completely paid the price. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A shadow of The One Whom now has come.&lt;br /&gt;A sacrifice complete for the total sum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now my Father camps with me &lt;br /&gt;His life He lives inside of me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited! The Lord has been drawing me to His Word about "Two Tents" for some time. I was confused of the meaning and direction at first, and I continued praying and studying His Word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe I have been faithful to present Gods' Word as it relates to what He was leading me to in this four-part series. I believe it reveals - even further still, how much God has loved us. I think it will allow many of us to feel His love more than ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Two Tents - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/02/two-tents.html"&gt;Part I&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/02/sinful-nature.html"&gt;Part II&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/02/first-tent-temple_3367.html"&gt;Part III&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://the-heartcry.blogspot.com/2010/02/second-tent-our-heart.html"&gt;Part IV&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4062144111716362029?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4062144111716362029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/poem-of-two-tents.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4062144111716362029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4062144111716362029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/poem-of-two-tents.html' title='A Poem of Two Tents'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2053/1524424780_19ee1af420_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5220080833365001454</id><published>2010-10-24T15:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T06:42:38.624-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Patience of God</title><content type='html'>The patience of God is to hold off from judgment,&lt;br /&gt;that one more soul might surrender repentant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The patience of God holds mountains from sway,&lt;br /&gt;allowing His people to continue to pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God's patience is more with Himself you see,&lt;br /&gt;so others like me - His children they'd be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patience is the fruit of our God's great love,&lt;br /&gt;without it patience there'd be no such thing of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let God's love bear patience so as to transcend,&lt;br /&gt;thus bringing God's plan for salvation to end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5220080833365001454?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5220080833365001454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/patience-of-god.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5220080833365001454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5220080833365001454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/patience-of-god.html' title='The Patience of God'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8543014111481294380</id><published>2010-10-24T07:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T07:40:46.594-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The HeartCry</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TMQXt9Dqv6I/AAAAAAAAAMw/_Apifv5rYvI/s1600/hc2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 161px; height: 179px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TMQXt9Dqv6I/AAAAAAAAAMw/_Apifv5rYvI/s400/hc2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531572320569311138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is it true the heart doth cry".&lt;br /&gt;"I hope it is" said dry eye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I often hear it's desperate plea", &lt;br /&gt;was the response from bended knee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again. the mind surprised by this, &lt;br /&gt;"what cause has brought such amiss". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the lips said "hold on there, &lt;br /&gt;'twas the heart that always sent me prayer". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praying hands could not keep quite, &lt;br /&gt;and blurted out, "you can't deny it". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh mind with all your great control, &lt;br /&gt;did you not know the heart speaks for the soul". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That little poem has so much packed into it, and it could use a little more work, I think. But, as a lead-in to what is most important to me, and to The Lord... I would rather put more of my time into the study of Gods' Word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hear the term "Heart Cry" from time to time and I believe most people understand it as likened to a yearning deep within... for or out of compassion. It can be referred to as a crying out for the affection of someone, or a heart already filled with deep emotion that just can't be contained, and it can also be the result of someone in great physical and/or emotional pain... trying to reach out for help. It can mean many different things to many people, but isn't it interesting that it's always described as the heart that is crying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus spoke about the heart often during His physical presence here on earth. His teachings concerning the heart, both directly from Him and through His disciples, run throughout the New Testament and yet man struggles with the connection to the reality and spiritual significance of the human heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Matthew 15:8 "These people draw near Me with their mouths and honor Me with their lips, but their hearts hold off and are far away from Me." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this verse from Matthew, Jesus is talking about how some group of people appear to draw close to Him by the things they say, but then He contrasts this to a strange reference about "our subject", the heart... being held off, far away from Him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is easy for Christians to understand that Christ is talking about "people pretending to love Him, yet do not know Him"... but do we understand the literal implication of this verse and others like it. That is where we are going with this study today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strongest muscle in the body... an adult heart pumps about 5 quarts of blood each minute - approximately 2,000 gallons each day. It's system of arteries, veins, and capillaries is over 60,000 miles long. Your heart is in the center of your chest between your lungs, although, the bottom is tipped to the left, and that is why you physically feel more of your heart on the left side of your chest. The heart beats about 100,000 times each day. In a 70-year lifetime, the average human heart beats more than 2.5 billion times. An adult woman's heart weighs about 8 ounces, a man's about 10 ounces. A child's heart is about the size of a clenched fist; an adult's heart is about the size of two fists. These are some of the facts about the physical aspect of this vital organ Jesus often refers to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Absent" of neurons, cerebrum, hippocampus, or any of the physical parts that are associated with cognitive functioning, it is hard to perceive the heart as something that thinks, reasons, or believes. So what do we make of scripture verses like these next few: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Matthew 15:18 "But whatever comes out of the mouth comes from the heart, and this is what makes a man unclean and defiles [him]." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Luke 6:45 "The upright (honorable, intrinsically good) man out of the good treasure [stored] in his heart produces what is upright (honorable and intrinsically good), and the evil man out of the evil storehouse brings forth that which is depraved (wicked and intrinsically evil); for out of the abundance (overflow) of the heart his mouth speaks." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;John 13:2 "So [it was] during supper, Satan having already put the thought of betraying Jesus in the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if the heart is incapable of producing the things (thoughts - evil or good, communication of any kind)that Jesus refers to... what is He talking about? We know it's not the same word used to describe the mind... which He spoke much about also... Remember, He says that we are to Love God with all your heart AND all your mind... so then, what "is" in the heart of all of us that God hears, speaks to... knows, etc. Let's look at some clues in these next few verses which suggest something within the heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;John 13:20 "I assure you, most solemnly I tell you, he who receives and welcomes and takes into his heart any messenger of Mine receives Me [in just that way]; and he who receives and welcomes and takes Me into his heart receives Him Who sent Me [in that same way]." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting closer to the clue... we must listen to what Jesus is saying to His disciples, here in John, chapter 14, just prior to leaving this world in the flesh (physical body). He has just said that He has to go, however... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;John 14:16 "And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, and Standby), that He may remain with you forever-- 17. The Spirit of Truth, Whom the world cannot receive (welcome, take to its heart), because it does not see Him or know and recognize Him. But you know and recognize Him, for He lives with you [constantly] and will be in you. 20. At that time [when that day comes] you will know [for yourselves] that I am in My Father, and you [are] in Me, and I [am] in you. 21. The person who has My commands and keeps them is the one who [really] loves Me; and whoever [really] loves Me will be loved by My Father, and I [too] will love him and will show (reveal, manifest) Myself to him. [I will let Myself be clearly seen by him and make Myself real to him.] 22. Judas, not Iscariot, asked Him, Lord, how is it that You will reveal Yourself [make Yourself real] to us and not to the world? 23. Jesus answered, If a person [really] loves Me, he will keep My word [obey My teaching]; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home (abode, special dwelling place) with him. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here, we read that the Lord, will send the Comforter and He will be "in" us. And He says He - Jesus will be "in" us (this is different than the omnipresence of God that is throughout all things). We will see that it is the heart, that is the abode, special dwelling place of The Holy Spirit... but what about before the indwelling? Who or what was Christ referring to in the heart prior to this? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Genesis 1:26. God said, Let Us [Father, Son, and Holy Spirit] make mankind in Our image, after Our likeness... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:7. Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath or spirit of life, and man became a living being. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:3. Then the Lord said, My Spirit shall not forever dwell and strive with man, for he also is flesh; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Romans 10:10 "For with the heart a person believes (adheres to, trusts in, and relies on Christ) and so is justified (declared righteous, acceptable to God), and with the mouth he confesses (declares openly and speaks out freely his faith) and confirms [his] salvation."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heart is the dwelling place for the Spirit Man... the eternal part of each of us that will never die! From the moment we are born, our unregenerate spirit cries out for love. The deep desire to be loved is purposed in us for one very special purpose. Man feels this desire so strongly, yet is unaware of the ultimate purpose. We may spend our whole life trying to find something or many things to satisfy that deep desire... the "heart cry", and never find the one and only thing that can satisfy the yearning. That's right... God (the Creator) is the only thing that can satisfy the spirit of man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from God, the unregenerate spirit of man thinks evil and is influenced by the presence of evil spirits. Evil spirits may also literally share the heart of many who give way to the devil or are possessed. So, the heart can also be where evil spirits dwell in the case of people that are possessed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the Heart is where the Lord longs to live in all men. The heart is where the Holy Spirit dwells in those whom Christ has saved from eternal death. The most vital human organ which pumps life through every man and woman is also a temporary dwelling place of the spiritual realm. When Christ says He listens to the heart of man, He really is! Before our brain can form a sentence, He has already heard the source (the spirit - Holy or unholy) and thus sees the true nature of what we say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon receiving a new heart - the regenerate spirit - the new man... we also receive The Holy Spirit. The heart cry is also new. With Gods' love abiding in us, now our hearts cry out for the lost in the world. We share Christ's compassion for every man, woman, and child... yes, my friends... the heart cries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ephesians 3:17 "May Christ through your faith [actually] dwell (settle down, abide, make His permanent home) in your hearts! May you be rooted deep in love and founded securely on love." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8543014111481294380?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8543014111481294380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/heartcry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8543014111481294380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8543014111481294380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/heartcry.html' title='The HeartCry'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TMQXt9Dqv6I/AAAAAAAAAMw/_Apifv5rYvI/s72-c/hc2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2622112937472379009</id><published>2010-10-23T08:42:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T17:42:02.009-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Broken Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X0mKd4V5NuY/ThOEcuAr4QI/AAAAAAAAAXg/_O-xnVZeA-s/s1600/BROKEN%2BHEART.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X0mKd4V5NuY/ThOEcuAr4QI/AAAAAAAAAXg/_O-xnVZeA-s/s320/BROKEN%2BHEART.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625985988437991682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know I was one of God's broken things,&lt;br /&gt;setting out on life with my young wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When times were hard I blamed the world,&lt;br /&gt;for all the problems that unfurled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it became clearer that maybe I was broken,&lt;br /&gt;I ignored the things that God had spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God has such a way with broken things,&lt;br /&gt;His tender love into our hearts He brings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He knows about all the things that we endure,&lt;br /&gt;and for those not meant for us He sends a cure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broken things were never what He wanted, &lt;br /&gt;He picks us up and sets us back undaunted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, God so loves the broken things.&lt;br /&gt;for His mending love, our heart sings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the praise of heaven's angels rings,&lt;br /&gt;as God restores the broken things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "Broken Things"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2622112937472379009?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2622112937472379009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/broken-things.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2622112937472379009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2622112937472379009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/broken-things.html' title='Broken Things'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X0mKd4V5NuY/ThOEcuAr4QI/AAAAAAAAAXg/_O-xnVZeA-s/s72-c/BROKEN%2BHEART.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4144301296938974426</id><published>2010-10-20T08:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T08:02:16.153-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Call Blocked</title><content type='html'>Father, You know I surrendered my life to You,&lt;br /&gt;but can we talk about this thing You want me to do. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Teacher, you know how I love to read Your Word, &lt;br /&gt;but this is the greatest music I've ever heard.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Master, what will You have me to do, &lt;br /&gt;as soon as I'm done with a thing or two.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Lord, I know You say we're to be equally yoked, &lt;br /&gt;but isn't this one everything that I've ever hoped. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Lord... Master... Teacher, hello.  Father?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4144301296938974426?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4144301296938974426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/call-blocked.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4144301296938974426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4144301296938974426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/call-blocked.html' title='Call Blocked'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5426339338096191291</id><published>2010-10-15T13:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-15T13:18:13.211-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>His Will I Cry</title><content type='html'>I screamed in silent prayer,&lt;br /&gt;to my Lord I knew was there.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I climbed on bended knee, &lt;br /&gt;to the throne I knew He'd be.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And though no voice was heard, &lt;br /&gt;I could hear my Father's Word.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;From trials to Trilogy, and tests to testimony, &lt;br /&gt;I stand with my Maker in a Holy matrimony.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;From victim to victor, from stained to saint, &lt;br /&gt;though the tempter tries, no longer I faint.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Still, I cry to my Lord in prayer, &lt;br /&gt;but, His will now is all I care. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5426339338096191291?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5426339338096191291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/his-will-i-cry.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5426339338096191291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5426339338096191291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/his-will-i-cry.html' title='His Will I Cry'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6695010893865062927</id><published>2010-10-13T16:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T01:11:58.537-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Love's Song</title><content type='html'>The master sits before His sheet of time, &lt;br /&gt;collecting His song into a celestial rhyme. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A prayer there, and a loving gesture here, &lt;br /&gt;selecting notes from each whom He loves dear. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A song the Master makes from the notes hung, &lt;br /&gt;on a sheet of time His music's now strung. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A symphony of sound collected from heart, &lt;br /&gt;strung together now by the Master's art.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6695010893865062927?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6695010893865062927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/loves-song.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6695010893865062927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6695010893865062927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/loves-song.html' title='Love&apos;s Song'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6305617198153908351</id><published>2010-10-07T23:16:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T23:18:55.703-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>For Now</title><content type='html'>My thoughts they wander up into the skies,&lt;br /&gt;in my hope to see You, I close my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Word still fresh upon my heart,&lt;br /&gt;this world I am not afraid to depart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Timeless, hushed, where only light I see,&lt;br /&gt;for now I guess this is as close as I'll be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'll come back again in hopes to find,&lt;br /&gt;that no longer this world I'll be confined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6305617198153908351?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6305617198153908351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/for-now.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6305617198153908351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6305617198153908351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/for-now.html' title='For Now'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6821287786816581627</id><published>2010-10-05T12:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T12:47:16.464-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Consumed</title><content type='html'>Lying there in a pool of my own tears,&lt;br /&gt;finally faced with the fruit of my years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of my drive, my longing, the striving of mind,&lt;br /&gt;came close to this "thing" my heart needed to find.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw all my achievement now piled up like wood,&lt;br /&gt;none of it helped me like I hoped that it would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a spark floating down His presence came to be,&lt;br /&gt;igniting and consuming the wood laid before me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that was left now was just He and I,&lt;br /&gt;and suddenly my heart gave up a new cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cry filled with joy for all of my loss,&lt;br /&gt;a joy that my suffering had lead to the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6821287786816581627?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6821287786816581627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/consumed.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6821287786816581627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6821287786816581627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/consumed.html' title='Consumed'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8145468884378679635</id><published>2010-09-29T06:52:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-03T13:02:56.721-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Power Of Love</title><content type='html'>Such power I thought... if I just could have kept it, &lt;br /&gt;but, it wasn't to hold no more than for the skeptic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see now, it's not something a person can control, &lt;br /&gt;unlike reason or wit, it comes up from the soul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's from the relationship with the Creator above, &lt;br /&gt;bubbling up from within a great river of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Washing away all of that part of me from old, &lt;br /&gt;leaving me with a heart more precious than gold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No longer was it me whom was expressing love,  &lt;br /&gt;but through me came out all that was Him Above. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Letting go of my desire for control of such power, &lt;br /&gt;allowed the freedom of my heart for God to devour. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "The Power Of Love"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8145468884378679635?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8145468884378679635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/power-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8145468884378679635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8145468884378679635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/power-of-love.html' title='Power Of Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2597897597165053514</id><published>2010-09-28T10:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T12:49:28.810-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>God Is Love</title><content type='html'>We cannot stand before God no matter how it please us, &lt;br /&gt;without the holy covering of His Son - Christ Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not God's fault that His presence is consuming,  &lt;br /&gt;that Jesus alone in holiness was able and assuming.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And without His cover there is only one other place, &lt;br /&gt;for lost spirits, both angels, and of the human race.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For God has done everything in His power that He can, &lt;br /&gt;through the sacrifice of Jesus for the souls of man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While there will be joy in the harvest He'll gather,  &lt;br /&gt;there will be sorrow for the tares that He had rather. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For God so loved the world that He gave His Son, &lt;br /&gt;that none would be lost... no not even one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2597897597165053514?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2597897597165053514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/god-is-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2597897597165053514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2597897597165053514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/10/god-is-love.html' title='God Is Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8188539899007052235</id><published>2010-09-26T06:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T06:19:01.126-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Hearts Intertwined</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TJ39UzbBZiI/AAAAAAAAALw/5KuHQ113wgk/s1600/water+lily.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TJ39UzbBZiI/AAAAAAAAALw/5KuHQ113wgk/s320/water+lily.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520847252068853282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearts set on Him divine, &lt;br /&gt;bound by love they intertwine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like lily pads on a tranquil pond, &lt;br /&gt;one is moved and all respond. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each heart beating yet all as one, &lt;br /&gt;a song to God by what He's done. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like fallen snow not two alike, &lt;br /&gt;they bind to adorn the highest pike. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearts filled by and for, &lt;br /&gt;One so loved forever more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bond unchanged by space and time, &lt;br /&gt;linked through eternity in single rhyme. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As He desires to take one home, &lt;br /&gt;those left are never left alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8188539899007052235?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8188539899007052235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/06/hearts-intertwined.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8188539899007052235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8188539899007052235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/06/hearts-intertwined.html' title='Hearts Intertwined'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TJ39UzbBZiI/AAAAAAAAALw/5KuHQ113wgk/s72-c/water+lily.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1734792314577754442</id><published>2010-09-25T03:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T07:11:34.744-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>This Side of Love</title><content type='html'>There is a side of love that must be shown.&lt;br /&gt;The side that leaves with us a silent moan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should not hide this love so deep.&lt;br /&gt;The side I mean that makes us weep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For what is love so sweet and nice.&lt;br /&gt;That we could give without sacrifice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the love that's from the heart&lt;br /&gt;is meant for joy right from the start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But woven deep within it's passion&lt;br /&gt;a blood was poured into it's fashion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This side of love we give is not for loss&lt;br /&gt;It's rooted in and from the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1734792314577754442?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1734792314577754442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-side-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1734792314577754442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1734792314577754442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/this-side-of-love.html' title='This Side of Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-6677207675320968277</id><published>2010-09-24T06:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T07:23:16.296-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>FOCUS</title><content type='html'>When I focus on the love you send,&lt;br /&gt;a peace fills me up from deep within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I focus on your love,&lt;br /&gt;I am lifted high above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know now, when I turn to see,&lt;br /&gt;all I have done which grievith thee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loose sight, the strength and energy,&lt;br /&gt;needed to live more righteously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to look for any good I might have done,&lt;br /&gt;apart from you, I've not done one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I focus on your love,&lt;br /&gt;together Lord like hand in glove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love You&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-6677207675320968277?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/6677207675320968277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/focus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6677207675320968277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/6677207675320968277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/focus.html' title='FOCUS'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7778547602238683937</id><published>2010-09-23T09:07:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T18:46:12.183-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>1st Commandment</title><content type='html'>Have you never though it just a little odd,&lt;br /&gt;God says, "thou shalt have no other god?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, that whole thing with the guy on a horse's body, &lt;br /&gt;didn't that seem just a little too shoddy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how about the one with the head like a cat, &lt;br /&gt;"hello"... what dummy came up with that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God wasn't suggesting there's ever really been another, &lt;br /&gt;He's just loved us more than even a mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His will is, we'd not fall for things like a beast named Seth, &lt;br /&gt;believing in ridiculous things that only bring us death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His will is, we'd not put things higher in life than He,&lt;br /&gt;rather, that we'd look to Him for all there is to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The command put on stone in such an amazing fashion, &lt;br /&gt;was given out of His most intimate passion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that there ever existed another god to find,&lt;br /&gt;but so that you and I would not be left behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  "The First Command"&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7778547602238683937?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7778547602238683937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/1st-commandment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7778547602238683937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7778547602238683937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/1st-commandment.html' title='1st Commandment'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2774839841783520028</id><published>2010-09-23T06:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T09:14:03.533-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>You, My Oasis</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TI49uYf0YLI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1iYSKrVeqS4/s1600/Oasiscr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TI49uYf0YLI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1iYSKrVeqS4/s320/Oasiscr.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516414460634620082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sand... burning, dry, sand behind me and sand ahead,&lt;br /&gt;where are You, my Lord... am I left here for dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The desert winds have slowly seeped inside,&lt;br /&gt;my heart is scorched as the camel's hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My countenance begs for a drop of Your water,&lt;br /&gt;at night I am left for the beasts to slaughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wander relentless seeking You, My Oasis,&lt;br /&gt;I trek over dune after dune to find no exodus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pull the sand over my body again for a night,&lt;br /&gt;if predator not find me I'll seek You at daylight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are You, My Oasis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes dare to open as the circle of fire rises,&lt;br /&gt;scorpions scurry and return to their disguises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I crawl once again, up and over another dune,&lt;br /&gt;all hope is to die if I cannot find You soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even my own eyes, they lie to me somehow,&lt;br /&gt;for I can almost see You, My Oasis just now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You, the only thing I see that is not sand,&lt;br /&gt;I climb the last dune as quick as I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear, smell, and taste Your water of life,&lt;br /&gt;have I come to the end of my desert strife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel the cool shade of Your great palms,&lt;br /&gt;I am refreshed as my soul is filled with Your Psalms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Lord, You are My Oasis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2774839841783520028?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2774839841783520028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-my-oasis.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2774839841783520028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2774839841783520028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-my-oasis.html' title='You, My Oasis'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TI49uYf0YLI/AAAAAAAAAK4/1iYSKrVeqS4/s72-c/Oasiscr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8967115598487788017</id><published>2010-09-22T06:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T06:38:43.592-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>My One Chance</title><content type='html'>You may have thought of me, a numb-skull,&lt;br /&gt;but I thought this woman was so beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the day I first saw her out there,&lt;br /&gt;one thing I wanted to ask, but did not dare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd see her there, Friday and Saturday night,&lt;br /&gt;cars stopped, would she get in, was my fright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretended my approach a hundred times,&lt;br /&gt;what I'd say seemed to come out in rhymes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who was I kidding, such a beautiful thing,&lt;br /&gt;and me... just carrying on, my heart in a sling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, You my Lord, I see You had the same desire,&lt;br /&gt;no wonder my heart burned with such a fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard the shot's ringing outside the store window,&lt;br /&gt;I knew it was her lying there even in the shadow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knelt beside her and put my hand behind her head,&lt;br /&gt;I knew You had given me this one chance as she bled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I asked the question that for so long I did savor,&lt;br /&gt;"don't you want to repent and come to know our Savior".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8967115598487788017?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8967115598487788017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-one-chance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8967115598487788017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8967115598487788017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-one-chance.html' title='My One Chance'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5013525407591820690</id><published>2010-09-21T06:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T19:40:34.143-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Illuminated Pass</title><content type='html'>Brilliant... shining, wondrous, and radiant white, &lt;br /&gt;I've no way to tell the speed I move into the light. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look for You, but see only Your preeminence, &lt;br /&gt;where am I that everything's the color of radiance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot see myself, nor the space around me now, &lt;br /&gt;time, words, my pain, have fallen away somehow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours for some time now, but, finally all I can see, &lt;br /&gt;is Your radiant light... bright, white, in all Your glory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have passed I see... from my place of testing, &lt;br /&gt;as I move in You now I see heaven cresting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally... forever... and faithful You are, &lt;br /&gt;my Bright... White... and Radiant Star. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman   "Illuminated Pass"&lt;br /&gt;I love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5013525407591820690?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5013525407591820690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/illuminated-pass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5013525407591820690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5013525407591820690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/illuminated-pass.html' title='Illuminated Pass'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-9070221049898320435</id><published>2010-09-20T08:03:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T08:05:33.048-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>At The Cross</title><content type='html'>It was at the cross where I fell with such shame,&lt;br /&gt;the cross was where my heart found acclaim,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the cross that when brought into full view,&lt;br /&gt;I first saw this great love that I now pursue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must believe that upon the cross that darkened day,&lt;br /&gt;that even my sins from today I now must lay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the cross that Christ bridged God and man,&lt;br /&gt;the cross my sins they nailed down through His hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My road was wide and straight to hell indeed,&lt;br /&gt;but not wide enough for the cross to intercede.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-9070221049898320435?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/9070221049898320435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/at-cross.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/9070221049898320435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/9070221049898320435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/at-cross.html' title='At The Cross'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-5900102830371699806</id><published>2010-09-09T07:36:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T08:10:56.180-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>A Pure Heart</title><content type='html'>Whiter and brighter than fresh fallen snow, &lt;br /&gt;Change me Lord Jesus, tell me it's so. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make in me a pureness of heart, &lt;br /&gt;to become another of Your works of art. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all that's dark which lies deep within, &lt;br /&gt;where in my power would I even begin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord cut out that which you so desire, &lt;br /&gt;All that cannot pass through the fire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change my heart Lord tell me it's so, &lt;br /&gt;Whiter and brighter than fresh fallen snow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-5900102830371699806?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/5900102830371699806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/pure-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5900102830371699806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/5900102830371699806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/pure-heart.html' title='A Pure Heart'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-3845122872097169781</id><published>2010-09-08T16:05:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T16:13:53.617-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Love For A Child's Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TIfuXb5NRdI/AAAAAAAAAKw/2z9-EhU5jN0/s1600/cm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TIfuXb5NRdI/AAAAAAAAAKw/2z9-EhU5jN0/s320/cm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514638355130566098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What shaped the mind inside of a little child,&lt;br /&gt;the spirit that impacted it's thoughts compiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was stacked on top of the innocence,&lt;br /&gt;before even a chance at making common sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some it seems they'll never get a chance,&lt;br /&gt;imprisoned by such an evil circumstance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it infuriates God to see the unborn killed,&lt;br /&gt;and He'll avenge those set against what He has willed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, does He not say to Himself, "it's just as well...&lt;br /&gt;than to watch one more child raised in a living hell".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There must be some way to stop man's self genocide,&lt;br /&gt;through changing the hearts so full of hate inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Certainly there is One Whom we know wants it so,&lt;br /&gt;and it has to be through us here, whom Him we know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This love He's given us is said to be our greatest tool,&lt;br /&gt;and so love is what needs to be taught in the school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine if love shaped the mind inside of every child,&lt;br /&gt;a spirit of love loosed upon those thoughts compiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if the church has to become a school then let it be so,&lt;br /&gt;let love then become the most important thing to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-3845122872097169781?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/3845122872097169781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-for-childs-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3845122872097169781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3845122872097169781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/love-for-childs-mind.html' title='Love For A Child&apos;s Mind'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TIfuXb5NRdI/AAAAAAAAAKw/2z9-EhU5jN0/s72-c/cm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2763131690847344052</id><published>2010-09-04T21:10:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T09:33:15.762-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Look Of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TINsLYqufrI/AAAAAAAAAKY/KnVobBjNqUg/s1600/granny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 198px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TINsLYqufrI/AAAAAAAAAKY/KnVobBjNqUg/s320/granny.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513369311687638706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When someone I love says, "how do I look today",&lt;br /&gt;what in the world could they expect that I'd say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of the Love that God has given me,&lt;br /&gt;when I look at you, His love is all I see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see all you've done wrong has all been forgiven,&lt;br /&gt;and all of His passion in my heart He has driven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see the hope He's had since the day you were born, &lt;br /&gt;I see the Body Of Christ with which Himself, we adorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I see when I look with a heart from above,&lt;br /&gt;I see all of the attributes of God's purest love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There, when I look into your eyes, I can only behold,&lt;br /&gt;all of His deepest compassion, greater than gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see one very unique and beautifully made,&lt;br /&gt;creation of whom for Christ's life He has laid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By:  Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2763131690847344052?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2763131690847344052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/look-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2763131690847344052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2763131690847344052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/look-of-love.html' title='The Look Of Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TINsLYqufrI/AAAAAAAAAKY/KnVobBjNqUg/s72-c/granny.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-187965529587551774</id><published>2010-09-04T05:37:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T05:39:55.815-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Just What I Needed</title><content type='html'>My spirit was down and I was feeling needy,&lt;br /&gt;my search was nothing more than greedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd set out to find someone to cheer me up,&lt;br /&gt;someone with extra joy to pour into my cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked through the mall looking for that certain pep,&lt;br /&gt;a happy go lucky with a little spring in their step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat in a coffee shop hoping to find,&lt;br /&gt;someone I knew whom God had in mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed a soul about my age, over in the corner table,&lt;br /&gt;and thought, I'm looking for people a little more stable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I noticed him out of the corner of my eye,&lt;br /&gt;he pushed his drink aside and he began to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched him gather his composure and walk outside,&lt;br /&gt;he sat down and wept no longer tears could he hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not stand to watch this person in so much grief,&lt;br /&gt;went out and asked to sit with him, maybe offer some relief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat quite a while and listened to his tragic story,&lt;br /&gt;we hugged and said goodbye, all to God's great glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lord had planned it all along,&lt;br /&gt;my feeling needy was completely gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-187965529587551774?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/187965529587551774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-what-i-needed.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/187965529587551774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/187965529587551774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-what-i-needed.html' title='Just What I Needed'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8266355014944042288</id><published>2010-09-02T17:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T21:59:00.435-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Your Crown</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TH7B1hazyhI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/nmK4qAbSszQ/s1600/crown2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 235px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TH7B1hazyhI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/nmK4qAbSszQ/s320/crown2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512056119196109330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was too late at that point in eternity to change it,&lt;br /&gt;my life on earth had afforded one quite inadequate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now... there it was, waiting for me,&lt;br /&gt;my gift, Your crown, to give to thee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding it in my hands to bring to you,&lt;br /&gt;wishing I'd done all You'd willed me to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happened next I could've never fathomed,&lt;br /&gt;my understanding of love was still like a chasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched as You set each crown one into the other,&lt;br /&gt;as they fit into the next the two made one together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many inlaid of pearl, many with jewels to behold,&lt;br /&gt;even a few more like mine made of only gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many more were brought and set before You,&lt;br /&gt;greater and greater the crown grew to adorn You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even in my struggles to do what You had willed,&lt;br /&gt;I see now, Your love was set all along to be fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8266355014944042288?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8266355014944042288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/your-crown.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8266355014944042288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8266355014944042288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/your-crown.html' title='Your Crown'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TH7B1hazyhI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/nmK4qAbSszQ/s72-c/crown2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4152251923404973748</id><published>2010-09-01T06:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T06:52:37.749-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Pain In Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TH4wU06MLVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tEli0gFZs9k/s1600/poc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TH4wU06MLVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tEli0gFZs9k/s320/poc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511896128306294098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For we know that to understand real love,&lt;br /&gt;it must come from Him who's Name is above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in order to understand love more intensely,&lt;br /&gt;God cuts painfully deeper and more immensely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, deeper into our hearts Love cuts,&lt;br /&gt;expressing what He's left pulls at our guts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's painful we see, this thing that brings glee,&lt;br /&gt;so much more we're to know, and painfully so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He gives us more compassion for those we hated,&lt;br /&gt;and in loving them, some respond just as He stated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurts us to love in the way that God wants,&lt;br /&gt;and so deeper He cuts into where the pain taunts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No longer do we struggle the issue of forgiveness,&lt;br /&gt;for in love we no longer account for evil against us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believing the best in everyone, is then natural again,&lt;br /&gt;like when we were children and before all the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we look to the cross where hung the greatest expression,&lt;br /&gt;we find, both violent pain and the most furious passion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can it be, that the pain in love will ever go away,&lt;br /&gt;as long as someone is left whom needs His love today?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4152251923404973748?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4152251923404973748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/pain-in-love.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4152251923404973748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4152251923404973748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/09/pain-in-love.html' title='The Pain In Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TH4wU06MLVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tEli0gFZs9k/s72-c/poc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2651241488613204535</id><published>2010-08-31T07:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T08:44:21.028-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Man Of The Law</title><content type='html'>I could feel-em when they rode into town,&lt;br /&gt;set off-a hateful ole ruckus all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like they'd rode in on the front edge of a storm,&lt;br /&gt;ugly, ornery... I felt they was an evil swarm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want-n ta know, "who's the Law-man", they said,&lt;br /&gt;I show'd-em who a Man Of The Law was instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked out slowly to the middle of town,&lt;br /&gt;planted my stance straight firmly to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon as they seen me, here they come about,&lt;br /&gt;one holstered accusations, the other slung doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first-n came a eyeball-n me, up and down,&lt;br /&gt;look-n for a weakness but there weren't one found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seen-em look-n at my badge think-n all it meant,&lt;br /&gt;weren't my name on the star but who I represent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at my badge and back straight in his eyes,&lt;br /&gt;he was too scared to draw on even one of his lies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then snuck up the other-n look-n what was in my holster,&lt;br /&gt;seen the ware on the leather and knew then my bolster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drew down on-em hard and then yelled "git",&lt;br /&gt;and they both rode out-a here in such a fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2651241488613204535?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2651241488613204535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/man-of-law.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2651241488613204535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2651241488613204535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/man-of-law.html' title='Man Of The Law'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2896640136045063601</id><published>2010-08-30T06:03:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T06:05:05.850-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Stankfoot</title><content type='html'>Stankfoot, come here long time ago,&lt;br /&gt;put his foot all up in da doe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mamma said, "Stankfoot... He got ta go,"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Prayed up a blessin on top his head,&lt;br /&gt;She toed me, "das what da Lord done said."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stankfoot don't come round here no moe.&lt;br /&gt;I axed da peoples, "where Stankfoot go?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man toed me... dis what he said,&lt;br /&gt;"He heard a story, dat Stankfoot dead."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2896640136045063601?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2896640136045063601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/stankfoot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2896640136045063601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2896640136045063601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/stankfoot.html' title='Stankfoot'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7647025229758486515</id><published>2010-08-29T15:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T05:40:09.772-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Mission Accomplished</title><content type='html'>The assignment, like many before was not a breeze,&lt;br /&gt;I'd hoped to get in, make the "hit", get out with ease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HQ ascribed my weapon, target area, but not the "mark",&lt;br /&gt;once in place, I'd be shown whom to embark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suited up, armed and prepared for the mission,&lt;br /&gt;I entered the building ready for any opposition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching the location I proceeded to roam,&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed a few things that I needed at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon my orders I focused, needing only one more,&lt;br /&gt;I moved up to the front lines my eye on these four.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pacing the lines I wanted to get this job done,&lt;br /&gt;at that moment I heard HQs' say, "this is the one".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I studied the mark closely going through the line,&lt;br /&gt;thankful for the mission I'd been given so Divine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reached for her hand and held it in a light clutch,&lt;br /&gt;"God told me to tell you He loves you so much".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THt5yUbaXkI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/HTD6k4GLhXg/s1600/holding-hands-Tanjila.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THt5yUbaXkI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/HTD6k4GLhXg/s320/holding-hands-Tanjila.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511132474402037314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7647025229758486515?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7647025229758486515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/mission-accomplished.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7647025229758486515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7647025229758486515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/mission-accomplished.html' title='Mission Accomplished'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THt5yUbaXkI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/HTD6k4GLhXg/s72-c/holding-hands-Tanjila.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1978122328933086077</id><published>2010-08-28T05:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T05:41:50.471-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>This Side Of Love</title><content type='html'>There is a side of love that must be shown,&lt;br /&gt;the side that leaves with us a silent moan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should not hide this love so deep,&lt;br /&gt;the side I mean that makes us weep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For what is love so sweet and nice,&lt;br /&gt;that we could give without sacrifice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the love that's from the heart,&lt;br /&gt;is meant for joy right from the start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But woven deep within its passion,&lt;br /&gt;a blood was poured into its fashion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This side of love we give is not for loss,&lt;br /&gt;it’s rooted in and from the cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1978122328933086077?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1978122328933086077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-side-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1978122328933086077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1978122328933086077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-side-of-love.html' title='This Side Of Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8548904723144982458</id><published>2010-08-27T13:07:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T15:25:03.398-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>God's Time Will Tell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THgQ2ZA-enI/AAAAAAAAAJo/_VWnImPb-rU/s1600/fade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 216px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THgQ2ZA-enI/AAAAAAAAAJo/_VWnImPb-rU/s320/fade.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510172670701763186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tiny then and already quite independent,&lt;br /&gt;you could certainly tell she was my descendant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So fearless she was, with a scuff on her knee,&lt;br /&gt;climbing with the boys in our tallest tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought, what would happen if she ever fell,&lt;br /&gt;and I said to the Lord, only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school she was the one who couldn't say no to a friend,&lt;br /&gt;and I prayed at times that it wouldn't be to her end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her grades dropped - the school wanted to expel,&lt;br /&gt;I remember thinking, Lord only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She made it through school in spite of my worry,&lt;br /&gt;and married a young man in too much of a hurry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things didn't go well and the marriage fell apart,&lt;br /&gt;so I made the long trip to collect her broken heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It broke my heart to watch the pain when we rebel,&lt;br /&gt;I remember thinking, Lord only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today she seems to have forsaken her soul,&lt;br /&gt;an addiction now has began to take it's toll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I doesn't look good from all that I can tell,&lt;br /&gt;but I've seen His love at work - God's time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8548904723144982458?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8548904723144982458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/gods-time-will-tell.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8548904723144982458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8548904723144982458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/gods-time-will-tell.html' title='God&apos;s Time Will Tell'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THgQ2ZA-enI/AAAAAAAAAJo/_VWnImPb-rU/s72-c/fade.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-2482796186774069781</id><published>2010-08-27T07:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T05:27:44.409-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Speak</title><content type='html'>Hello there friend, afraid to profess,&lt;br /&gt;you're saying something, none the less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you, not knowing what to say,&lt;br /&gt;you're saying something every day.&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;But you there telling little lies,&lt;br /&gt;you seem to've lost your disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-2482796186774069781?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/2482796186774069781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/speak.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2482796186774069781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/2482796186774069781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/speak.html' title='Speak'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-1184524317617320959</id><published>2010-08-24T06:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T08:28:35.886-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Tear Content</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THMfbw5CA5I/AAAAAAAAAI4/_vwugSc-Ijs/s1600/t.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 211px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THMfbw5CA5I/AAAAAAAAAI4/_vwugSc-Ijs/s320/t.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508781331045286802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was contained inside a tear I'd cried,&lt;br /&gt;could it hold the feelings I'd felt inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along the trail left behind each tear,&lt;br /&gt;would more than water and salt appear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked for evidence of the pain I'd felt,&lt;br /&gt;a stain, a fragment of that for which I'd knelt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was nothing more than this mine eye had sent,&lt;br /&gt;for the suffering behind all the tears I'd spent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could it be that what I was looking for,&lt;br /&gt;was in the measure of flow and nothing more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I thought I heard My Father softly say,&lt;br /&gt;this was why He counted tears this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tears contain nothing of that for which we've cried,&lt;br /&gt;but counted, they measure our heart inside".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-1184524317617320959?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/1184524317617320959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/tear-content.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1184524317617320959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/1184524317617320959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/tear-content.html' title='Tear Content'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THMfbw5CA5I/AAAAAAAAAI4/_vwugSc-Ijs/s72-c/t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-8141882621792430900</id><published>2010-08-22T07:05:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T07:21:36.470-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Wind and Willow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THEG5OegsQI/AAAAAAAAAIg/gyMjYk1uqn4/s1600/Stetattle_Creek_084_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THEG5OegsQI/AAAAAAAAAIg/gyMjYk1uqn4/s320/Stetattle_Creek_084_1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508191399459205378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roots that reach deep into God's soil,&lt;br /&gt;near streaming waters of life that roil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long beautiful branches yielding in obedience,&lt;br /&gt;to the warm flowing breeze of Love's expedience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soft and sweeping they dance together,&lt;br /&gt;winds of love flowing through leaves as feather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dance of the warm wind soft as a pillow,&lt;br /&gt;blowing through the yielding arms of a Willow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or is it the dance between God's husband and wife,&lt;br /&gt;obedient and loving of what He asks from their life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-8141882621792430900?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/8141882621792430900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/wind-and-willow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8141882621792430900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/8141882621792430900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/wind-and-willow.html' title='Wind and Willow'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/THEG5OegsQI/AAAAAAAAAIg/gyMjYk1uqn4/s72-c/Stetattle_Creek_084_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-3862530403911766493</id><published>2010-08-20T07:12:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T08:45:36.210-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Beacon Of Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TG54EdH_Q7I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9O4mjn9Kd6U/s1600/hg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TG54EdH_Q7I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9O4mjn9Kd6U/s200/hg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507471412253639602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only until we allow God's love to fill our heart,&lt;br /&gt;are we ready for real love's blessings to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the infilling of His love with such a load,&lt;br /&gt;the feeling in joy that our hearts will explode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we realize His love could not be restrained,&lt;br /&gt;as it radiated back to Himself with all it contained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a beacon His love shines outward thus,&lt;br /&gt;greater in strength as we remove more of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever you thought before that love might be,&lt;br /&gt;is shattered by God's love that now we see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing nothing of love until it came from above,&lt;br /&gt;with God you've become now a beacon of His love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-3862530403911766493?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/3862530403911766493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/beacon-of-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3862530403911766493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3862530403911766493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/beacon-of-love.html' title='Beacon Of Love'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/TG54EdH_Q7I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/9O4mjn9Kd6U/s72-c/hg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-4080169380810306479</id><published>2010-08-19T06:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T07:19:30.194-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Plain Truth</title><content type='html'>Ya cain't see-em but ya know they're there,&lt;br /&gt;it's a kinda feel-n that'll raise ya neck hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call-em selves princes...Daddy calls-em thieves,&lt;br /&gt;gonna pull-em up when He brings in the sheaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grammy says them's what toughed her bad knee,&lt;br /&gt;she said-ta holler JESUS n watch-em flee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-4080169380810306479?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/4080169380810306479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/plain-truth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4080169380810306479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/4080169380810306479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/plain-truth.html' title='Plain Truth'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-7121067254955654145</id><published>2010-08-19T06:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T06:49:51.834-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Trumpet Call</title><content type='html'>Where'll I be when the trumpet makes it's sound,&lt;br /&gt;and what'll I be doing when He gathers us around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will I be doing what He'd told me to do,&lt;br /&gt;and will I be right where He told me to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uncertain when it'll happen these questions I pray,&lt;br /&gt;so whatever I'm doing I'll know what He'll say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-7121067254955654145?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/7121067254955654145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/trumpet-call.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7121067254955654145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/7121067254955654145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/trumpet-call.html' title='Trumpet Call'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7093010940068658065.post-3748270053617854184</id><published>2010-08-18T22:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T07:52:50.261-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>The Fall Of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>Great halls of higher education,&lt;br /&gt;lay across a peoples nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Founded upon a Holy Creator,&lt;br /&gt;wisdom revealed by One Translator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But with His wisdom so many fell to pride,&lt;br /&gt;and in the name of wisdom debaters hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They've taken God out of the schools,&lt;br /&gt;and left a nation to educated fools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: Preston Pittman &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7093010940068658065-3748270053617854184?l=prestonpittman.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/feeds/3748270053617854184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/fall-of-wisdom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3748270053617854184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7093010940068658065/posts/default/3748270053617854184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prestonpittman.blogspot.com/2010/08/fall-of-wisdom.html' title='The Fall Of Wisdom'/><author><name>Preston Pittman</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03807538012917472237</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uKPtacVcxZQ/Sq6Z3NMdIoI/AAAAAAAAAAY/1kVQEYMC8XE/S220/pp.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
