Happy Labor Day (that’s Labour Day in Canada) for those who are enjoying a day of rest today.

Today is the launch event for my book Seasons of Sorrow. If you’re looking for information about that, please visit this page. Remember that the book is now available for pre-order from Amazon and actually shipping from Westminster Books.
Today’s Kindle deals include a nice little list from Crossway.
(Yesterday on the blog: The Signal Gun of the Gospel)
Did the Pandemic Open Doors? Effects of COVID on Missions
This article at DG asks and answers an interesting question: “How is God using all the effects of COVID-19 to accomplish his purposes in the world?”
Ashamed Sinner, Unashamed Savior
“When you’re in the midst of guilt and shame—which we should rightly feel in the midst of sin—we have to take all that he has done and his promises to God and see that he’s actually not ashamed of us. It’s not that he excuses sin, but he welcomes sinners.”
Now What? How Parents Can Pray for Their College-Aged Kids
“How can we encourage, support, and especially pray for our kids when they’re away at college?” Cara has some experience at this and offers an answer.
Good News for the Overwhelmed
Darryl Dash: “I felt overwhelmed again this week. I always feel overwhelmed at the beginning of the Fall. I love the summer pace. As a new ministry year begins, I feel intimidated at what lies ahead: fuller schedules, new initiatives, and more to do than I can possibly accomplish.”
Be Still…
Why should we learn to be still and how can we actually do it? That’s what this one is about.
More on Projectors in Worship
I wish this article did a bit more to consider the benefits of using projectors (vs hymnals) in worship. But it is interesting to consider these drawbacks and, most of all, to ask whether we really think carefully about the benefits and drawbacks before we bring changes to our churches and our worship.
Flashback: Thank God For Your Job (Doesn’t Matter What Your Job Is!)
As you enjoy rest from your labors, why don’t you take a bit of time to thank God for your labors. No matter what they are, they are evidence of his kindness and mercy toward you.

If we really believe that the God who created the universe cares for us and is working in our lives, then that removes the fear that makes us hoard our money and turn away everyone who might need the generosity that God asks of us. —Bryan Chapell

There may be no language as quirky and irregular as English, nor any language whose words can have such varied meanings and whose letters can be pronounced in such a multitude of ways. That’s the premise behind this old poem I stumbled upon in an old anthology. It it titled, rather unimaginatively, “The English Language.” It’s a good and fun one to read aloud.

A pretty deer is dear to me,A hare with downy hair:I love a hart with all my heart,But barely bear a bear.‘Tis plain that no one takes a planeTo have a pair of pears;A rake, though, often takes a rakeTo tare away the tares.All rays raise thyme, time razes all;And through the whole, hole wears.A writ, in writing “right,” may writeIt “wright,” and still be wrong—For  “write” and “rite” are neither “right,”And don’t to wright belong.Beer often brings a bier to man,Coughing a coffin brings.And too much ale will make us ail,As well as other things.The person lies who says he liesWhen he is but reclining;And, when consumptive folks decline,They all decline declining.A quail don’t quail before a storm—A bough will bow before it;We cannot rein the rain at all—No earthly powers reign o’er it.The dyer dyes awhile, then dies;To dye he’s always trying,Until upon his dying-bedHe thinks no more of dyeing.A son of Mars mars many a sun;All deys must have their days.And every knight should pray each nightTo Him who weighs his ways.‘Tis meet that man should mete out meatTo feed misfortune’s son;The fair should fare on love alone,Else one cannot be won.A lass, alas! is something false;Of faults a maid is made;Her waist is but a barren waste—Though stayed, she is not staid.The springs spring forth in Spring, and shootsShoot forward one and all;Though Summer kills the flowers, it leavesThe leaves to fall in Fall.I would a story here commence,But you might find it stale;So let’s suppose that we have reachedThe tail end of our tale.

I was once told the story of a child who had been invited to spend a sunny summer day playing with his friends. He lived in a rural area and it took him a good bit of time to make the trek. But the child made his way toward his friends as they made their way toward him and eventually they came upon one another halfway. Soon they were climbing trees and jumping creeks and skipping rocks and generally having the time of their lives.

Around dusk, the boy realized he should begin his return journey. But just as he was about to say his farewells, one of the other lads began to tell a story. The child, once drawn in, couldn’t force himself away. He sat in rapt attention as the story progressed, as the action waxed and waned, as the hero faced peril and emerged victorious.
By the time the story was complete, the sun had dipped behind the distant horizon. Now the boy gazed into the gathering darkness and realized he was afraid to set out by himself. He asked his friends to come with him, but they all needed to return in the opposite direction. As the boy dawdled and tried to work up his courage, the sun’s last rays disappeared from the sky. He fretted about his family, wondering if they were concerned about what had become of him.
The night grew darker still as clouds rolled in and began to blanket the moon and the stars. At last he decided he must stop procrastinating and set out. But just as he stood to his feet, a blinding flash of lightning shot from the sky and it was soon followed by a mighty crack of thunder. His courage failed him altogether.
Yet just as he was about to sink into utter despair, his eye spotted a flicker of light bobbing in the distance. Curious, he watched as it grew closer, as it grew brighter. And, then, to his delight, he saw that it was his older brother come to fetch him, come to bring him home. And now he quickly said farewell to his friends and boldly stepped into the darkness. He confidently made his way toward his brother who then led him safely home—home where his family threw their arms around him, home where a meal had been laid out for him, home where peace and rest awaited him.
And after the storyteller had said all of this, he paused for a moment. He paused to gather his thoughts and consider his words. And then he spoke once more.
So may it be for you when the night of death comes. So may it be for you when your friends cannot accompany you. So may it be for you when you do not dare to go alone.
On that day, your friend who is closer than a brother, your Savior who is your elder brother, will come to meet you at just the right time. In his hand will be the lantern of all the precious promises he has made, and this will be the lamp to your feet and the light to your path. He will lead you through the dark night and into the brightest day. He will accompany you to the place where your family awaits you and longs to see you, the place where a great supper has been laid out for you, the place where God himself is ready to welcome you home. Never, no never, do you need to fear that you will have to go that way alone.

Inspired by De Witt Talmage