There is a story told about Jesus interviewing people at the gate to Heaven. He comes across a man who might be Joseph, who is elderly, failing eyesight and hearing and understanding. Jesus asks him if there is anything Joseph left behind. Joseph replied there was a beautiful boy who had wisdom beyond his years, and yet was childlike. He had nails in his hands and feet. Jesus looked significantly at Joseph, and Joseph looked back, and then asked "Pinocchio?"
It is said that all writing is rewriting. And so the story of Pinocchio has tensions mirroring the Christ story. Pinocchio goes to hell, and is reborn as a good boy. Literary analysts connect this progression with Homer's Odyssey. Pinocchio wants to be a real boy. Christ was God made a real person. And so the joke laughingly suggests the true story of Christ is the fantasy of Pinocchio, but highlights the truth that all writing is rewriting.
There is no escaping God. God has forgiven all of us. Not that God approves of sin, but that God has made a way by which we can be with Him even though we are sinful. We are often, for a time, captured by our memory. We have made choices which don't include God. And every bad choice we make makes it harder to make a good one. The Devil points to our past and tells us that there is no way God can accept us. But we know the Devil's future. And we don't have to share it. Even though we have a past.
addendum, the detail in this missive is personal. I'm not betraying any trust, but many might feel I'm being fast and loose. I don't write about my family because family is separate from my mission, for many bad reasons. I have written a little of my mother and father, but nothing of my living siblings and very little about my sister Pamela, who died on Feb 14th 1978, when I was 11 years old. Feb 14th 1978 was when I first dreamt of meeting God. I am in poor health and could reasonably expect to die in the next few years. The explosive nature of some of what I have written in the past is likely to allow sibling rivals to mischaracterise what I have written on mission. I have done no wrong, no outrage of public decency. I'm very conscious that my step mother is failing in her duty to protect my father's legacy. I cannot protect my self and him at the same time. She is his advocate. He is a great man whose life work in education greatly enriched humanity. I was estranged from him at birth, when he named me 'o'DDBall and at the end of his life, with my last words to him being a sarcastic "Stay in touch, don't be a stranger." I won't explain why. It has nothing to do with my mission.
David Daniel Ball
26th July 2021
AUAWN0726321
storiesthatheal.blogspot.com/2016/07/forgotten-forgiveness.html
https://rumble.com/vkbyiz-faith-exploration-on-forgotten-forgiveness.html
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring
Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun
Now the jingle hop has begun
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air
What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh
Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet
That's the jingle bell rock
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock
Jingle bell chime in jingle bell time
Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square
In the frosty air
What a bright time, it's the right time
To rock the night away
Jingle bell time is a swell time
To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh
Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jinglin' feet
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle bell
That's the jingle...
David Daniel Ball calls himself the Conservative Voice.
I'm a teacher with three decades experience teaching math to high school kids.I also work with first graders and kids in between first grade and high school. I know the legends of why Hypatia's dad is remembered through his contribution to Math theory. And I know the legend of why followers of Godel had thought he had disproved God's existence.
I'm not a preacher, but I am a Christian who has written over 28 books all of which include some reference to my faith. Twelve blog books on world history and current affairs, detailing world events , births and marriages on each day of the year, organised by month. Twelve books on the background to and history of Bible Quotes. One Bible quote per day for a year. An intro to a science fiction series I'm planning, post apocalyptic cyber punk. An autobiography with short story collections.
I'm known in Australia for my failure as a whistleblower over the negligence death of a school boy. ...
The Good Shepherd Blues
(John’s Song – Ephesus, sometime around AD 95)
(Slow 12-bar blues in A minor – play it like an old man who’s seen too much but still got fire in his eyes)
Verse 1
I am the disciple that Jesus loved, they say
Leaned on His ...
Beethoven’s Last Blues (John’s Gospel in D-minor)
🎹 Turn the lights down low.
Grab your oldest headphones, your darkest room, and the heaviest heart you’ve got.
Play “Beethoven’s Last Blues” once—at the volume you’re scared to use.
Let it crawl inside the silence you carry.
When the final low D fades into nothing, don’t move.
Stay there in the dark until you feel something rise up that has no sound.
That’s the Word becoming flesh in you.
That’s joy breaking through deafness.
Now pass it on.
Send it to the one who’s lost their music.
Tell them: the conversation hasn’t ended.
The Ninth is still coming.
And it’s coming for them.
Play it loud enough for the deaf to hear.
Because joy was made to outrun silence.
#BeethovensLastBlues #TheWordBecameFlesh
Woke up this mornin’, world gone black as coal,
Ears full of silence, Lord, it done swallowed my soul.
Fingers still dancin’ on keys that don’t speak no more,
Hammer and string keep lyin’, like a lover walkin’...
Stand with the Blue: Honor Nicola Cotton, Learn from Redfern
Imagine a young officer, full of promise, gunned down in broad daylight—her only "crime" was stepping up to protect her community. That's the heartbreaking reality of Nicola Cotton, the 24-year-old New Orleans policewoman murdered in 2008 while trying to arrest a suspect. Eight weeks pregnant, she was shot 15 times with her own service weapon by a man with a history of severe mental illness who had been prematurely released from care. Her death wasn't just a loss for Louisiana; it exposed raw cracks in our systems—mental health failures, under-resourced patrols, and the relentless dangers officers face in high-risk neighborhoods.
Now fast-forward to Sydney's Redfern riots of 2004, half a world away. A 17-year-old Indigenous teen, TJ Hickey, dies in a tragic bike accident during what police called a routine patrol—but his community saw it as yet another flashpoint in a cycle of distrust, poverty, and ...