Ingrids Auswahl - Imgrids Poetry (98)

Why burden my heart Why burden my heart with forever Forever is too far away My soul cannot phantom forever  I dare only ask for a moment A moment of peace in each day   God see’s all his children’s forever’s Each day as it passes away He teaches our hearts to be patient Have faith, show obedience and pray.                                                 My Superman My Superman has fallen into pieces My noble prince has fallen of his throne. Sweet dreams now rest beneath the surface Courage shaken right down to the bone But it’s ok, my head has always known it No pot of gold is at the rainbows end It’s just another tale without an ending It’s just another broken heart to mend. A road that’s leading absolutely nowhere Another fantasy without a rhyme Another river flowing, ever flowing Into the endless ocean man calls time.

"Die Wahrheit wird euch frei machen" by Gerd Skibbe

In zahllosen Publikationen wird betont: 

„Mormonen sind keine Christen weil sie das Bekenntnis von Nicäa ablehnen, das seit 325 anerkannte Kirchenlehre ist.“

Das heißt: Wer wie der Älteste Arius (260-337) glaubt, Jesus sei ein anderer als sein Vater, ihm untergeordnet, der kann kein Christ sein, der ist verdammt.

Geistliche und Lehrer aller Großkirchen  bläuen ihren Hörern ein, die Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Letzten Tage lehre fälschlich eine Mehrheit von Götter.

Aus dem neutralen Blickwinkel der „vergleichenden Religionswissenschaften“ stellt sich das Problem allerdings anders dar.

Korrekt ist: Im besagten Bekenntnis bzw. im Athanasianum heißt es: 

„ (es) sind nicht drei Götter, sondern ein Gott...wie uns die christliche Wahrheit  zwingt, jede Person einzeln für sich als Gott und als Herrn zu   bekennen, so verbietet uns der katholische Glaube, von drei Göttern oder Herren zu sprechen.“

Dies bedeutet: Jesus sei der gleichen Substanz wie der Vater.

Mehr und mehr forschende Experten lehnen aus religionshistorischen Gründen ab solchen Folgerungen und Formulierungen zuzustimmen. Sie unterstützen damit ungewollt die Gotteslehre der Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Letzten Tage. 

So schreibt Prof. Christoph Markschies, Humboldt-Universität Berlin. 2000 in „Alta Trinità Beata“

„...der Sohn hat (...) nicht dieselbe Substanz wie der Vater, im Gegenteil er ist ihm fremd“

Die Begründung für diese grundsätzliche Infragestellung des Nicänums, ist breit.

Wichtig sind die Sätze Prof. Markschies:

 „Durch den Sohn schafft der Vater (…) die Welt. Der Sohn ist Gott (vor allem dieses Detail fehlt gern in polemischen Darstellungen des Arianismus...)“

Auf diesen Aspekt muss mehr Gewicht gelegt werden. 

Dieselbe Polemik richtet sich gegen das sogenannte "Mormonentum"

Es geht, an theologischen Fakultäten immer noch die Lüge um:

„Arius - der entschiedene Ablehner des Nicänums - leugnete (auf dem Konzil zu Nicäa, 325) die Gottheit Christi.

Bedenkenswert:

Wegen dieser Behauptung wurden Millionen Menschen des 4. Jahrhunderts von den Nicänern verfolgt. Kriege wurden deshalb geführt. Menschen wurden verbrannt und enthauptet.

Fazit: die Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Tage lehrt wie Arius, der außerdem die Toleranz für ein unabdingbares Element des Christentums hielt.

Deshalb wird sie bis heute verleumdet.

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (97)

    

      

Rainy afternoon        1975

Lazy, rainy afternoon,

Evening you can’t come to soon.

Not a breeze in the trees

Every thing so dead and still,

To stay awake takes all my will.

For everything is sleeping.

Amber tree red and gold

Even you don’t look so bold.

Not one bird can be heard,

Vails of fog are dancing

No smiles and no romancing,

The children too are sleeping.

Shades of grey spread evenly

Across a bleak and lonely sky,

Not a single creature will

Show its well-known feature.

This day seems never ending

Let’s put away this mending

And do a little sleeping.

Little things  ( a song for children)

Little things are beautiful, so small we hardly see,

The tiny flowers, the busy ants, the baby bumble-bee.

Little things are beautiful, please help my Eyes to see,

The tiny shells in yellow sand, down by the mighty sea.

Little things are beautiful, it’s true, just look at me.

I care for things my Father made, and he takes care of me.

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (96)

 

  

             Stumbling blocks and Stepping stones   

           

How do we discern, how can we know?

As we journey through-out life,

Can stumbling blocks become stepping

Stones as we conquer daily strife?

Find the names of your own stumbling blocks

Discover whatever they may be.

Fears, random phobias, jealousy

Blocks set out before you and me?

What then are stepping stones?

Stepping stones are stumbling blocks

That we by our own persistence,

Via tears, prayers, pleadings

Have brought down to a level

Where we can and may use them

As Stepping stones, overcoming,

Learning to jump high enough

To clear that stumbling block

Without falling flat on our face.

Some People, Greed, Traditions

Envy, Pride, Bad language, All ill

Trades are stumbling blocks,

Which we must overcome,

We have turned to Stepping stones,

 Whilst traveling back home.

Stranger         Ron our Border

I have walked with a stranger, we talked for a while.

And I said to him stranger why so faint is your smile?

Has the world and her trials made your heart sad?

Have family and friends all treated you bad?

Are you looking for someone, someone who would care?

Are you looking for something but don’t know where?

I have talked with this stranger, as he came round my way

Have bade him “Hallo” come inside Friend to stay,

Rest a while by the fireside, feel the warms, feel its glow,

Let me share the wisdom of a good friend I know,

He can help you. Can teach you, gladly show you the way.

Precious the hours your allotted to stay.

Many days have past, he, a stranger no more,

Precious truth he had found, noble thoughts implored.

With hope in his eyes, on his face a new smile.

I am grateful dear stranger you stayed for a while.

Now the stranger a friend, my brother has gone.

I thank God for a soul that has found his way home.

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (95)

                                              My heart

What is this thing called love?

My heart with thee I pleat.

Two souls with but one thought,

Two hearts with but one beat.

Oh, say were does love come from?

She comes, and she is here.

Then tell why does she vanish?

Don’t cry, it wasn’t her.

What do you know of pure love?

When she’s relenting her own will.

And when is love the deepest?

When she is very still.

How then is love a treasure?

When glad she freely gives.

Not sold for Gold or measure,

True love for ever lives.

Once in a while

Once in a while we all need a friend

Once in a while the touch of a hand.

Once in a while a loving smile

Everyone needs these things once in a while

Once in a while a wish or two

Once in a while that wish to come true

Once in a while we need someone to share

Everyone needs someone’s loving Care.

Once in a while a warm embrace

Once in a while a familiar face

Once in a while a shoulder to cry on

Everyone needs someone’s strength to relay on

Once in a while the wind in your hair

Once in a while a day without care

Once in a while on the top of a hill

Everyone sometimes needs to be very still

Once in a while hear the voice that’s within

Once in a while we all need to begin

To know the best gift is a friend’s warm smile

Everyone needs a friend once in a while

Ingrids Auswahl - Ingrids Poetry (94)

My Friend

When I’m unhappy, feeling blue

This world comes tumbling down

You’re the one I’m counting on

Because, you’re always around.

You understand me, overlook

Things I don’t mean to say,

There when ever things go wrong

We’re traveling the same way,

We face the world together

See each other though

Regardless of the weather

Just little me and you

I’m so happy that you are my friend.

All the way right to the bitter end

Some folks say life is a lonely ride

Not for us, we travel side by side.

Doesn’t matter what gets in our way

We see each other through from day to day

All the way right to the bitter end

 Just you and me my dearest friend.

Ingrifs Auswahl - Ingrifs Poetry (93)

Sweet sanctuary

written by daughter Leah Cunha

I always seem to end up here in this sweet sanctuary,

I always seem to end up here, alone, with only me.

In this small place, so peaceful, a world that’s truly mine,

This place, this space so silent, where time’s hard to define.

Where I can think and ponder, or say a little prayer

Where I can cry in anguish, wishing you were there.

Where I can laugh at memories, or have my soul’s complaint,

Where I can lie in solitude, when I am feeling faint.

Where harmony is found, and lines are soft

Upon my wondering mind,

Where dreams take place, and hopes are made

When you I cannot find

Where seasons I see while years pass by

And new sweet songs appear

Whenever tragedies fall

Or joys are found, Yes!! I always end up here.

And where’s this place? You ask me now

Where all my secrets bloom, I tell you softly—

This small place is the sanctuary of my room.