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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:geo="http://www.w3.org/2003/01/geo/wgs84_pos#" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ANRXw7eSp7ImA9WhRbEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144</id><updated>2012-01-31T08:23:14.201-06:00</updated><category term="Capernaum" /><category term="Joshua" /><category term="Israel's feasts" /><category term="Jerusalem" /><category term="Jacob" /><category term="grace" /><category term="provision" /><category term="purpose" /><category term="heaven" /><category term="light" /><category term="death" 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/><category term="inspiration" /><category term="devotions" /><category term="glory of God" /><category term="hope" /><category term="blessings" /><category term="hypocrisy" /><category term="holiness" /><category term="kingdom of God" /><category term="Romans 6" /><category term="Pilgrims" /><category term="sexuality" /><category term="DVD" /><category term="signs" /><category term="Adam" /><category term="Elah Valley" /><category term="Ash Wednesday" /><category term="prayer" /><category term="absolute truth" /><category term="Tabernacle" /><category term="cross" /><category term="children" /><category term="Jabbok River" /><category term="David" /><category term="liberalism" /><category term="Holy Land" /><category term="parables" /><category term="Garden of Eden" /><category term="Insight for Living" /><category term="politics" /><category term="assurance of salvation" /><category term="struggle" /><category term="faithfulness" /><category term="parenting" /><category term="music" /><category term="goals" /><category term="dedication" /><category term="Feast of Trumpets" /><category term="Swindoll" /><category term="rooster" /><category term="passover" /><category term="Sabbath" /><category term="Shechem" /><category term="Gilead" /><category term="Israel museums" /><category term="Ephesus" /><category term="obedience" /><category term="dreams" /><category term="wisdom" /><category term="inerrancy" /><category term="fishing" /><category term="fame" /><category term="Song of Songs" /><category term="Paul" /><category term="Gideon" /><category term="loneliness" /><category term="fear" /><category term="Western Wall" /><category term="morality" /><category term="money" /><title>Wayne Stiles Blog</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>196</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/waynestiles" /><feedburner:info uri="waynestiles" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><thespringbox:skin xmlns:thespringbox="http://www.thespringbox.com/dtds/thespringbox-1.0.dtd">http://feeds.feedburner.com/waynestiles?format=skin</thespringbox:skin><geo:lat>33.274761</geo:lat><geo:long>-96.994571</geo:long><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/" /><logo>http://www.waynestiles.com/blogbanneremail.jpg</logo><feedburner:emailServiceId>waynestiles</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEHSXsycCp7ImA9WhRbEEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-5921730488636369915</id><published>2012-01-31T06:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T06:57:18.598-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-31T06:57:18.598-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="temptation" /><title>Blame-Shifting our Blunders</title><content type="html">I love the scene in the movie Jaws where two snorkeling boys with a cardboard fin scared the bejeebers out of a bunch of bathers.



“It’s not my fault!” one boy confessed to the police. Then he pointed to his friend, “He made me do it!” 



Finger pointing is hard-wired into our hearts. In fact, it started early in human history. Like, really early. 



In the Garden of Eden, God confronted the first man and woman after they sinned, and their reaction set the course for an entire race of blame-shifters.



The man said, “The woman whom You...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/xv4u1LBeAdc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/5921730488636369915/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=5921730488636369915&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/5921730488636369915?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/5921730488636369915?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/xv4u1LBeAdc/blame-shifting-our-blunders.html" title="Blame-Shifting our Blunders" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-euH3HCf9G0Q/TyfjpiIzRSI/AAAAAAAAA8M/awC3R-g-P5Q/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2012-01-31%2Bat%2B6.46.25%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2012/01/blame-shifting-our-blunders.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkAHQ307fip7ImA9WhRUFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-3176198302861721132</id><published>2012-01-24T06:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T06:38:52.306-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T06:38:52.306-06:00</app:edited><title>Truths as Lasting as their Settings</title><content type="html">At the base of Mount Gilboa in Israel, a spring still flows today as it has for millennia. Green grass, a swimming pool, and beautiful picnic spots surround the spring that takes its name from the valley that spreads before it.



Ein Harod, or sometimes called, “Gideon’s Spring,” represents the place where Gideon selected his three hundred men to fight the armies of Midian. (I always remember Gideon fought Midian because their names rhyme.)



Not surprisingly, the Lord gave Israel a great victory—and strengthened Gideon’s faith. 



Years...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/edYy0ZRM7ho" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/3176198302861721132/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=3176198302861721132&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/3176198302861721132?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/3176198302861721132?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/edYy0ZRM7ho/truths-as-lasting-as-their-settings.html" title="Truths as Lasting as their Settings" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qfGLrprCp1M/Tx6kscNdTOI/AAAAAAAAA7o/9Tx_B-yPbVU/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2012-01-24%2Bat%2B6.30.38%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2012/01/truths-as-lasting-as-their-settings.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEHRHg_cSp7ImA9WhRVGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-2434663058650628729</id><published>2012-01-18T06:43:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T06:43:55.649-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T06:43:55.649-06:00</app:edited><title>Waiting in a Weary Land</title><content type="html">One of my favorite places to visit in Israel is the Judean Wilderness.



Because this wasteland sits almost completely unchanged from biblical days, I found it easy—even eerie—to gaze across the landscape and ponder that men such as Joshua, David, Jeremiah, John the Baptist, and Jesus saw these hills almost exactly as I was seeing them.



During one of the most desperate times of David’s life, the one who was the anointed future king of Israel found himself running as a renegade in the very land over which he would one day rule.



Pursued...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/rvhCSzdD4bs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/2434663058650628729/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=2434663058650628729&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2434663058650628729?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2434663058650628729?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/rvhCSzdD4bs/waiting-in-weary-land.html" title="Waiting in a Weary Land" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QYmSRnIVG0Y/Txa88-32YvI/AAAAAAAAA7M/lKtIj95aH6k/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2012-01-18%2Bat%2B6.36.37%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2012/01/waiting-in-weary-land.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04DQHYzeip7ImA9WhRVEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-4216529644788671205</id><published>2012-01-10T07:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T07:26:11.882-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-10T07:26:11.882-06:00</app:edited><title>Most of Life is Gaps</title><content type="html">The Bible doesn’t tell us everything. Not even close. 



Oh, to be sure, it tells us all we need to know. But it leaves out most of the details that scratch our curious itches. What did Jesus look like? Was Nehemiah bowlegged? Did Martha have a sidesplitting laugh? Was David more handsome than Brad Pitt? 



We’ll never know. 



That’s because when we read the Scriptures, we see selected events. Even in the cases of individuals whose births and deaths are recorded—like Samuel or Samson or even Jesus—we read only of certain incidents. The...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/_6ZpMyzWMQ0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/4216529644788671205/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=4216529644788671205&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/4216529644788671205?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/4216529644788671205?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/_6ZpMyzWMQ0/most-of-life-is-gaps.html" title="Most of Life is Gaps" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xUPEEqXfka0/Tww5l_TQPUI/AAAAAAAAA60/HKvoiFzA-Yg/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2012-01-10%2Bat%2B7.13.16%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2012/01/most-of-life-is-gaps.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUYGQX89cCp7ImA9WhRWFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-8937947727767618830</id><published>2012-01-03T06:18:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T06:18:40.168-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T06:18:40.168-06:00</app:edited><title>Finding God's Will This Year</title><content type="html">There is only one way you’ll know God's will for you this year.



Read your Bible.



But more important than knowing God’s will is choosing to walk in it. A tough assignment. 



From the first verse of Scripture, God revealed how the Earth set the stage for the divine drama of history to take place (see Gen. 1:1). From its formless, void beginning, the Lord fashioned the Earth with intent in its details. From this ground, God made physical man a spiritual being in His image (see Genesis 1–2).

  

The Lord planted two trees in the Garden of...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/OO4xrDbfwY0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/8937947727767618830/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=8937947727767618830&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/8937947727767618830?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/8937947727767618830?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/OO4xrDbfwY0/finding-gods-will-this-year.html" title="Finding God's Will This Year" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SjfpLZFBiF0/SyEG-k4yFnI/AAAAAAAAAe4/ND2RfWiVaQ8/s72-c/Picture+5.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2012/01/finding-gods-will-this-year.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EAQXs_fyp7ImA9WhRXE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-6924841627907909547</id><published>2011-12-20T05:14:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T05:14:00.547-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-20T05:14:00.547-06:00</app:edited><title>Dealing with Holiday Loneliness</title><content type="html">It’s true. For many people, the holidays draw up painful memories.



Sore spots from childhood or the loss of loved ones hit them hard during this sentimental season. While many people celebrate the joys of Christmastime, others suffer its loneliness.



During one of the most desperate times of David’s life, the anointed future king of Israel found himself running from two separate enemies—hardly a time to celebrate.



With the Philistines to the west and King Saul to the east, a distressed David sought refuge in the cave of Adullam (1...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/BOHx-QXvFgI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/6924841627907909547/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=6924841627907909547&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/6924841627907909547?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/6924841627907909547?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/BOHx-QXvFgI/dealing-with-holiday-loneliness.html" title="Dealing with Holiday Loneliness" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gFtV7OtDkQc/Tus6VHkmJZI/AAAAAAAAA6k/KWW9jlfjzKc/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-12-16%2Bat%2B6.31.37%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/12/dealing-with-holiday-loneliness.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEINSXc7fCp7ImA9WhRQGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-2336727379897130239</id><published>2011-12-13T16:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T16:49:58.904-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-13T16:49:58.904-06:00</app:edited><title>Red Light, Green Light</title><content type="html">A few Decembers ago, my jaw dropped as I calculated how much I had spent on tolls that year. This painful revelation forced me to reexamine my commute. I decided to take the access road to work each morning instead of the highway.



But I discovered I pay either way. I pay in time or in money. In angst or in cash. Unfortunately, I seem to have more of time.



I pay my time at stoplights. 



After two years of navigating stoplights and memorizing their patterns, I have concluded that someone, somewhere, is laughing at me behind some camera....&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/3O4svnTG308" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/2336727379897130239/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=2336727379897130239&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2336727379897130239?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2336727379897130239?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/3O4svnTG308/red-light-green-light.html" title="Red Light, Green Light" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Un3w_ip54cs/TufTaTd2kaI/AAAAAAAAA6A/RlwJ9lDKXTc/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-12-13%2Bat%2B4.35.43%2BPM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/12/red-light-green-light.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UBQHY9fSp7ImA9WhRQEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-7468337431185791089</id><published>2011-12-06T08:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T08:20:51.865-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-06T08:20:51.865-06:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="repentance" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pain" /><title>A Smarting Pain . . . and Change</title><content type="html">Not long ago, my body gave me a little gift. I awoke suddenly one night with a smarting pain in my lower back. No matter how I fidgeted and adjusted, the hurt only intensified. 



The best way I can describe the discomfort compares to having a doctor insert a three-inch hypodermic needle just to the left of the spine, exactly where the kidney sits. Occasionally, just for fun, the doc then twists the needle in a slow, clockwise motion. The pain literally nauseated me.



Never before had I experienced such an inescapable ache. The most...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/IHOu3dI_x4M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/7468337431185791089/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=7468337431185791089&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/7468337431185791089?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/7468337431185791089?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/IHOu3dI_x4M/smarting-pain-and-change.html" title="A Smarting Pain . . . and Change" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aA8iKMbeEAg/Tt4i-nVUkYI/AAAAAAAAA5o/U6B_zOIKQRM/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-12-06%2Bat%2B8.11.25%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/12/smarting-pain-and-change.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcFSXgzcCp7ImA9WhRRFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-2590807063591778735</id><published>2011-11-30T07:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T07:00:18.688-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-30T07:00:18.688-06:00</app:edited><title>Why Problems Linger</title><content type="html">Problems never just go away or take care of themselves, especially when God allows them in order to shape our character.



The Lord will patiently wait and permit the circumstances to compel us to do what we should have done at the beginning: surrender all control to God.



Remember Jacob? Before his sons could purchase any more grain for the famine, he was required to bring the very person Jacob had refused to release into God’s control—his youngest son, Benjamin. In Jacob’s own words, “My son shall not go down with you” (Gen....&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/UnX1RClfQi8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/2590807063591778735/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=2590807063591778735&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2590807063591778735?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2590807063591778735?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/UnX1RClfQi8/why-problems-linger.html" title="Why Problems Linger" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I4eHWJVju7s/TtYocrRn6gI/AAAAAAAAA5c/ndoxpt-Zi6A/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-11-30%2Bat%2B6.55.25%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/11/why-problems-linger.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08AQX87eip7ImA9WhRSGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-1168507981628502742</id><published>2011-11-22T05:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-22T05:04:00.102-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-22T05:04:00.102-06:00</app:edited><title>We Never Stay the Same</title><content type="html">Tough circumstances of life always change our minds about God. They either force us to doubt what He’s promised, or they draw us closer to Him in faith. But we never stay the same. 



Despite his difficult years spent in Egypt, Joseph gave his sons Hebrew names, which revealed his continued faith in God. In naming his firstborn “Manasseh,” Joseph gave God credit as the One who had made him forget the toil and the pain his family had brought him (Gen. 41:51). Joseph’s second son he called “Ephraim,” meaning “fruitfulness,” for Joseph said,...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/vrrg8HEfF0E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/1168507981628502742/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=1168507981628502742&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/1168507981628502742?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/1168507981628502742?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/vrrg8HEfF0E/we-never-stay-same.html" title="We Never Stay the Same" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XJH3VO1U1ng/TspU3HKbJXI/AAAAAAAAA44/mwaasLjDN5Y/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-11-21%2Bat%2B7.40.13%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/11/we-never-stay-same.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQGR308fyp7ImA9WhRSE0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-578971505577453786</id><published>2011-11-15T07:22:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T07:22:06.377-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-15T07:22:06.377-06:00</app:edited><title>People, Pigs, and Priorities</title><content type="html">On one occasion, two individuals approached Jesus and declared they would follow Him wherever He went.



But Jesus’ response to them indicated that their hearts were more devoted to comfort and family than to Him (Matt. 8:19-22). After Jesus and His disciples sailed east across the Sea of Galilee, they landed at modern Kursi in “the country of the Gadarenes” (Matt. 8:28).



Mark and Luke use a more general location in describing the place, citing “the country of the Gerasenes” (Mark 5:1; Luke 8:26), referring to the city of Gerasa (modern...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/GxGvMfW0y90" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/578971505577453786/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=578971505577453786&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/578971505577453786?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/578971505577453786?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/GxGvMfW0y90/people-pigs-and-priorities.html" title="People, Pigs, and Priorities" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Za5PTqc2NuY/TsJkmKjU8xI/AAAAAAAAA4c/KQnXg3pXZLo/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-11-15%2Bat%2B7.07.43%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/11/people-pigs-and-priorities.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAGQXw5fip7ImA9WhRTF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-51044771756817773</id><published>2011-11-08T05:12:00.064-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T05:12:00.226-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-08T05:12:00.226-06:00</app:edited><title>Staring Death in the Faith</title><content type="html">Abraham lived for 62 years in the land God promised him before owning any of it. Even then, Abraham only purchased a plot of ground to bury his wife. The Cave of Machpelah in Hebron not only entombed Sarah’s body, but it also became the burial place of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 



So when Abraham purchased a plot to bury Sarah, he demonstrated great faith in God’s promise to give him all the land—even though he (and many descendants) would die before ever receiving it. “All these died in faith, without receiving the promises,” the book of...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/TJw9oUvTHXI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/51044771756817773/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=51044771756817773&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/51044771756817773?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/51044771756817773?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/TJw9oUvTHXI/staring-death-in-faith.html" title="Staring Death in the Faith" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Ht0lrYXdIs/Trc5btGIUeI/AAAAAAAAA3I/kQjnHFT-etE/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-11-06%2Bat%2B7.49.44%2BPM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/11/staring-death-in-faith.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4DQ3k9eip7ImA9WhdaFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-7158447178254046854</id><published>2011-10-26T17:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T17:09:32.762-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-26T17:09:32.762-05:00</app:edited><title>The God Who Hears . . . and Sees</title><content type="html">For Sarai, the only thing worse than a barren land was a barren womb.



So, turning to her culture’s custom, she told her husband, Abram, to give her children through her Egyptian maid, Hagar. But when Hagar conceived, Sarai became resentful and mistreated Hagar, who then fled.



The Bible says that the Lord found Hagar “by a spring of water in the wilderness, by the spring on the way to Shur” (Gen. 16:7). The location reveals that Hagar intended to head back home—to Egypt.



But God told her to return to Sarai and to name the child Ishmael...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/mQhvhVEly18" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/7158447178254046854/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=7158447178254046854&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/7158447178254046854?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/7158447178254046854?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/mQhvhVEly18/god-who-hears-and-sees.html" title="The God Who Hears . . . and Sees" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ds-nE6OzqJU/TqiEO10hl6I/AAAAAAAAA2g/sDe3szAaqr0/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-10-26%2Bat%2B5.05.07%2BPM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/10/god-who-hears-and-sees.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4FQ344eCp7ImA9WhdbGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-6178400760108514708</id><published>2011-10-18T08:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T08:35:12.030-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-18T08:35:12.030-05:00</app:edited><title>Mountain Biking</title><content type="html">Consider two unrelated terms:

BI·CY·CLE. noun: 1. A vehicle consisting of a light frame mounted on two wire-spoked wheels one behind the other and having a seat, handlebars for steering, brakes, and two pedals.



MOUN·TAIN. noun: 1. A natural elevation of the earth's surface having considerable mass, generally steep sides, and a height greater than that of a hill.

Two words that have nothing to do with each other.



The term, “bicycle,” or “bike,” conjures images of family outings—leisurely rides in the neighborhood or on country roads....&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/5aWrXmjyQpw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/6178400760108514708/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=6178400760108514708&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/6178400760108514708?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/6178400760108514708?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/5aWrXmjyQpw/mountain-biking.html" title="Mountain Biking" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ONZ-NHW6ELw/Tp1-vCkQpqI/AAAAAAAAA2U/-k2baWP5BRk/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-10-18%2Bat%2B8.26.48%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/10/mountain-biking.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08ERno9eSp7ImA9WhdbE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-5211651601347417293</id><published>2011-10-11T07:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T07:23:27.461-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T07:23:27.461-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Israel's feasts" /><title>Expecting the Feast of Booths</title><content type="html">It was probably the most unexpected request for the Feast of Booths ever made.



Jesus brought three of His disciples up on the slopes of a “high mountain,” probably Mount Hermon.



Six days after the prediction of His death in Jerusalem, Jesus gave affirmation to Peter, James and John of His glory, divine nature and coming Kingdom (see Matt. 16:28–17:8). The text says Jesus was “transfigured” on the mountain (Matt. 17:2; Mark 9:2). Jesus revealed His true glory, which His flesh had concealed like the veil of the Tabernacle had hidden God’s...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/3LlkUVXYdTA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/5211651601347417293/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=5211651601347417293&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/5211651601347417293?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/5211651601347417293?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/3LlkUVXYdTA/expecting-feast-of-booths.html" title="Expecting the Feast of Booths" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BD2XSAqRr-8/TpQ0LWCRWTI/AAAAAAAAA2I/qn2kldCp9ds/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-10-11%2Bat%2B7.04.05%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/10/expecting-feast-of-booths.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4ARHk4cCp7ImA9WhdUF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-8081049001772960489</id><published>2011-10-04T07:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T07:22:25.738-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-04T07:22:25.738-05:00</app:edited><title>Yom Kippur . . . and Satisfaction Fulfilled</title><content type="html">Friday begins Yom Kippur—the Day of Atonement. I'll never forget a conversation I had in Jerusalem at the Western Wall.



A  Jewish woman approached me. She somehow knew my  affiliation with a radio ministry and told me we needed to broadcast  God’s way to be saved to the nations. I told her that was, in fact, our  passion.



She smiled and shook her head, and then she shared with me a list  of what all Gentiles need to do to be saved. I recognized some of the  standards as being from the Ten Commandments, and I told her so.



Again,  she...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/lzAHMAowHZs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/8081049001772960489/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=8081049001772960489&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/8081049001772960489?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/8081049001772960489?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/lzAHMAowHZs/yom-kippur-and-satisfaction-fulfilled.html" title="Yom Kippur . . . and Satisfaction Fulfilled" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SjfpLZFBiF0/SsHnAwuzTQI/AAAAAAAAAcM/aWlQeDEnHfM/s72-c/Picture+2.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/10/yom-kippur-and-satisfaction-fulfilled.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcMRXY5fSp7ImA9WhdUEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-758145056227545326</id><published>2011-09-27T06:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T06:31:24.825-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-27T06:31:24.825-05:00</app:edited><title>A Great Day for the Trumpet</title><content type="html">Thursday is Rosh Hashanah, the “Head of the Year” in the Jewish calendar—also associated with the “Feast of Trumpets.” It marks the Jewish New Year of 5772.



When I went to Jerusalem, our group visited the Southern Steps excavations where an ancient, paved street sits unearthed from the time of Jesus. When the Romans destroyed the Temple, they hurled its stones down into this street. I saw one of those stones that had a Hebrew inscription that reads: “To the Place of Trumpeting.”



This represents the spot where the priests would stand and...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/MbPxZP5fnQ8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/758145056227545326/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=758145056227545326&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/758145056227545326?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/758145056227545326?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/MbPxZP5fnQ8/great-day-for-trumpet.html" title="A Great Day for the Trumpet" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/09/great-day-for-trumpet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0INQnc-fyp7ImA9WhdVFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-5387770187178632682</id><published>2011-09-20T07:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T07:26:33.957-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-20T07:26:33.957-05:00</app:edited><title>Instant Gratification</title><content type="html">Sometimes the new life God is leading you to won’t seem as great as the one He has redeemed you from. Remember the whining of those redeemed from Egypt?

We remember the fish which we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers and the melons and the leeks and the onions and the garlic. —Numbers 11:5

In those moments, we betray our selective memories.



We remember the pleasures—leeks, onions, fish, etc.—all sensory, and no spirituality. It is never the lack of spiritual connection with God we miss. It is always the pleasure. All things being...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/msaEMd3Cla0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/5387770187178632682/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=5387770187178632682&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/5387770187178632682?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/5387770187178632682?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/msaEMd3Cla0/instant-gratification.html" title="Instant Gratification" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ma3OlUg4wK4/TniEheRc3LI/AAAAAAAAA1U/3RBDYKMalvQ/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-09-20%2Bat%2B6.54.31%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/09/instant-gratification.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYFSHwycSp7ImA9WhdVEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-321183317036433303</id><published>2011-09-15T09:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T09:48:39.299-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-15T09:48:39.299-05:00</app:edited><title>Need a Break? Try Crooning Croatians</title><content type="html">Okay, you probably need a break this time of the week. This won’t take long.  



When Cathy and I were in Split, Croatia, this summer, we stopped for an ice cream and I heard these Croatian crooners behind me. 



I took their picture, but I also recorded about sixty-seconds of their music with my inconspicuous iPhone. (It was a lot cheaper than buying a CD.) 



Press play to hear them: 

    



While you listen, enjoy a few more pictures of beautiful Split, Croatia (below). 



Then you can resume your normal day. 



It is vain for you to...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/lWT8OFsoSrs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/321183317036433303/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=321183317036433303&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/321183317036433303?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/321183317036433303?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/lWT8OFsoSrs/need-break-try-crooning-croatians.html" title="Need a Break? Try Crooning Croatians" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jgFCit8C6As/Tm9ajjPDMZI/AAAAAAAAA00/FsgEwHNleJw/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-09-13%2Bat%2B8.09.01%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/09/need-break-try-crooning-croatians.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcBRH8-fip7ImA9WhdWGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-4605627409302326885</id><published>2011-09-13T07:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T07:30:55.156-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-13T07:30:55.156-05:00</app:edited><title>Back from Rome . . . with Lessons</title><content type="html">Cathy and I enjoyed a trip to Rome this summer with Insight for Living. We saw the standard sites of tourists—the Trevi Fountain, the Forum, the Colosseum, the Catacombs—and innumerable other historic sites that lay alongside modern streets and buildings. 



But what moved me most was a place most folks never see—and another place that wasn’t even on the map. 



The Apostle Paul wrote to the Romans of his plans to see them: "I have had for many years a longing to come to you whenever I go to Spain —for I hope to see you in passing, and to be...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/rUnm5UaS1zM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/4605627409302326885/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=4605627409302326885&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/4605627409302326885?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/4605627409302326885?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/rUnm5UaS1zM/back-from-rome-with-lessons.html" title="Back from Rome . . . with Lessons" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6YOKJvCRgEI/Tm9FX_MPjcI/AAAAAAAAAz8/AmqOMjRioN8/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-09-13%2Bat%2B6.49.44%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/09/back-from-rome-with-lessons.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UMRns8fSp7ImA9WhdWE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-6771383271091567368</id><published>2011-09-07T06:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T06:34:47.575-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-07T06:34:47.575-05:00</app:edited><title>Comparing Crosses</title><content type="html">When Peter first met Jesus, the fisherman followed the Master out of a motive for glory and a prime seat in the kingdom of God. But after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, Peter would follow out of gratitude for God’s grace—out of love.



Along the shores of the Sea of Galilee, the Lord looked far into the future—to Rome—and revealed what that love would cost Peter: “When you were younger,” Jesus looked at Peter, “you used to gird yourself and walk wherever you wished; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands and someone else...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/i8S7UAbxElM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/6771383271091567368/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=6771383271091567368&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/6771383271091567368?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/6771383271091567368?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/i8S7UAbxElM/comparing-crosses.html" title="Comparing Crosses" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aSvylgtIXz0/TmdT0XJAFBI/AAAAAAAAAzg/-rc7CmnDBTE/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-09-07%2Bat%2B6.19.51%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/09/comparing-crosses.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUMQXgzfCp7ImA9WhdXFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-929401333709071968</id><published>2011-08-30T04:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T04:58:00.684-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T04:58:00.684-05:00</app:edited><title>What Do You Want from God?</title><content type="html">If Jesus came up to you right now and asked, “What do you want Me to do for you?” how would you answer? What do you want from God?



Most of us want God to make our life easier. Others of us think we need God to make us more like Him. For most, it’s a blurred bit of both. But when we can’t have both, to which side do our prayers default? It all shakes down to this: Whatever we ask God for reveals our perception of need.



And like the disciples, we often only perceive our need for relief, ease, and promotion.



Did Jesus promise His...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/90BKxkFMPUI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/929401333709071968/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=929401333709071968&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/929401333709071968?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/929401333709071968?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/90BKxkFMPUI/what-do-you-want-from-god.html" title="What Do You Want from God?" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TLX_nlii6K4/TluLkNnibRI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/Ol9OFSHsi9Y/s72-c/climbing.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-do-you-want-from-god.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QNRXo5eSp7ImA9WhdXEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-2899900553064303586</id><published>2011-08-23T07:07:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T07:09:54.421-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-23T07:09:54.421-05:00</app:edited><title>Where You Are . . . the Center of God's Will</title><content type="html">Location is everything. And where God places us is no accident. 



Just look at Israel. Throughout biblical history, the land of Israel sat in an amazingly strategic position as the only intercontinental land bridge between the superpowers of the ancient world. The most important international highway of the Fertile Crescent ran the length of the land of Israel.



That means that any nation coming to or from Egypt, or traveling from the Mediterranean to the Gulf of Aqaba, had to go through Israel. For many years, Israel remained the...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/lzKnzZKaQL0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/2899900553064303586/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=2899900553064303586&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2899900553064303586?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/2899900553064303586?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/lzKnzZKaQL0/where-you-are-center-of-gods-will.html" title="Where You Are . . . the Center of God's Will" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zYadeMuhXf0/TlOMI1DoiXI/AAAAAAAAAzA/OHiYfXoQ64E/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-08-23%2Bat%2B6.16.16%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/08/where-you-are-center-of-gods-will.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MEQ3czeSp7ImA9WhdQFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-7980964591252515292</id><published>2011-08-16T06:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T06:50:02.981-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-16T06:50:02.981-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dead sea" /><title>The Dead Sea will Live Again</title><content type="html">Piles of driftwood, bleached white like old bones, surround the shoreline.



If bodies of water could be ghost towns, the Dead Sea would top the list. It’s the lowest place on earth, it’s the hottest spot in Israel, and nothing visible can live in its waters. 



A mosaic on the floor of a church in Medeba, Jordan, represents an early tourist map for Byzantine pilgrims on their way to the Holy Land. The map shows fish swimming down the Jordan River and then turning around once they hit the Dead Sea! As the Jordan River snakes its descent from...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/waynestiles/~4/Ud0XOjq79wE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/feeds/7980964591252515292/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8682685030402092144&amp;postID=7980964591252515292&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/7980964591252515292?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8682685030402092144/posts/default/7980964591252515292?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/waynestiles/~3/Ud0XOjq79wE/dead-sea-will-live-again.html" title="The Dead Sea will Live Again" /><author><name>Wayne Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01747647356227713761</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="24" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/791/4210/1600/Arbel.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2QPQce_vatI/TkpYBwT-SpI/AAAAAAAAAyg/CHlUJHNHvbQ/s72-c/Screen%2Bshot%2B2011-08-16%2Bat%2B6.42.22%2BAM.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://waynestiles.blogspot.com/2011/08/dead-sea-will-live-again.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkUAQXw-eCp7ImA9WhdRGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8682685030402092144.post-9128959966962355400</id><published>2011-08-09T05:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T05:04:00.250-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-09T05:04:00.250-05:00</app:edited><title>Just Returned from Ephesus</title><content type="html">Cathy and I just returned from a trip with Insight for Living to a number of biblical sites in Turkey. 



The most impressive? Hands down, it was Ephesus. 



The apostle Paul devoted three years as a missionary living in Ephesus. Later, when imprisoned in Rome, Paul penned the book of Ephesians to this vibrant church. Paul also would write two letters to Timothy, the church’s pastor. Finally, the apostle John lived there and probably wrote the Gospel of John before his exile to Patmos. What great teaching Ephesus received! 



No wonder...&lt;br/&gt;
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