Thomas Dunbebin
Artist, Review and Herald, Publishing Association
Laodicea's Long Winter Nap
GRAVEL-VOICED EVANGELISTS are shouting that our civilization has now come upon the edges of winter. Indeed, since 1967 when the Arab-Israeli war caught us without antifreeze in our prophetic pick-up trucks we've shivered in the icy rut of apprehension. But to a comfortable church living in the Christmas Eve atmosphere of Laodicea the newspaper serves only as a convenient starter for the evening fire. In a warm stupor, "Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap Settle our brains for a long winter's nap. . . ."
Mamma, Does God Decorate a Christmas Tree too?
YES, ANNETTE . . . But it's bigger, wider, deeper than ours. It is as tall as His mind can create, as wide as His arms can reach, and as deep as His love can touch. It spreads its galaxies like a tree--branches of shining stars flung out in space like moonlit pine boughs. And at the end of each He has hung a glowing world. And God moves between the branches and polishes each planet that glorifies the heavens. . .