<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522</id><updated>2012-02-16T12:33:32.310-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple John</title><subtitle type='html'>By David Peacock</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Unknown</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00711531694968583623</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522.post-7891710462086563136</id><published>2010-06-27T13:48:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T14:39:30.217-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;table bordercolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" width="100%" bgcolor="#000000" border="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table bordercolor="#fbf5c1" height="500" cellpadding="0" width="100%" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="40"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Table of Contents&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/chapter-1.html"&gt;CHAPTER ONE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-tried-to-tell-them.html"&gt;CHAPTER TWO&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/as-displeasure-of-most-of-his-peers.html"&gt;CHAPTER THREE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/chapter-4.html"&gt;CHAPTER FOUR&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1529290700271324522-7891710462086563136?l=simplejohn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/7891710462086563136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/7891710462086563136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/table-of-contents.html' title=''/><author><name>David Peacock</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522.post-5282006549276624172</id><published>2009-09-03T15:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T15:33:40.147-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter 5</title><content type='html'>The Sheep Gate was the way I usually entered into the city.  It would take me right beside the Bethesda Pool.  Some claimed that the pool had healing powers.  I was skeptical.  Still, many of the sick and lame would be there in hopes of finding healing.  Every now in then, excitement arose as one claimed to be miraculous healed.  Still, I did not expect &lt;i&gt;this &lt;/i&gt;commotion.  Our religious leaders were quite upset, and for good reason.  Some man was carry around his bedroll!  On the Sabbath!  How irreverent could this man possibly be.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;********************************************************************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What a blessing!  I had prayed often that God would allow me to witness His miraculous power. And now I have!  It was not as I expected!  It was much more amazing.  The healing was of a man who has been lame for 38 years!  Thirty-eight years without walking and now he is!  And it wasn't by the healing properties of the Angelic Pool.  This man was healed by Jesus!  I know in my heart, He must be the One!  Our freedom is near!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*******************************************************************************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1529290700271324522-5282006549276624172?l=simplejohn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/5282006549276624172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/5282006549276624172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/09/chapter-5.html' title='Chapter 5'/><author><name>David Peacock</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522.post-4095923419698323382</id><published>2009-06-27T14:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T14:35:43.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter Four</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Separation. Barriers. Dividers. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crossed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Creator like His creation tires. The Holy One interacts with the immoral one. The Jew engages the Samaritan. The Man speaks publicly with the woman.Separation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Barriers. Dividers. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Crossed.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;The bucket will never bring her the water she needs for the well does not contain it. Her soul is thirsty. Each one has promised to cherish her. Each one has lied. It no longer seems to matter anymore. Now she hides the deep longings of her heart with the deep secrets of her past.&lt;br /&gt;Approaching her destination, the Stranger speaks. This conversation, for so many reasons, should not be happening. But it is. He speaks with a knowledge of her heart that she herself does not even have. The water she came to get seems so unimportant in light of the Water of which He speaks. Her life is exposed as He reveals His insights. Vulnerable, heart racing, she changes the subject. She chooses one that is safe. But even here, the Stranger calls her to life with God that she has always wanted but thought impossible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is this Stranger? I have known Him but minutes and yet it is obvious that He knows me like no other. As her eyes water, her anxiety vanishes as she realizes, no one has ever loved me like this either.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;We learned what He knew.&lt;br /&gt;We heard how He loved.&lt;br /&gt;We saw for ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;We asked Him to stay.&lt;br /&gt;We believed.&lt;br /&gt;He is the Savior of the World.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;My little boy is dying. We have done everything we know to do. We are desperate. I have heard the stories of the One who can perform miracles. I pleaded with my husband to go to Him. He was reluctant. He has never asked for help from anybody before. In his position, he does not have to. He tells others what to do and it is done. But this is different. My husband is so strong. He has been so strong for me. For our boy. But I know he hurts as much as I do. I can see it in his eyes and in his movements. I can hear it in his voice. So this morning he left for Cana. Now, I feel guilty. My son worsens. I just hope my husband makes it back before. . . .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O God, I want all those things that I take for granted to happen again. The hugs he gives me. The way he smiles. The pictures he draws. Even, the times he is just too loud in the house. I want my boy back. I want to hear him say Mommy again.&lt;br /&gt;Mommy. Son? Mommy. Son!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1529290700271324522-4095923419698323382?l=simplejohn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/4095923419698323382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/4095923419698323382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/chapter-4.html' title='Chapter Four'/><author><name>David Peacock</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522.post-6717863963577271736</id><published>2009-06-27T14:23:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T14:59:08.105-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter Three</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As the displeasure of most of his peers towards Jesus grows, the possibility exist in his mind that Jesus might actually be from God. Maybe He was sent and empowered by God. To heal. To teach. To inspire. Maybe more? The cover of darkness provides the opportunity for the Pharisee to meet the Carpenter. Before the Pharisee's question is even asked, the Carpenter's answer is given.You must be born again.How so?!? This defies all I know of nature. It is absurd.Meaningless are your religious achievements and acknowledgements. You must be born again.Impossible!Nothing is impossible with God. You must be born again. Flesh begets flesh. Spirit begets spirit. As the wind, the Spirit is. Mysterious. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Powerful. Though the Spirit Himself is unseen, the mark of the Spirit is obvious. By the Spirit, you must be born again.Israel's teacher is mystified. For Now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poisonous snakes had infested the camp of God's people. The ingratitude they felt towards their God was replaced by fear and anxiety. Healing from the poison could be found only by looking in faith to the bronze serpent lifted high.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This story was well known by even Israel's children. Surely, it was known by Israel's teacher. But the twist on the story now leaves him with more questions than the night began with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Son of Man would be lifted up?&lt;br /&gt;Those who believe in Him will be saved?&lt;br /&gt;What does all this mean? Are the others right?&lt;br /&gt;Should I have even had this meeting?&lt;br /&gt;There just seems to be something so different Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For God&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All-powerful. All-knowing. Self-sufficient. Unchanging. Uncreated but the Creator of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So Loved&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Cared for. Laid His affection upon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The World&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;All humanity. The strong. The weak. The rich. The poor. Every race. Every people. From every continent. Speaking every language. The unborn. The old. The healthy. The lame. Those we call innocent. Those we call guilty. Those we honor as important. Those we treat as worthless. Sinners - there is no other type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That He Gave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Sacrificed. Offered. Sent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;His Only Begotten Son&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perfect. Unique. The Only One of the Father's Nature. The exact representation of His image. The radiance of His glory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That Whosoever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;An Open invitation. To me. To you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Believes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Trusts. Embraces. Depends upon. Receives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Should Not Perish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Face Death. Encounter Judgement. Enter Hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But Have Eternal Life.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everlasting Peace. Unspeakable Joy. Unending Adventures. With Him. With others. Forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1529290700271324522-6717863963577271736?l=simplejohn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/6717863963577271736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/6717863963577271736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/as-displeasure-of-most-of-his-peers.html' title='Chapter Three'/><author><name>David Peacock</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522.post-6690562679660320877</id><published>2009-06-27T14:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T14:35:22.431-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I tried to tell them. The preparations were insufficient for the number of guests that would be present and the number of days the celebration would last. I could feel the anxiety among those who had volunteered to help. As the last drink was served, one woman was especially concerned. She told her son to do something. He seemed hesitant. I understood why. After all, what could he do. It wasn't his fault. Still, the woman told us to do what he said. He told me and the others to fill the purification jars with water. I thought that was a pretty good idea. There was no point in even trying to find enough wine for the guests. At least they could drink water. And with the amount of water he asked us to get, no one would go thirsty. I assumed we would not draw attention to the fact that we were out of wine. But the man asked me to take some to our chief servant. After he tasted the water, he called up Nathaniel. I felt sorry for Nathaniel. Here it was his wedding celebration and he is about to be called out for his failure to adequately provide for his guests. But that was not what happened. He was honored for his wisdom for reserving the best drink for this part of the festival. Did I miss something? I tasted the water. It was water no longer. It was wine. The sweetest and most satisfying wine that ever had touched my mouth. I missed the name of the man who did this. Still, I was certain of one thing: He did something that no one else could do and he did it well. I knew that even though Nathanial received credit for what happened, the credit belonged to another. I wonder what else he can do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;God's people gathered. Holy ground corrupted. Holy indignation ignited. Tables overturned. The crack of a whip. The clanging of coins. What right did He have to do these things? What right did they have to question Him? What right do we?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;I have only been with Jesus a few weeks now, but everything He does and says confirms what I know to be true. He is the Messiah. I am beginning to think that I don't fully understand what that means. At our friend's wedding, he stepped in to solve what seemed to be such a mundane and insignificant problem. I know he loves our friend and wanted to help, so He did. I feel, however, His expanding love is such that He wants to step into the lives of so many more. Now we are in Jerusalem for Passover. As I contemplate what He did today, there is sense where He was completely out of character. There is another sense where the commotion He caused in the temple was completely in line with who He is. In Him there is a love and a holiness that meet that I have not seen in anyone before. I am concerned about the fact that the temple police and our leaders became so upset today. No one wants to be on their bad side. Jesus knows that too so I am sure He will be more careful in the future. They did make a good point though, how could we rebuild the temple in three days? And all the people who gathered around us, in some ways I doubt their sincerity. I think Jesus did too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1529290700271324522-6690562679660320877?l=simplejohn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/6690562679660320877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/6690562679660320877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-tried-to-tell-them.html' title='Chapter Two'/><author><name>David Peacock</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1529290700271324522.post-1802906562452447005</id><published>2009-06-27T14:13:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T14:35:08.190-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Go back to the beginning. As far back as your mind will allow you to travel. A little further. OK, a lot further. Further still. There is nothing there. Nothing that is but God. The Triune God. The Father. The Son. The Holy Spirit. Perfect unity. Perfect love. Perfect joy. Forever. Without beginning. Without end. Alpha. Omega. A. Z. Eternal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *&lt;br /&gt;Then He created. Time. Space. Matter. Things. Small things. Big things. All things. Everything. Rings that surround planets. Planets that are surrounded by rings. Planets that are no longer called planets - so the experts say. Living things. Small living things. Big living things. Intelligent living things. Lady bugs. Starfish. People. His handiwork. Out of nothing. Ex nihilo. By Him. For Him. He spoke and things that did not even exist began to listen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That's power.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There was no other way. The Son stepped out of eternity and into time. The One who was Spirit became flesh. Perfect Deity veiled in genuine humanity. All God. All man. The God-man. The Great I Am became human. Immanuel. God with us. Jehovah among us. Unrecognized. Rejected. Hated. But to those who received Him, adoption. By God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My name is John. I have been called many things. Peculiar. Passionate. Fanatical. Faithful. Arrogant. Abrasive. Bold. Hypocritical. Radical. Religious. Dangerous. The prophet. The baptist. Still, it does not matter. I am concerned only with the opinion of One. His call on my life is clear. I am consumed by this and by this alone. At whatever cost, I will make known to my Jewish brethren what God through His Spirit has made known to me: The Messiah is here. We must turn from sin that we may hear from Him. Some have called me great. The greatest among us are not in His class. He is categorically different. He is the Lamb of God. The voice of the Father spoke. The Spirit as a dove descended. If you have followed me in the past, follow Him from this point forward. I must decrease. He must increase. His glory is my joy. My life is not about me. It is all about Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Of all the things we can call Him, this was the title that we embraced.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of G&lt;/em&gt;od. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This was the name that compelled us to leave the one we previously followed in order to follow Him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We could not understand the full significance of this title until several years later. Still, we were gripped.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Spotless. Sacrificial. Substitutionary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Our teacher taught us about God's righteousness. The Teacher brought us God's righteousness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We did not simply need someone to show us the way we should go. We needed someone to save us from the way we were going.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This was too amazing to keep to ourselves. We had to share Him with those we loved.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had to tell my brother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had to tell my friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We have seen Him. Come see Him for yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As usual, my brother was enthusiastic. Excited.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As usual my friend was contemplative. Doubtful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;He gave my brother a new name. A name I didn't think fit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My friend gave Him new names. Names I knew fit. Rabbi. The Son of God. The King of Israel. But for us, the name that changed everything was this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Lamb of God.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The Word. God. Creator. Life. Light. Flesh. The One and Only Son. Glory. Grace. Truth. The Lord. The Lamb of God. The Son of God. Rabbi. Teacher. The Messiah. The Anointed One. The One Moses wrote about. The son of Joseph. The King of Israel. The Son of Man. Jesus Christ.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1529290700271324522-1802906562452447005?l=simplejohn.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/1802906562452447005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1529290700271324522/posts/default/1802906562452447005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://simplejohn.blogspot.com/2009/06/chapter-1.html' title='Chapter One'/><author><name>David Peacock</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
