Good Morning, Digital Neighbors! Blessed Sunday to any and all! While every day is a day to thank God, Sunday is the day of gratitude. Every Sunday, disciples of the Risen One celebrate His victory over sin, fear, and death. When they can hold those truths close to their hearts, they can become an unstoppable force for good in the world—true salt to preserve what is good and bring out its fullness, true light to illuminate creation in such a way that it reveals the handiwork of the Creator of all light and beauty with which He first formed His creation.
All this is done so that others might come to believe in the goodness of God, so that praise, honor, and glory are given to Him. It is not an easy feat. Too often, disciples can come to believe it is all about them and think that our good works are ours alone. Spiritual conceit is an ever-lurking problem if we cannot keep rooted in our own unworthiness—not in some sort of groveling, self-deprecating way, but rather in a simple and humble recognition that I am nothing without God and that I can do no good without His grace. That type of humility gives the Spirit ample freedom to act in our hearts. While our good works do not save us, it is clear to me that they sanctify us, and without them we risk not grasping the tremendous gift given to us without merit.
Well, enough of my preaching this morning—on to a prayer of gratitude. Know of my prayers for you this day as I go about shepherding the people I am so blessed to serve and love, and offer with them praise to the Living God. Thank you for allowing me to visit with you through is amazing medium of the internet. May your day be blessed.
Thank you for the tranquil night.
Thank you for the stars.
Thank you for the silence.
Thank you for the time you have given me.
Thank you for life.
Thank you for grace.
Thank you for being there, Lord.
Thank you for listening to me,
for taking me seriously,
for gathering my gifts in Your hands
to offer them to your Father.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you.
Michel Quoist, 1918–1997
Today marks the three hundred and thirtieth birthday of the Frenchman François-Marie Arouet, better known by his nom de plume, Voltaire (1694-1778).
Born into a bourgeois family during the reign of Louis XIV, the “Sun King” (r. 1643-1715), Voltaire suffered tragedy at a young age when his mother died. Never close with his father or brother, Voltaire exhibited a rebellious attitude toward authority from his youth. His brilliant mind was fostered in the care of the Society of Jesus, who introduced him to the joys of literature and theater. Despite his later criticisms against the Church, Voltaire, throughout his life, fondly recalled his dedicated Jesuit teachers.
Although he spent time as a civil servant in the French embassy to the Hague, Voltaire’s main love was writing—an endeavor where he excelled in various genres, including poetry, which led to his appointment as the royal court poet for King Louis XV. Widely recognized as one of the greatest French writers, and even hyperbolically referred to by ...
Padre - Tom Miller invites you to a Coffee Talk, Speakeasies, Schmoozes, Tea Times, Afterhours and other gatherings.
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2026 Coffee Talk with the ADD Irregulars
Thursday, January 1, 2026
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I have a large number of blue Ball jars that I inherited along the way.
I know a number of people who have collections of the blue telegraph/telephone insulators.
Indiana's most famous natural landmark doesn't exist anymore. We sold it, one shovelful at a time.
The Hoosier Slide was a sand dune about 200 feet tall, standing where Trail Creek meets Lake Michigan at Michigan City. People took trains from Chicago just to climb it. There were picnics and weddings on top of it. Ship captains used it to find the harbor.
Then glassmakers figured out the iron in that sand turned molten glass a unique blue color.
From roughly 1890 to 1920, about 13.5 million tons of the Hoosier Slide left town. Wheelbarrows first, then steam shovels and railcars. Much of it went to Ball Brothers in Muncie and to Hemingray for telegraph insulators.
By 1920 the dune was flat. A power plant sits on the site today. Mount Baldy, now the tallest dune on our stretch of the lake, is about 126 feet.
If you've ...
XIII
The Proud Minister
One day there came into the Garden a man in torn clothes badly bruised and cut, who said to the Lover, “In the name of the Beloved I demand your help.”
So the Lover and the Disciple let him in and dressed his wounds and prepared the best of the vegetables from the Garden for him to eat. When his wounds had been dressed and he had eaten and rested the Lover asked him how he had fallen into this plight, to which the man replied, “I was Minister of the Beloved in a city near this place, where I preached His gospel and expounded His doctrine to the people. I pointed out to them how their sins had made them wholly hateful to the Beloved and how therefore they were utterly beyond the range of His love and He would condemn them to eternal torments, whereon some fell into despair and wept bitterly but many were angry. One day the magistrates called me before them and begged me to leave the city and preach elsewhere for they said I had made many people so angry and desperate that they feared there might be a riot and they might not be able to protect me but that I might suffer some injury. I, however, very zealous for the Beloved and believing that the magistrates only feared that their own sins might be proclaimed, preached the more vehemently, denounced the magistrates and made it abundantly clear that the whole wicked city was foredoomed to eternal punishment by the just provision of the Beloved. Whereon a mob, stirred up no doubt by the corrupt and venal magistrates, fell upon me with sticks and stones, nearly killing me and driving me out of the city in the state in which I came to you.”
“My friend,” said the Lover, “this was not a good deed of yours, for besides denying the unfathomable compassion of the Beloved, you have by your obstinacy caused these people to commit a grievous sin, and this cannot be pleasing to the Beloved, that through you who profess to be His minister the people should become worse. Surely you remember that He Himself said, ‘If they persecute you in one city flee to another.’”
Therefore the man was very angry, and cursing the Lover, said, “I see that I have had a very false report of you and I do not believe that you are a servant of the Beloved at all. When I came to you so injured for the Beloved’s sake you set before me only herbs and fruits although the garden is full of birds which you could have killed to make me a worthy meal. I shall proclaim everywhere that you are no true servant of the Beloved but a mere falterer who dares not suffer in the cause of the Beloved. Be sure that you are foreordained to eternal torments who suffer nothing here.”
For the man was so blinded by his own pride that he could not perceive the scars on the hands and feet and the brows of the Lover nor how the cloth beneath the armpits of his tunic was dyed with a red dye. So he went out of the Garden cursing and shouting.
But the Lover looked sad and said, “A man like this does much harm to the cause of the Beloved, for by thus speaking falsely about the Beloved he may bring men to fear Him but none to love Him, and by love alone can any man approach the Beloved.”
