BibleForums Christian Message Board

Learning my youngest grandson chess. He has talent.

Good for you.  But grammar lesson.  You don't "learn your grandson"  you TEACH your grandson.  He learns.

Personally, I have come to the conclusion that when someone gets into public office, any office, it doesn't matter which office, they have their common sense surgically removed.

How do I know God exists?​


How do I know God Exists? I would answer with two words. Two names actually. Walter James Cloud and Caroline Elizabeth Harrison Robbins Cloud. The first was my dad. The second is my wife. I say is even though she has been dead for several years because she is as much a part of my life as she was when she was alive.

Both of these people were incredible gifts to me from a loving God who through them showed me how much He loved me. Dad and I were very close and when he died I didn’t know how I would get through it. But God lifted me up from the miry clay of grief, partly through the healing arms of my wife.

To understand the rest you have to know a bit about Caroline and me. To say that we were not a normal couple would be a gross understatement of monumental proportions. After all, how could we be “normal” considering when we got married I was 36 and she was 72? And right from the start we were so much a part of each other that we read each other’s minds, CONSTANTLY. Not a week went by, and hardly a day, when one of us didn’t say something that caused the other to respond “Get out of my mind.” Caroline was my partner in every sense of the word. A lot of married couples refer to their spouses as “my other half.” Caroline really was.

When Caroline died it was hell. How could it not be? And absolutely NOBODY could understand. How could they? They tried (and I’m glad they did). But I’ve never met anyone even close to our situation.

So how do I know God is real? Simple I’ve been through HELL!!! More than once, in fact. And when I had sunk to the lowest pit of hell, and it was threatening to bury me forever, I looked over and found I was not alone. Christ was there to pick me up, and lift me out, and place me in my loving Father's arms. And He held me in his arms, and cradled me to His chest. And He whispered in my ears that I was His child and He loved me more than I could possibly imagine.

How do I know God is real? HOW COULD I NOT?

David E. Cloud
(5/9/14)

Sunday April 28 I will be singing The Lord's Prayer at our 8:15 service.

Last night we had the first rehearsal for this year's The Living Last Supper. It went well and I found myself feeling again the feelings that last year's production instilled in me.  Still have some problems and a lot of work.  For one, our Simon the Zealot didn't show.  It looks like we have to replace him.  And this year we're adding a movement piece to Via Dolorosa.   A lot of work and very little time.

Just got back from the dentist.  I found out my insurance has approved my new, permanent, dentures.  They just took some scans today.  In 3 weeks I go back for them to take some molds.  No idea when the new dentures arrive.

I just remembered I am also singing on March 17th.  Will definitely need prayers.  I am singing He Looked Beyond My Fault And Saw My Need.  It is sung to the tune Danny Boy.  What is going to make it harder to sing is the 2nd verse.  I wrote it and I sometimes have trouble getting through it without choking up.

Recovering from my trip down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.  Getting ready for our next production.  The Living Last Supper.  We did this last year and I am again playing James.  Since I have a copy of the original script I am reviewing my lines.  This year we're doing it twice.  On Maundy Thursday we will be doing just the Supper.  On Good Friday we will be adding The Via Dolorosa.  And on March 17 I'll be singing He Looked Beyond My Fault and Saw My Need.   The director has me singing the first verse of Danny Boy, which is the melody for the other song.  I've written a 2nd verse that I'll be singing.  I hope I can get through it as the verse I wrote does have some personal touches.