We Christians often act like heathen. We preach that it is wonderful to be a Christian, that Heaven is to be gained and Hell shunned. Then when one of our loved ones dies, we act as if it were all a lie. Our actions say that this world is better than the next, that death is a tragedy, and we ask querulously in our unbelief, Why? Why? Why?… Shame on us! When we weep and lament at the death of our loved ones [beyond God’s-honoring grief], we often make void our testimony, cast reflection upon the Bible and irreverence on Heaven. For the Christian, death is not a tragedy but a glorious promotion – not the sad end, but the glorious beginning.

John Rice

CATEGORY	CUISINE	TAG	YIELD
Vegetables, Eggs	American		1	Servings

INGREDIENTS

1	c	Flour
1/2	ts	Salt
1/4	ts	Cayenne pepper, optional
2/3	c	Water
2	tb	Vegetable oil
1		Egg white, stiffly beaten

INSTRUCTIONS

BY: The Mining Company Southern American Cuisine
Cut onion into rings and cover with ice water. Refrigerate while making the
batter. Combine batter ingredients, folding in stiffly beaten egg white
last. Drain the chilled onion ring slices, dip in the batter and fry in
batches in hot oil (375&deg;) for 3 to 5 minutes or until golden brown. Drain
on paper towels. Posted to MM-Recipes Digest V4 #153 by "Maria M. Schaefer"
<mariam@startext.net> on Jun 02, 1997

A Message from our Provider:

“The Wages of Sin is Death. Repent Before Payday”

A broken, leaping heart will love like Jesus. And the power of the love will be proportionate to the felt fearfulness of our nearness to destruction. The keener the memory of our awful rescue, the more naturally we pity those in a similar plight. The more deeply we feel how undeserved and free was the grace that plucked us from the flames; the freer will be our benevolence to sinners. We do not love as passionately as we ought because our belief in these things is not real. So our pride is not broken and our demeanor not lowly. And we do not look with aching and longing on the crowds that pass us in the airport or the straying members of our flock.

John Piper