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“He passed through the midst of them and went on his way.”
“Without love, I am a Noisy Gong or a Clanging Cymbal.” As I prayed with this text, I imagine Jesus—perched on the edge of a cliff—facing an angry mob of his family and friends—the people from his hometown—about to be hurled off the cliff—except the angry mob—the people—have become literal cymbals and gongs-- A mob of animated percussion instruments creating noise vile and violent enough to hurl Jesus from the cliff. |
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