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57-0407M GOD.KEEPS.HIS.WORD_ JEFFERSONVILLE.IN SUNDAY_
§ 87 – 91 God's Words were unfolding, and we must unfold as God's Word unfolds.
As time unfolds, signs unfolds. And if the natural world...
This man is the same man he was six thousand years ago when God made him. He's the same intellectual; he's the same intelligence; he's just the same man with the same five senses, that he was thousands of years ago; but look what progress he's made in the past fifty years. Look what that fallen son of God has did.
He's invented automobiles, and radio, and electric lights, and atomic bombs, and jet planes. Look how fast--the pages are turning fast in science. But we are trying to linger back on some old church creed, and stand there, when God wants us to unfold the Word. We're living in the last days. We're living in the time that God's great beautiful church ought to be standing on its feet, shining like the Lily of the Valley.
But we're back some, "Well, I belong to the Presbyterian, the Methodist, the Pentecostal. I'm this or that." Oh, what a disgrace. We should be unfolding, God's Spirit pouring out, not just one little gusher, not one little baptism, but baptism after baptism. Not a revelation, "Just shall live by faith," or sanctification, or the gifts of the spirit, but revelation after revelation, power after power, glory after glory, for we ought to be way up the road ready for the translation.
And we're lingering back down in the old things and saying, "Well, we keep going back." Let's go forward.
Version Française : Nous devons développer la Parole>>>
It's just like a lily. Where is... A lily, I think, is one of the most prettiest flowers that there is. I'm very fond of those great calla lilies and pond lily. I think there's nothing hardly as pretty as a great big pond lily, call it water lily. How it's radiance! Now, where does it come from? It's a little seed, down in the bottom of a muddy, mucky pond. And that little seed, yet, all the radiance that'll ever shine in it, is in it right then, when it's in that mud. But it has to strive, daily, knowing that there is something. It's black. It's dirty. It's mucky. It's slimy. In that slime that it's living in, yet it presses its way through the mud, the muck, and the waters, and the stagnant places, until it sticks its head above, in the light, and expresses what's been hid in it all the time.
63-0825M HOW CAN I OVERCOME JEFF.IN § 93