A random thread of absolute randomness...

[kejedo]

should have read "PV equals nrt"

[dljbsp]

Jubal’s brief mention in Genesis shows how early Jehovah permitted the flowering of human creativity. Genesis 4:21 identifies him as the father of those who play the harp and flute, anchoring him as the first musician recorded in Scripture. His heritage came through Cain’s line, yet Jehovah still allowed gifts of artistry to blossom there. This illustrates that the ability to create—whether sound, craft, or language—is rooted in the fact that humans are made in God’s image (Genesis 1:27).

 

That creativity, however, carries responsibility. Jubal’s music itself is not condemned, but later we see music employed for both pure and corrupted ends. David’s psalms filled temple worship with praise (1 Chronicles 25:1; Psalm 150:3-5), while other scenes show music at idolatrous feasts (Daniel 3:5, 7). The contrast is striking: the same capacity for melody can either uplift Jehovah’s name or drown it in false worship. The lesson is clear—our gifts are morally neutral until directed by our devotion.

 

Music also reflects the invisible forces of the heart. It can be used to mourn (Lamentations 5:14-15), to rejoice (Luke 15:25), or to give thanks in worship (Ephesians 5:19). Jubal’s pioneering role, then, serves as a reminder that Jehovah planted within us the ability to communicate beyond words, to stir souls and reach upward in praise. His artistry becomes our stewardship. The question each of us faces is whether we will channel the beauty Jehovah seeded in humanity toward his glory or let it be absorbed into a world estranged from him (1 John 2:15-17).

 

[dljbsp]

Picture the scene: bent-backed scribes in Mainz, quills scratching through the night, their fingers cramped like twisted roots clinging to soil. They inked page after page of the Giant Bible, unaware that just down the street Gutenberg was quietly oiling gears that would change everything. The last great handwritten Bible — tall as a child, heavy as devotion itself — was less a manuscript than a farewell embrace.

 

Jehovah lets history rhyme this way. One age scribbles a closing line, another prints an opening word. The Giant Bible of Mainz wasn’t wasted effort; it was the bridge, the hinge, the turning key. Without it, the story of Scripture’s preservation would be missing the moment when human hands bowed out, and iron presses stepped in. Both ink-stained monks and smudged mechanics had a part to play. (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

 

And isn’t that the point? Whether you’re the last scribe or the first printer, the value isn’t in clinging to the tools but in serving the message. Jehovah’s Word strides across centuries — parchment, press, pixel — unstoppable. One generation plants, another waters, but God makes it grow. (1 Corinthians 3:6)

[CHecker]

The fruit and veg peels, old lettuce etc attract little gnats in the trash so I decided to take an itty bitty spot off the patio for a small compost area. I noticed that it seemed to compost down rather quick, or so I thought. Last night I added peels from cucumber  apple, peach and big handful of old lettuce, nice. It wasn't a big pile but a pile just the same. I got up early this morning and all that was left was 1 scrawny leaf!! I have a furry thief stealing my compost! 😅😅

[dljbsp]

Arba and the City of Hebron 

 

They said his name like thunder rolling off the hills: Arba. He wasn’t just a man—he was a mountain with skin. So feared, so renowned, that an entire city bent its identity around him. Kiriath-Arba, “the city of Arba” (Joshua 14:15). Imagine that—your very shadow so large it rewrites the welcome sign.

 

But shadows stretch long only until the sun moves. Arba’s fame shriveled before Jehovah’s unfolding story. The Anakim may have looked like walking fortresses (Numbers 13:33), yet stone giants crumble when God decides the land belongs to His promise (Genesis 17:8). Hebron, once stamped with a giant’s name, would be carved into history as Abraham’s dwelling place (Genesis 13:18), later entrusted to the Levites (Joshua 21:11). What the world branded with muscle and menace, Jehovah renamed with covenant and care.

 

That’s the lesson, bold as iron: men can puff up their legends, tower like redwoods, hammer their names onto stone. But Jehovah? He rewrites. He repurposes. He outlasts. Arba left bones in the dust; Jehovah left Hebron glowing in His story. Which name will live longer—yours carved by fear, or His etched by promise?

[kejedo]

The ural mountains separate Europe and Asia