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What are “labels” except division

So many times I have heard people talk about this denomination or that denomination or this “religion” or that “religion” and so on. The reality is that we are all simply people standing before a living God. All of this talk simply creates divisions; an “us” against “them” mentality.

Having grown up without knowing much about God, save for some time spent in a Sunday School briefly, when I found Him, my life was not spent in one denomination but many different ones. From one to another to another I went, partly because of my family’s constant moving, and partly because I was not looking at the outside or structures, but rather searching for people that lived what they believed. If I found it in a Catholic Church then that was fine for me. If I found it in a Baptist church then that too was fine. As was any denomination that was there.

My belief was not always welcome, but I always found it hard to describe what I felt about all of this to people. Normally I would just tell them that it does not matter where people come from or which denomination or religion they come from, but only that they love God and live this in their lives.

Now, in reading this email, I found this explanation that seemed to be so much clearer in explaining how we are simply people before a living God, nothing more and nothing less. The labels are nothing.

Let me state here and now that man, not God, started every denomination, institutional church, and house church on the face of the earth. Some may be following God’s will, some only think they are following God’s will, and most are just doing what they want to do with no thought to God’s will. We aren’t interested now in explaining how or why they do what they do, we simply wish to state that man does all these things, not God. The Kingdom is within you. There is only One Church, and that is the Church that Jesus is building. There is only One Flock, and One Shepherd. Everything else is periphery.

When we see how much of this is man’s doing we are liable to become upset over it all, but God just bypasses and transcends the boundaries we put up between one another. God is just too big to confine Himself to working within one little sect, whether they are “in” or “out” of the religious system. God has never blessed a denomination, and He never will. He blesses people, not movements. He judges people, not systems. He only sees one thing, and that is His Son. He only gives us one thing, and that is His Son. If you have the Son, you have Life. If you do not have the Son, you do not have Life. This is the only thing God is looking for.

Sent in an email from Glory of His Cross Prophetic Ministries, titled “One Flock, One Shepherd” by Chip Brogden.

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Missionary Conference in Virasolo (The Conference)

Arrival
Having arrived at the church, we were shown to our rooms. Mine was the pastor’s office, converted to a bedroom with two beds. The girls lived in a house attached to the side of the church. My room was located in the middle of everything. Next to our dining room, immediately behind the stage wall to of the church, and above the kitchen and meeting place for church members.

The facilities were basic, providing the necesities, but their hospitality was excessive. We were always fed with newly cooked food, even if there was enough left over to make another meal out of it, and were given enough drink to quench even the driest of thirsts. There were always people around to make sure that we were comfortable and to check if we needed anything else. And people were always available to show us around the local area, which they did. But they were never overbearing or crushing. I felt very comfortable here.

Having organised myself for the night, I wandered into the main church building, following a narrow hallway with several doorways on the right leading into the auditorium. I choose the third and enter into a large area filled with over a hundred people. The opening service had begun.


The church that held the Missionary Conference.

The First Night
During the course of the night, each of us were introduced to the people attending, making our way to the front to say a few words and then returning to our seats. Nancy spoke that night, about Missions and the importance of it. My turn would come the next day when I was to speak at a workshop at 10am.

Exhausted after the meeting, I turned in for an early night almost immediately afterwards. No sooner had I fallen into bed than there was a knock on the door. Upon dressing I discovered that it was somebody concerned that I would not be able to get out to the toilet without a key for the outside door. They offered me the key and left. I quickly fell back into bed again. Half an hour later there was another knock on my door. Again, after rising and dressing, I open the door to another person checking that I was able to get out to the toilet that night should I need to. I assured them that all was well and that I had a key so they could rest easy. Then fell back into bed.

The normal hour for sleeping is normally close to midnight, so these calls from people around 11pm were very common and they would have expected that I would be still awake. I wasn’t, and at a few minutes to midnight, a persistent knock at my door finally dragged me out of my deepening sleep. Upon rising, I discovered the the group who had been making a bunch of noise downstairs, almost directly underneath my room, were now leaving. I thanked them for informing me, turned and grabbed my newly given key, and followed them out, bidding them farewell and locking the door after me. Sleep came very easily.

Delivery Day
It was only a little after 6am that I awoke to my alarm. Underneath my room I could hear noises and movements of a number of people. Things were scheduled to start at 8am, so I wanted to be sure that I would be ready in time. A quick shower and I was ready to go and it was still only 6.40am. So after some morning routines I join the people downstairs for some mate and a chat. At around 7.15am I overhear some worried ladies talking about how the two girls have not yet risen. The girls rose only shortly afterwards.

Around this time, one of the men rises and announces that he is going to search out some “facturas” for breakfast. These are sweet croissants and other concoctions from the bakery that make for a very standard breakfast here. Then looking over my way, he offers me a ride around town to show me a little of the place. I don’t wait for a second invite and quickly climb on his scooter for the ride. We head down the streets looking for an open bakery.


Heading out to the bakery on the bike.
Continue reading “Missionary Conference in Virasolo (The Conference)”

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Holiday Time

Well, it is very close to holiday season now. I am getting ready to head off into the wild blue yonder. There is nobody to travel with me this time, so I am aiming to head for groups of friends in different places.

First stop is Buenos Aires, where I will catch up with some of my friends there for Christmas and the days around it. After this, I plan on heading south, with a possible stop in Mar de Plata. I was there once before but it was during winter and I have heard that it is a very different place during the summer. Continuing onward, my destination is Puerto Madryn, home to another YWAM mission station.

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Missionary Conference in Virasolo (Getting There)

“Rob,” the message came to me with urgency, “the taxi is outside waiting for you.” I had been talking with my friend Lehman about plans and ideas and had lost track of the time. Mostly packed, I quickly stuffed my computer and associated bits into my bag where they would fit and then raced out the door, concerned that the rush may have meant I had forgotten something. It was too late now anyway. Our bus was leaving in 25 minutes.

When I reached the taxi, Norma and Nancy were already there waiting to go. Throwing my bags into the boot, I climbed into the front and we were off. The taxi wove us through various pathways and roads on our way there. Leaving our area, we bounced and bumped along the badly eroded dirt roadways at speeds approaching 20 kms per hour. It was only once we reached the main roads, surfaced in asphalt, that we could travel at the regulated 60 kms per hour.

My view in the front seat was obstructed by a plastic sign jammed into the upper corner of the windscreen on my side. It contained the phone number of the taxi company and proved to be the perfect size to reduce the vision from my right eye to virtually nothing. So I found myself leaning left and right as we weaved our way through the meandering traffic just to see anything. It was just after 1.40pm in the afternoon. Our driver was pretty crafty in the paths he chose, and managed to cut through a service station, and squeeze through tiny gaps in the traffic to deliver us at the bus terminal with only minutes to spare.

The bus was waiting for us down the other end of the platform and after checking our bags into the storage space underneath the three of us clambered aboard and found our seats. I was seated on my own, next to a woman that managed to sleep for most of the journey. This was not the comfortable buses with wide seats and a food service. Those buses only travel between major destinations. Our destination was small and local, and our bus was narrow with two seats either side and an aisle that was filling up fast.

As a local bus, if there were people wanting to get onboard then it stopped. If people wanted to get off then it stopped. There were designated stops for the bus, but they were more of a guideline than a hardened rule. I guess these were the places that people knew to wait for the bus at least. As more people got onto the bus, there were no seats left for them to sit, so they just stood around in the aisle, bags at their feet.

People of all sorts were on our bus. From the local gaucho cowboy with his big belt, felt hat, and traditional clothing, to two modern girls decked out in the fashionable tight jeans and loose top typical to this part of the country. A father and son with their shopping for the week stood in the aisle saying nothing, while a middle-aged mother of three or four (it was hard to tell for sure) spent most of her journey telling the kids what they can’t do and should have done.

Five long hours later and we roll into the township of Virasoro, our destination and home to the Fourth Missionary Conference (of Virasoro). As soon as we had gotten off the bus and retrieved our bags we were met by the pastor and ferried in his car to the church hosting the conference.

We had arrived.

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Discipleship school graduated

Well the students of the Discipleship school finally graduated last friday and have all gone, leaving this place feeling a little empty. It has been great to have so many people from many different nations around, and there will be a few coming back next year too. But now that it is quiet, it is time to get some work done.


Students of the Discipleship School 2005.

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The Debate About Christmas

This is a great perspective aligner on the whole issue of Christmas that has been going on this holiday season in the USA. I fully agree too – let’s get back to the core of Christmas and not get bogged down in the trivial.

I am nearly confident that if Christ were born in 2005 the brief verses involving the magi in Matthew 2 would read something like this:

Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” [But those who believed in the deity of the Messiah prevented the magi from worshipping Him because they were pagan Gentiles and did not call Jesus the Messiah but rather by the Greek name, Christ. Frustrated by their blocked attempt to worship the one who came to bring hope and salvation to all men, they returned to the east.]

The evangelical Christian movement today finds itself deadlocked in an ideological battle over Christmas. The American Family Association boasts nearly 3 million members and has an active campaign to put Christmas back into the holiday shopping season. Bill O’Reilly mentioned on The O’Reilly Factor that businesses should be thanking Christ for the holiday season that boosts their sales. Speaker of the House Dennis Hastert has ordered that the Capitol tree be renamed the “Capitol Christmas Tree” after it was changed in the late 1990s to the “Holiday Tree.” Never before has there been such an overt war against secularism at the holidays.

Satan is clever, make no mistake. It is possible for us to take our eyes off the deep issue, think we are fighting the good fight, only to discover we have our sights misaligned and are missing the target. Satan spends his time making sure Christ’s birth never gets the attention it deserves. How we play into that process is crucial to the bigger picture of the Church being salt and light to a dark world.

Before Christ was born, the ancient Romans had more holidays than any other culture in history. They were wild partiers who took every opportunity they could to drink, carouse and fornicate. In many ways, their religion was constructed around these opportunities to act like the gods they worshipped. One holiday was the winter solstice festival, appropriately named Saturnalia after Saturn, the god of farming. This celebration lasted from the Dec. 17 to Dec. 23 and was filled with decorating and partying. They even had evergreens that they would chop down and put up to celebrate the life of trees in the harshness of winter. This holiday eventually devolved into debauchery—so much so that the word saturnalia came to mean “orgy.” Early Christians coincided Christmas with Saturnalia to avoid religious persecution.

So where did the gift-giving and Santa Claus come into play? As early as the fourth century, Saint Nicholas, a bishop in modern day-Turkey, was known for a gift-giving lifestyle that benefited those who were impoverished. He once presented three dowries for three poor daughters to avert them from turning to prostitution in order to earn income for their family. There are also links to German and Dutch folklore that trace back to Christianity. Eventually, around the 17th century, these tales evolved into the notion we have today of Santa Claus. It is in the late 1800s that the commercial appeal of Santa Claus and Christmas took off to the astronomical economic figures we see today. It appears, unfortunately, that the birth of the Messiah has mostly played a backseat role to the mythological gods and folklore.

While the war we fight is ideological, we have apparently chosen to fight a battle over semantics instead of lost souls. Whether Christmas (from old English, meaning “Christ’s Mass”) or holiday (also from old English, meaning “Holy Day”) season is employed as the term of choice, Christians appear to have taken issue with the non-use of the term “Christmas” in stores.

While I don’t have an issue with the auspices of the debate, I think the larger war is left unfought.

Tell me, what relevance does Christmas have to a corporate executive who does not have a faith in Jesus Christ? Further, how do upset Christians appear to that executive when they demand that he recognize a holiday that he doesn’t understand or to which he doesn’t ascribe? As believers, why would we even want a corporation who cares nothing for the birth of Christ incarnate to capitalize on His observed birthday and name in their holiday advertising? Despite how duplicitous it is for these companies to fail to mention it altogether, it seems heretical for believers to demand that unbelievers trumpet Christ for financial gain.

It is as if the moneychangers returned to the temple demanding this time that the temple, be renamed a market. That idea is horrifying to us, yet we allow the celebration of our Savior’s birthday—the entrance of hope into the world and one of the holiest days in all of redemptive history—to remain commercialized and more about what Santa may bring the kiddies than about the hope of salvation to all our weary, wayward souls. We have let Christmas become what it is—an argument over semantics. Well, ’tis the season.

There are people who turn away and turn off the magi of today from worshipping because their corporate creed does not fit our warm, fuzzy sentiments about a holiday whose true meaning we only half-heartedly embrace amid the more tangible celebration of gift-receiving and merrymaking. We should be pointing them to the reason we have to celebrate in the first place!

Christmas is the celebration of the birth of our salvation. Unfortunately, it’s never been a holiday dedicated solely to its impact on all of humanity. Much of the debate today centers around the narrow-minded and hypocritical view some Christians take toward their perceived rights of ownership on the holiday season. It is almost as if we are trying to be recognized by the world for what we think, and in doing so, we have distracted everyone from what it is we celebrate.

My suggestion is humble and simple: instead of worrying over whether we call it a holiday season or Christmas—neither of which is actually historically accurate given, its unholy origins and current forms of celebration—let’s invite everyone we know to be magi, recognizing the star in the east, the Light of our lives, and coming to see and to worship the King wherein we find hope, joy, peace and life to all.

If we are fighting the ideological battle at its root—the heart—then those who disagree with our choice of semantics or holiday displays will discover that the hope we celebrate at Christmas is universal and relevant to all mankind. We will not have to engage in the battles we are in because our message would be more easily embraced this way. Not through attempts to strong-arm unbelievers into a faith they do not yet understand because they have not been invited to come and see the King for themselves. This year, let’s show them that Christmas (or the holiday season) is about more than an idealogical battle; it’s about a Savior.

Mike Parrish serves as the Minister of Students for Southside Baptist Church in Richmond, Virginia. He is a visionary communicator called to unite the Church by rethinking its strategic purposes in the world and teaching believers that they are catalysts for cultural change.

Received in an email from a friend but believed to be sourced from RelevantMagazine.com.

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Christmas in Argentina

Arriving in Buenos Aires
Having made it down to Buenos Aires in a luxury coach with full length beds, I wandered through the city with my two bags, making my way slowly to the subway entry. On the way to my destination, the YWAM base in Ituzaingo, I stopped at the home of some old friends from the LIFE Argentina ministry.

At this house I heard how two of the workers had left over the time since I last saw them, and how well things were going for the ministry these days. It was good to see some old friends again, and I marvelled at how our friendships had lasted during a break of well over a year.

Luxury Bus
My luxury bus

Moving onward, via train and bus and walking, I finally arrive at the Ituzaingo base and get acquainted with both the new and old faces that are still here. Most of the staff have gone for the holidays but there are still around 60 people including students left here. The students have just finished the training part of their course and are about to leave for their outreach phase in a few days.

This Christmas was my very first Christmas ever in Argentina. The year before I was alone in a hotel room on the beaches of Viña del Mar in Chile, and the year before that in a hostel in Barcelona, Spain. There is nothing like spending Christmas with friends.

Buenos Traffic
Welcome to Buenos Aires

Christmas Dinner
On Christmas Eve a group of tables were placed out on the grass between the buildings. The temperature was a moderate 25 degrees (Celsius) and cooled off as the night progressed. Scheduled to start at 9.00pm, we were now accustomed to waiting significantly longer before seeing things truly get underway. True to form, our dinner started sometime around 10.00pm. I say sometime around then because we all started wandering out and filling up the tables at this time. Even as late as 11.00pm people were coming out to sit down at the tables. But it was around 10pm that we started.

Everybody was very dressed up for this night. Girls in evening dresses and sparkling jewellery, guys in dress pants and fancy shirts, and all oozing the sweet scents of perfume. In my casual jeans, t-shirt and a casual button-up thrown over the top as a coat, I felt noticeably out of place, although the unshaven stubble probably helped me to remain consistent in my style.

With most people seated, food was initially served to us, and then left on the dedicated food table, where we were able to help ourselves to more as we desired. There was an abundance of food present, more than any of us could possibly eat, and a large range of choice from which to select. My preferences were the pizza slices, juicy chicken breasts, and special ham and cheese sandwiches with a flavour all of their own. Of course there were salads and other niceties, but I hardly noticed those.

desert
Some still hovering around the desert table.

After dinner was desert, with specialities from all over the world. My favourite was the special cake from Latvia that Maija made, based on her grandmother’s recipe, although the chocolate and sugar coated peanuts and the large range of cakes and sweet breads were also very enticing. With so much to choose from and all so delicious, it was no wonder that everybody converged onto the desert table until we had eaten our fill.

Celebrating Christmas
It was getting very close to midnight by now, so we all wandered over to the sound system where we gathered as a group and chatted while we waited. Only moments before midnight the countdown began. It felt just like the New Years Eves that I have experienced in Australia all of my life. At the stroke of midnight everyone cheered and then kissed and hugged each other, wishing each person in turn a “Feliz Navidad” or “Merry Christmas.” The kissing of course was kissing on the cheek, typical of greetings in this culture.

It took some time to move around our group of around 60 people, kissing and hugging each one, and wishing them a great Christmas. Some of the girls danced and jumped in the joy of the moment. Couples clung to each other and stared into each others eyes, rejoicing in the joy of the moment. An emotion of joy and contentment touched us all.

4th of July Celebrations
As our well-wishing came to an end, the boys pulled out the multitude of fireworks that they had purchased for just this moment. This was a night to celebrate, and judging by the sounds of explosions all over the neighbourhood, everybody was celebrating hard.

Even before our fireworks could be lit, there were bangs and splashes of light reaching above the trees and buildings surrounding us. Dozens of bubbles of glowing paper rose into the night sky as the candle inside them continued to heat these crude hot air balloons and the wind carried them to unknown places. As I was pondering the safety of all of these glowing torches floating through the sky, one caught alight, and its ascent turned rapidly into a plunge as this flaming ball of fire crashed down on some unsuspecting house below.

Fireworks
One of the fireworks that behaved.

Soon our fireworks were lit, and shooting flames of fire and splashes of light into the night sky, their bangs, pops, and whizzes joining in with the already loud cacophony of noises echoing throughout the area. Everyone gathered together to watch this wonderful display of amazing lights, oohing and ahhing at each creative display.

Suddenly and without warning a box of already firing fireworks toppled over onto its side. Instead of shooting its payload of a dozen flaming rockets upward, it was now pointing directly at the crowd and hot balls of fire, one after the other, were launched at high velocity into their midst.

This group of elegantly dressed people took a moment to realise what was happening, but as they did there was a wave of panic set amongst them and they all soon started running to escape these fireballs. The expiring box of rockets under the force of each launch, managed to move just enough so that each proceeding rocket continued to aim directly at the crowd. No matter where they ran, a rocket was heading their way.

Finally the box expired and the crowd, now dispersed, were a lot more wary.

War Games
The boys, after the larger fireworks had launched, pulled out some Roman Candles which are the long hand-held sticks that shoot a coloured ball of fire at regular intervals. Rather than being satisfied with watching the balls of light reach into the sky, they push one of their friends out in front of them, and proceed to try and “shoot” him with their fireballs.

Shooting Fireworks
Playing wargames amongst friends.

This unfortunate fella then has to run around the place, dodging each ball of flames, until the sticks finally burn out. Sometimes there is only one person “shooting” at him, but often there are two. Both those wielding the Roman Candles and him who is the “prey” of the moment, consider this to be a great game and the amount of laughter and shouting that goes along with it all would indicate this to be true.

The Party Afterwards
With the fireworks finished, the music was turned up loud and the party got underway. Dancing, chatting, and just plain having fun was the order of the night. One by one, people slowly started to retire for the night. I turned in at around 2.30am with the music still blaring at massive volumes, some stayed up until 6am or later.

From my room, our music blended with other noises and music all over the neighbourhood. This was an Argentine Christmas.

Dinner tables and dancing
Everyone dancing in front of the tables after dinner.

Christmas Day
Most rose very late today. It was the day after for most people. Those of us from western countries wished each other a merry Christmas for today was the day that you do this. Wishing one of the Argentines a merry Christmas, he looked at us and asked us why we were doing this now, since last night was the time for that. We explained that this was what you do in our culture. He smiled and thanked us, but the puzzled look never left his face. For him, Christmas had already been welcomed.

We smiled as he left, then turned and wished everyone a merry Christmas once again. For today was Christmas.

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Time to Travel

This is my last entry for a while… there is no Internet where I am heading. Time to shut down and pack my stuff. I am off to Puerto Madryn. Travel time again.

So have a wonderful New Year and I hope that all of your hopes and dreams come true this year.

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The Evolution of a Classy Bathroom

For most of my friends back home, going to the bathroom does not elicit major emotions. Showering, use of the toilet, and many other mundane tasks are things that just happen because they are part of the day. There is nothing extraordinary about it.

The Way Things Were
Here, for a long time, this simple action has been a significant ordeal. Living upstairs in a dormitory with toilets downstairs meant that we needed to get down there for all of the normal bathroom things. With the building in which we were living still under construction, our first method of getting down there required the use of a ladder, built from spare planks of wood.

Using a ladder was a novel way of accessing the different levels of our building, and on reflection was a better method than the stairs which came along next. This was because the stairs were built on the outside of the building, requiring us to brave the elements on every sojourn. Pouring rain, freezing temperatures, and mud everywhere all helped to dampen our desire to use the bathroom too often.

On top of all of this, we needed to grope around in the dark during the night for two keys which would first unlock the door at the top of the stairs, being very noisy and difficult to open, and then unlock the second door underneath the stairs to get into the lower level of the building. This door was very difficult to close without slamming and waking up everyone above it.

Our Own Bathroom
So when we moved into our current little house, it was an absolute wonder to have a bathroom, even though it was only a toilet and we needed to fill up buckets of water to flush it. Over time our little bathroom has evolved, from just a toilet to a toilet with a seat on it, and then a toilet that is fastened to the floor and sealed to prevent the odors floating through the house. Things were looking great.

We found a hand basin in the garbage at one point and rescued it to put in our evolving bathroom. The cracks in the basin didn’t leak and the tap still worked, so it quickly found a home on the wall. Then we decided to get more serious about our little room. Walking over to the building during the middle of winter for a shower was not a wonderful experience, and we had water here, so there seemed to be no reason why we could not have a shower here too. It did not take long before we had put in a shower too.

A Few Remaining Problems
Now, with what we all consider to be a very classy shower, a toilet that flushed, and a hand basin, we had a bathroom. No more journeys across the yard for a shower, no more unlocking of multiple doors to access the toilet. Life had become pretty comfortable, except for a few problems still.

Our bathroom floor had holes and lumps all over it, letting the water pool from our shower. After cleaning the water from our shower, we discovered that our toilet also leaked water onto the floor. By this time too its cistern did not work any more so we had to reach in and lift the plunger for it to flush, waiting until the water had gone before replacing the plunger back over the hole.

So no matter what we did, water remained on the floor of the bathroom, even if we cleaned and dried it every shower. Additionally, a reddish sand continually collected on our feet when we were in the bathroom, obviously coming from the floor and the walls. At this point we decided to go the extra mile.

The New Classy Bathroom
Now our bathroom sports painted walls, the paint stopping any of the sand from the walls appearing any more, and a tiled floor. The tiled floor actually drains the water from the shower into the drainhole. Now this may not be startling to many people, but after living with a shower in which the floor seemed to drain the water away from the drain hole, this is just a delight. In fact the first time I ran the shower, I simply stood there and stared at the water as it all went down the drain. It was like a little miracle taking place.

When we walk into our bathroom now, with the smooth tiled floor, finally dry, it feels a million dollars. Using our new ceramic toilet cistern – in place of the old plastic one – and it flushes without effort by simply pressing the button on top, it seems like magic. Looking at the floor and seeing it dry even after a day or two, with no more stepping around pools of water, breathes relief into our beings. Seeing how wonderful the whole thing looks, is comfort to our eyes.

Yes. We are certainly living comfortably with our newly evolved classy bathroom. And what a pleasure it is too.

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The Voice of the Conscience

David Kirkwood sends out a regular e-teaching every month. This month the topic was “The Inward Voice.” Explaining that even though the written law was given to the Jews back in the days of Moses, people already were living by a law that existed since the beginning. This was the conscience. Below is a quote from his message showing that well before there was a written law people followed their consciences…. probably even more so than they do today.

As much as two hundred years before Harkhuf, a grand vizier of Egypt named Ptahhotep, who served under Pharaoh Isesi, in his old age authored a collection of thirty-seven moral maxims that were addressed to his son. At least one thousand years before God gave the Ten Commandments to Israel (the recorded law), he warned his son against both lust and greed. Here are maxims 18 and 19:

If you want friendship to endure
In the house you enter
As master, brother, or friend,
In whatever place you enter,
Beware of approaching the women!
Unhappy is the place where it is done,
Unwelcome is he who intrudes on them.
A thousand men are undone for the enjoyment of a brief moment like a dream,
Then death comes for having known them…
When one goes to do it the heart rejects it. [Note this line!]
He who fails through lust of them,
No affair of his can prosper.

If you want a perfect conduct,
To be free from every evil,
Guard against the vice of greed:
A grievous sickness without cure,
There is no treatment for it.
It embroils fathers, mothers,
And the brothers of the mother,
It parts wife from husband;
it is a compound of all evils,
A bundle of all hateful things.
That man endures whose rule is rightness,
Who walks a straight line;
He will make a will by it,
The greedy has no tomb.

From the ShepherdServe.com website.