If you’re a regular reader, you know that I rarely just post links to other blogs—I prefer to generate new content that can’t be found elsewhere. Once in a great while, however, I make an exception when something is just too good to pass up. (I also happen to be fighting a bad cold, and I really don’t feel like thinking very hard at the moment.)
One of my friends may have posted something deep and thought-provoking. A blogger I read may have received a God-given insight that I just have to share. And then there’s this blog, which I think is hilarious. Thanks, Uncle John, for bringing it to our attention!
Anyone who has studied another language knows that words, much less concepts, don’t always translate the way we’d expect. But if you’re going to tattoo something onto your body—we’re talking permanent, folks—you might want to check with a native speaker first. Otherwise, you too could find yourself featured on this website:
I screwed up, and now I’ve got to suffer the consequences.
How often do we think that?
Even as believers, we sometimes view God as a strict disciplinarian, making sure we “learn our lesson” each time we fail. But is this an accurate view of God? Is He really the angry and wrathful person we imagine Him to be?
A close friend recently called me, upset and worried about a lack of finances. As a full-time student, he doesn’t have a job, and a long-awaited check was smaller than expected. Car insurance, gas to get to school, and other expenses aren’t going away, and there just won’t be enough money to see him through the end of the term.
His immediate reaction was one I’m very familiar with—where did I go wrong? Did I spend too much money over the summer? Should I have looked harder to get a job? (He’s moving out of state as soon as the semester ends, and has been unable to find a temporary, part-time position.) Is God letting me suffer the consequences of missing His will?
Among the approximately 200,000 words in the English language (give or take a few), “Dord” is unique.
Oh, it’s in the dictionary, or at least it used to be, right there between Dorcopsis (a genus of small kangaroo) and doré (meaning gold). But it doesn’t mean anything. In fact, it was there by accident. Dord isn’t really a word.
Turns out that for five years, from 1934 through 1939 , Webster’s New International Dictionary mistakenly included dord as a real word, defining it as a noun meaning density.