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A MAGAZINE WHERE INANIMATE OBJECTS DESCRIBE BIBLICAL EVENTS

Objects in Genesis
describe scriptural events

 Nonexistent matter  Abraham’s knife

 Light  Nose ring
 Noah’s ark  Coat of many colors

September 2010
 Welcome to the September 2010 issue of Page 2

And Joshua said to all the people,

Behold, this stone...has heard
all the sayings of Jehovah
which he has spoken with us.
Joshua 24:27

Listen to biblical objects describe their experiences with the Trinity, the heavenly dimension, and the natural world.

The Background
The idea to produce this magazine came while I was reviewing back issues of Perspectives, which deals with
inanimate objects describing real-life events. I noticed that three contributors submitted entries pertaining to
biblical objects and animals. The seed was planted. Eventually, the possibility of devoting an entire
magazine just for objects mentioned in the Bible grew. Months later, I was reading a devotional—the
scripture for the daily reading was Joshua 24:27. I searched the Bible for similar scriptures. To my delight, I
read many references where objects like the sun, the moon, and other inanimate objects ‘voiced’ their praise
to God.
About the Magazine In this Issue
ISSN: 1920-4205 From the Editor’s Desk ................................................. 3
Frequency: Biyearly Nonexistent matter (1:1) ............................................. 4
Founding Editor: Monique Berry nothing by Brian Cobbledick
Designer: Monique Berry
Light (1:3) .......................................................................... 5
Editorial Assistant: Jennifer L. Foster
Did Someone Say Light? by C. Douglas Johnson
Noah’s ark (6:14) ............................................................. 6
Contact Info
Journey of an Ark by Rebecca R. Taylor
 : http://1perspectives.webs.com
Abraham’s knife (22:1-13) ........................................... 9
 : perspectivesmagazine@gmail.com
 : 1-905-549-3981 “He Promised” by Laura Ware

 : 1-905-549-5021 Nose ring (24:22).......................................................... 12

The Nose Ring by Carolyn Agee

Photo Credits Joseph’s coat of colors (37:3) ................................... 14

All photos were created by Brian Cobbledick. Colors of Prophecy By Monique Berry
Page 3 From the Editor’s Desk

I love meditating on the word ―beginning.‖ It’s a storehouse of power and

possibilities—the start of a new day, the first date, second chances. I’d like to
share my poem of a scene I imagined taking place before the genesis of time.

Mystery of Creation
I fly through a holy environment
and discover the mystery of creation.
The Holy Spirit prepares the vast womb of eternity
abiding in holy silence.
Divine aureate declarations travel through infinite distances
to reach their appointed places.
Then the Word, full of life, brings
linguistic geographies into existence.
Hidden realities explode into visible truth.
Angelic hosts dance through celestial cathedrals
as the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit
sculpt their signatures into the Earth.

This issue showcases new and talented contributors whose stories and poems
began in their imaginations. I recognize the potential of the writers included in
the magazine. Hopefully, you will, too.

Until the next time, keep the ink flowing.

Monique Berry
 nothing
By Brian Cobbledick
Page 4
NONEXISTENT MATTER ~ 1:1

Brian Cobbledick was raised in Regina, Saskatchewan. He was the entrepreneur of the family, always looking for things
to create. His poetry has been published in ―Poetry Canada‖ magazine, in an anthology entitled ―Twilight Musings‖ and
was featured in two DVDs celebrating the 2005 Canada Summer Games. Contact Brian at cb.cobbledick@sasktel.net.
 Did Someone Say Light?
Page 5 By C. Douglas Johnson
I sat there And if He chose me,

LIGHT ~ 1:3
bored to tears, He can do the same for you.
twiddling my thumbs
wondering I can assure you,
when will I have a turn? now that I’ve heard the call,
The heavens and the earth, I’m not going to disappoint.
they already had theirs. For the glory of God,
What about me? they’ll write songs about me:
When would I This little light of mine,
have something meaningful to do? I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine
Then, I’m gonna let it shine*…
it happened.
I heard His melodious voice. People will be employed
God was talking to me. trying to figure me out.
It was as clear Others will know the time
as a cloudless day of day by my brightness.
ringing throughout the sky. Oh, He’ll change my name
At least, that’s what I envision anyway. to Day, but that’s okay.
Everyone will recognize
God spoke Day because of Light.
these words: Oh, what a blessing
“Let there be light.” to be gloriously
Light! and wondrously made.
Did someone say Light?
I almost missed And now that He’s called me,
my call as I sat I’m going to be the best—
wrapped in darkness. the very best Light you’ll ever see.
But I heard it. When Jesus returns,
He said, He’ll acknowledge me
“Let there be light.” and say, “Well done.”
Yes indeed.
Out of all He He’ll say it to me:
could have chosen, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.
He chose me! Come home and take your rest.”
He knew And, again, I’ll answer.
I had an anointing I’ll go home and take my rest
on my life. and leave
He knew this old world
that the world to my brother.
would need
Light—little ol’ me.
*Loes, Harry Dixon. "This Little Light of Mine." 1920.

Dr. C. Douglas Johnson lives in metro Atlanta, GA, with his lovely wife and two kids. While he teaches and researches at Georgia
Gwinnett College by day, he writes poems and creates word search puzzles by night. He plans to pursue research and writing related
to calling and faith at work. Contact him at cdouglasjohnson@yahoo.com.
 Journey of an Ark
By Rebecca R. Taylor
Page 6
Thousands of years ago, God told Noah the sound of the falling rain, which continually
NOAH’S ARK ~ 6:14

to construct me out of gopherwood. People
thought he was crazy. They laughed as Noah
raised me up in dry and hot weather. But he
ignored them; Noah continued to fasten me, one
board at a time. Watching his steadfast
determination to finish what he started helped
raise my belief in Noah. When my construction
was finished, I was able to welcome the
animals—two by two, male and female. I
specifically remember the giraffes. Their long
necks touched each other like they were
hugging. My heart quivered with the love I felt
from the animals. The final boarders were Noah,
his wife, his three sons and their wives.
As I watched, torrents of water cascaded
from the sky covering everything in its path. A
sense of melancholy covered the earth. My job
was to protect my precious cargo from the
dangers of the rising sea. I had to stay afloat so
that once the waters diminished, the animals and
Noah’s family would be able to begin their lives
again This immense sense of responsibility
frightened me, but I knew that I had to stay
strong. I had a duty; I was chosen by God and
knew that I should feel privileged to have been
given such an important assignment.
I wasn’t the only one who was afraid.
Noah wondered why he was the man chosen to
do God’s work, and hoped that he could live up
to his mission. Noah did not want to concern his
wife or children with the burden he carried, but
often I heard him when he would sit in his cabin,
and talk to God, asking for guidance and
support in accomplishing this astronomical task.
Noah taught me to put my faith in God.
The heaviness of the wet air sent cold
chills through me and my head pounded from
Rebecca lives along the St. Francis River in St. Felix-de-Kingsey, Quebec. She enrolled in an online course at
St. Lawrence College to prepare her to be a full-time writer someday. Her recent publications have been
included in Bread n’ Molasses, Grainews, Perspectives Magazine and previous issues of Christian Perspectives.
Contact her at rebecca_taylor2@hotmail.com.
drummed against my face. But I remained strong
in the midst of the stormy seas. I could hear the
animals shuffling, calling out, and moving
within my solid structure. Comfort settled
around me when I heard this active life within
me—it made me journey on, when I was tired.
After feeling the rocking of the sea for a hundred
and fifty days, God commanded a wind to blow.
Slowly, the water that had flooded the earth, left
us and we could see ground again.
Eventually, Noah released one of my
doves; but she returned because she could not
find a dry spot to settle. He waited another week
and this time the dove returned with an olive
branch. Not long after this, Noah removed my
secure covering and opened my mouth so his
family and the animals could go out and
replenish the world. My job was done. With that,
God promised never to flood the earth and
destroy everything on it. As a symbol of his
promise and love, he made a dazzling rainbow
appear in the sky.
It has been many years since I was used,
but I remain on this earth, sitting where Noah
and the animals left me. When heavy rains come,
I can feel my stomach tighten as I remember that
journey so long ago. Watching rainbows always
brings me peace. While my physical structure is
long deteriorated, my spirit grows stronger with
the telling of the tale. In my heart, I am still
strong and could be seaworthy with a bit of
patching. Who knows what life has to bring.
Maybe someday I will journey again, protecting
life in honor of my God.
Page 7
Page 8
 “He Promised”
Page 9 By Laura Ware
How long had I been with my master
Abraham? I know, a long time. Beyond my
memory, we’ve traveled this hot desert moving
from place to place, as the God of my master has
told him.
Many nights I’ve heard the wind howl
outside the tent that my master shelters in. I
wonder why his God has told him to leave the
city we used to live in, to take up this life of
wandering. Not that it matters much to me, since
my purpose is to serve my master wherever we
happen to be.
I trust I serve him well. I’ve sliced into
pomegranates for him, the sweet juice coating my
blade. I’ve cut into tough goat meat, sustenance
for Abraham and his wife Sarah.
Abraham does not neglect me. I’ve known
some knives who have suffered from
maltreatment and neglect from their masters, who
then curse their tool for not working well. My
master treats me well, honing me with a
whetstone and keeping me clean. I love it when he
runs the stone along my edge, making me an even
better tool for him.
Years ago, our lives here took a turn for the
better, and Abraham’s God blessed him and his
wife with a son. When they gave him his name,
Isaac, both Abraham and Sarah laughed. I
laughed as well, caught up in the joy they shared
at this moment.
As time passed, our lives fell into a routine.
Sometimes Isaac was allowed to handle me under
Abraham’s watchful eye. I worried at first, not
wanting this child that brought so much joy to my
master’s life injured. It never happened, to my
relief.
Then one night, my master came into his
tent looking quite disturbed. Sarah tried to
discover what was wrong but he would not speak
of it. All he told her was that he and Isaac were
going to the mountains to offer a sacrifice to his
God. Sarah seemed puzzled as to why this was
ABRAHAM’S KNIFE ~ 22:1-13
such an upsetting prospect but weariness soon
overtook her and she fell asleep.
Abraham lay with his wife but I could see
he was not resting well. His body twisted this way
and that, and he muttered to himself.
Finally, he rose from his bed and came to
where I waited. He picked me up along with the
whetstone and we went outside the tent. Sitting
on a smooth rock in the camp, my master began to
sharpen me.
The light from the brilliant stars above
glinted off my face. Wind sighed as it gently
stirred the sand around us. Again and again the
whetstone stroked me, and I felt myself growing
stronger.
‚He promised,‛ Abraham whispered to
me. ‚He promised my descendents would be
more numerous than the stars above or the grains
of sand below. How can this be when He asks this
of me?‛
I did not know what he spoke of but I
could feel his agitation as he struggled with his
questions. I wished I had the gift of speech so that
I could ask my master what was going on. But I
did not, so I concentrated on making myself
stronger, vowing to help my master in whatever
needed to be done.
The next day Abraham took me along with
Isaac and some servants to cut a bunch of wood.
Once they finished, we traveled towards the area
of Moriah.
For three days I watched my master with
growing concern. He kept stealing glances at his
son, who’d grown into a sturdy young man.
Surely Isaac knew something troubled his father,
but he kept silent, as a respectful son.
When we were close to the mountain,
Abraham told the servants to wait with the
donkey and belongings while he and Isaac went
to sacrifice. He had Isaac carry the wood, which
(Continued on page 10)
 “He Promised” (cont’d)
By Laura Ware
ABRAHAM’S KNIFE ~ 22:1-13
they’d brought. My master carried me and the fire
needed for burning an offering.
Something bothered me as we traveled. I
had been a part of sacrifices before, and I knew
that an animal was a vital part of the ritual. Yet
we had none with us.
Isaac spoke my thoughts for me.
‚Father, we have fire and wood here but
where is the lamb for our burnt offering?‛
The question made Abraham shudder as if
I’d been plunged into his body. But his voice was
calm as he answered, ‚God will provide lamb for
the sacrifice.‛
This answer seemed to satisfy Isaac. I
pondered it. God was going to give us an animal?
It was unusual, to say the least. And why did it
seem to trouble my master?
Finally, Abraham asked Isaac to stop. My
master built an altar from the stones nearby and
then put the wood Isaac had carried on top of it.
He turned to Isaac with tears in his eyes.
‚You know I love you, my son. Only God
is closer to my heart than you.‛
Isaac looked concerned.
‚I do know this, Father. But something lays
on your heart. Please, can I help?‛
Abraham took a deep breath. ‚Isaac, God
has instructed me to offer you as a burnt offering
to Him. I must do this. Can you understand?‛
Isaac’s dark eyes widened. I felt a chill
slide over my blade. Offer Isaac? My master was
going to have me cut his poor son’s throat and
burn him as an offering to his God? No! This
wasn’t possible!
Isaac inhaled sharply. With his voice
trembling, he replied, ‚Do what you must, Father.
I trust you and our God.‛
A look of relief warred with the sorrow in
Abraham’s face. He bound Isaac with ropes and
lay him on top of the wood. He then lifted me up,
looking at me for a moment. A tear fell on my
blade, bitter with salt and grief.
Page 10
How could Abraham’s God ask this? How
could I do this? I pledged to serve my master but
to do this?
Abraham’s shoulders straightened. He lay
a trembling hand on his son’s head, and lowered
me toward the young man’s throat. I saw the
pulse jumping on Isaac’s throat, and knew I was
seconds away from ending it—
‚Abraham! Abraham!‛
My master froze.
‚Here I am!‛ he said, hope in his voice.
‚Do not harm your son.‛ The voice
continued. ‚I know now you fear and love God,
because you were willing to sacrifice your
beloved son.‛
I saw Isaac sag with relief on the wood.
Abraham began to shake, more tears falling on
me. I did not care.
A low rustling got my attention. A ram
was nearby, its horns were caught in a thicket. He
moved towards Isaac again but now I was not
afraid, and gladly bit into the ropes that bound
the young man.
And then I did taste blood, but it wasn’t
the blood of my master’s son. It was the blood of
the ram, the red liquid staining me as it poured
from the animal’s throat. I thanked Abraham’s
God for not making me taste Isaac’s blood. Soon,
the ram burned as an offering to the God who
showed me that He truly was worthy of my
master’s love and devotion.
Laura Ware lives in Sebring, Florida. She
teaches a Ladies Bible Class at her congrega-
tion, the Sebring Parkway Church of Christ.
Her column, ―Laura’s Look,‖ appears weekly
in the Highlands County News Sun. Contact
Laura at bookwormlady@embargmail.com.
Page 11

Promote your book, music, or service

The first person to respond
gets a special advertising rate
for the March 2011 issue!

Email perspectivesmagazine@gmail.com for details

 The Nose Ring
By Carolyn Agee
Page 12
NOSE RING ~ 24:22

Darkness. Stifled air. The sound of muted voices filters through the fibers of this sack.
And still I tumble. Always tumble. Each. Time. The animal. Shifts.
The bilious motion stops. A rough hand lifts me into the twilight.
Glad to be free of the dark. And the pungent smell of the camels.

This is not Canaan with rolling fields and altars to Baal...

This is the crowded plaza of a city well.
Nimble old fingers press me to the skin of a young woman,
soft and supple.
Snap. The black thread keeping her piercing gives way.
I rest secure on a perfectly crafted nostril.

Fresh wind rubs against my soft finish as she runs.

Emerald, azure, flax sweep behind us in a blur.
Still she runs.

We lurch to a halt in front of a rough-hewn house

where we tell of how she was met by a man at the well.
And how her long lost kin would be her husband.
“Nimble
I wonder how long I will stay in this nice hole,
on top of this beautiful nose, old fingers
before they see the absurdity
of this whole enterprise and call it off.
press me
No one seems to mind or find it strange.
They trust in the God of Abraham.

I wonder if she will find him handsome.

to the skin
No one thinks to ask.
I have seen him. He is. of a young
woman”
She sits to eat the succulent dish before us.
Savory herbs wafting upwards,
signaling a meal not cooked
by an old bachelor over a roadside fire.

I wonder if she knows how long a voyage is in store.

How different a place.

I wonder how it is possible to find love with a stranger,

in a strange land, having never seen his face.

She thinks it is. He hopes it is.

Perhaps they're right. Perhaps love is made, not found.

Carolyn Agee is an internationally published poet, living in the Pacific Northwest. She is passionate
about film-making and human rights. She also enjoys experiencing other cultures, cuisines, and
languages.
Page 13
 Colors of Prophecy
By Monique Berry
Page 14
COAT OF COLORS ~ 37:3

Imagine me in your mind’s eye.

In the land of Canaan a robe of importance and

distinction is being woven—a father’s gift to a wise
son. Skilled women in the art of needlework begin
the time-consuming process of weaving costly
multicoloured strips of gold, blue, purple, green,
and red finish the work. I am ready.

As I drape over Joseph’s muscular back, his

colourful destiny flashes through my mind. We are
patterned in the image of a King yet to appear.
Joseph will shepherd his brothers through the
valley of envy and strife into green pastures of
forgiveness and love1. He will dream prophetic
dreams2 where the moon and stars bow to him3.
Joseph will be tried as gold in the fire of persecution
and murderous plots4, and will be sold for money5.
My purple robe will be dipped in blood6 and people
will weep as they believe Joseph to be dead7. In the
end, his humility will see him through to prosperity
and reconciliation. Praise be to the God who is able
to reverse things that are meant for evil to good.

Who would have thought that a robe of such beauty

would instill such hatred and jealousy. At the same
time, who would have thought a King, a man of
love in whom there is no deceit, would be hated by
His own creation. No matter; all things work
together for good to those who love Him, like I do.

Remember me. Search for me. You will find me

threaded throughout the scriptures.

1 Jn 10:11 | 2 Dan 2:46; Joel 2:28 | 3 Phil 2:10 | 4 Mt 2:16;

26:3,4; Mk 3:6 | 5 Mt 26:15 | 6 Jn 19:1 | 7 Mt 28:5-10; Jn 20:6-9
Monique Berry is the founder of Perspectives and Christian Perspectives. Her work has appeared in Searching for
Answers anthology, Personal Journaling, The Sitter’s Companion, and others. In her spare time, she facilitates a critique
workshop and is working on a novel, which she hopes to publish in the spring of 2011. Contact her at
perspectivesmagazine@gmail.com or visit her website at http://monique-berry.webs.com.
Page 15

SUBMISSION CHECKLIST FOR ALL ISSUES OF CHRISTIAN PERSPECTIVES

 Top line reads ―Object: _____‖ [Scripture]

 Must mention ―God,‖ ―Jesus,‖ or ―Holy Spirit,‖ and must praise or glorify God
 Dialogue between other objects, angels, etc.
 Describe the object’s personality (thoughts, fears, doubts, faith) or reactions to daily struggles/events.

MY SHORT STORY
 Inserted complete contact info on manuscript and email
 Included words that engage some, or all, senses: sight, smell, hearing, touch, taste
 Margins are 1.5‖
 Indented paragraphs
 Maximum word count: 1,300
 Mentioned God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit
 Single-spaced lines
 Used real name, not a pseudonym
 Written mostly in active vs passive sentence structures

MY POEM
 Did not capitalize every sentence
 Inserted complete contact info on manuscript and email
 If I have more than one poem, I submitted them separately
 Included words that engage some, or all, senses: sight, smell, hearing, touch, taste
 Mentioned God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit
 Strong word choices
 Used poetry techniques (similes, metaphors, comparisons, onomatopoeia, alliteration, etc.)
 Used proper spacing and punctuation

EMAIL
 Attachments: .doc, .docx, .pdf, .rtf, or inline copy and paste
 How I found/heard about the magazine
 Send submissions to: perspectivesmagazine@gmail.com
 Subject line reads ―Submission: [Object – Scripture reference]‖

Deadlines: September 7th and March 7th. Response: 1-2 weeks. I will reply with personal comments.
Submissions are subject to editing. Rights: First, electronic, six month exclusive rights.
Page 16