<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456</id><updated>2011-06-08T15:42:23.053-04:00</updated><title type='text'>urban appalachain postmodern redneck</title><subtitle type='html'>what's a postmodern redneck?  someone who can talk about social trends while standing in line for the monster truck pulls</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106934861274530463</id><published>2003-11-20T12:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-20T12:17:18.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nesting</title><summary type='text'>Last night I received news that friends of ours, members of our launch team, are expecting their first baby! Exciting stuff. They are a great couple, and will be great parents. I have been thinking about babies lately. I have four children. So I have lived with a pregnant woman 3 out of the past 11 years. For those of you have not spent much time around pregnant women, there is a phenomena that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106934861274530463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106934861274530463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106934861274530463' title='Nesting'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106779224960386890</id><published>2003-11-02T11:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-02T11:57:27.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Amazing Mr. Plastic</title><summary type='text'>When I was a kid, my next door neighbor was big into comic books.  I lacked the necessary discretionary income to be involved in the hobby to the depth of my collegue.  So, the obvious solution to the dilema was to spend a lot of time at his house, and we would open up the vault, or file cabinet as some call it, of comic books and sit and read while eating Little Debbie cakes, drinking RC's and </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106779224960386890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106779224960386890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106779224960386890' title='The Amazing Mr. Plastic'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106493189591589542</id><published>2003-09-30T10:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-06T11:56:05.433-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagining the Next Cathedrals</title><summary type='text'>Found this on the web today, thought I would post it here for you guys to see.  I am in the middle of renovating 5 offices in an urban 1930's mall into a worship space, so I found this interesting.  Oh, the ideas . . . now if I can just figure out how to pay for them.Imagining the Next CathedralsBy Adam D. Bradley  Posted Wednesday, June 25th, 2003Each era of the church has had its own </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106493189591589542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106493189591589542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106493189591589542' title='Imagining the Next Cathedrals'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106484940019409300</id><published>2003-09-29T11:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-12-16T14:35:39.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye Johnny</title><summary type='text'>I know this is late, but I wanted to pay tribute to the great Johnny Cash.  As you probably know, Johnny left us this month and is now playing in the band in heaven.  I just wonder if Jesus is saying "Hey John, could you play "Boy Named Sue" one more time?"I grew up listening to Johnny Cash, it was on the fringe for my strict fundamentalist upbringing, but hey, Johnny sang gospel too.  Some </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106484940019409300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106484940019409300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106484940019409300' title='Goodbye Johnny'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106484788644450824</id><published>2003-09-29T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-29T11:04:46.533-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have a New Love, Her Name is Taylor . . .</title><summary type='text'>OK, guitar heads, pay attention.  I have an announcement to make.After 20 years of playing $200 guitars (Sigma DR-3, Fender Bullit, Ibanez,) I have bit the bullet and stepped up to the big leagues.I now can be seen at all times hugging my new TAYLOR 514ce.  I can not tell you how excited I am. Remember that movie, "The Christmas Story" about the little kid who is trying to figure out how to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106484788644450824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106484788644450824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106484788644450824' title='I Have a New Love, Her Name is Taylor . . .'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106484665398622155</id><published>2003-09-29T10:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-29T10:44:13.690-04:00</updated><title type='text'>September Morn</title><summary type='text'>September Morn, we la la la la la la la la laaaaaa . . .Neil Diamond has some of the fewest counts of words in his songs, and I still cant remember them.September is always the fastest month to me.  Maybe its the quick change in weather, maybe its back to school, I dont know why.  Maybe it's because its one of my favorite times.Sorry I havent been blogging lately, I have been remodeling my </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106484665398622155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106484665398622155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106484665398622155' title='September Morn'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106264055043199481</id><published>2003-09-03T21:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T21:56:42.063-04:00</updated><title type='text'>C is for Cookie, That's Good Enough for Me </title><summary type='text'>My wife just came in and said "If I weren't so tired, I would make chocolate chip cookies."  How cruel is that??  No one should ever bring up the subject of chocolate chip cookies without being in the process of carrying me a plate full and a tall glass of milk.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106264055043199481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106264055043199481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106264055043199481' title='C is for Cookie, That&apos;s Good Enough for Me '/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106264031954910281</id><published>2003-09-03T21:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T21:51:59.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Genetics and Toyotas</title><summary type='text'>Are we genetically predetermined, or are we a product of our environment?  Either way, all I know is that I live in WV, it's getting close to deer season and I have an irresistable urge to buy a 4x4 truck.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106264031954910281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106264031954910281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106264031954910281' title='Genetics and Toyotas'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106260688179775807</id><published>2003-09-03T12:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T12:34:41.796-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><summary type='text'>Just an update about our new church plant.  Things are gearing up.  After a really frustrating spring and summer, we are seeing a real turnaround in the fall.  Not that things are really busting loose, but still . . .We are up to a group of about 17 including the kids, and they are quality people.  We are finally putting together a decent launch team, and they are from diverse backgrounds.  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106260688179775807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106260688179775807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106260688179775807' title='Update'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106156473380621449</id><published>2003-08-22T11:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-22T11:08:16.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Healing</title><summary type='text'>Sick?  Body not working the way that it should?  While I think most of those guys on TV, slapping people on the head and yelling "in the name of Jesus" are usually pretty nuts, I do think God is still in the business of fixing up these old mortal bodies.  Interested?  Check out this article . . .Divine Healing: An Alliance Position PaperChrist for the BodyThe Christian and Missionary </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106156473380621449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106156473380621449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106156473380621449' title='Healing'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106148987049646644</id><published>2003-08-21T14:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T14:20:11.860-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feed the Dog</title><summary type='text'>Old story- Two old guys, Smith and Jones had dogs. They argued over the fence about whose dog was the best fighter.  This went on for close to a year, and finally the two old guys decided to let the dogs fight.  They knew they would be in trouble if caught.  Probably face charges for pit fighting, cruelty to animals, etc.  But they didn't care, pride was on the line.So they agreed on a date, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106148987049646644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106148987049646644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106148987049646644' title='Feed the Dog'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106078980270594335</id><published>2003-08-13T11:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T11:56:02.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Somebody!</title><summary type='text'>Remember that great movie of historical importance, "The Jerk"?  While I too grew up the son of a poor black sharecropper, (?), I haven't always identified with the main character.  Until today.Remember when Steve Martin goes out on his own, and gets his name published in the phone book?  Martin goes ballistic yelling "Look at me! I'm somebody!"I just felt the same way.  Many times if I am </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106078980270594335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106078980270594335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106078980270594335' title='I&apos;m Somebody!'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106078648168233603</id><published>2003-08-13T10:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T10:59:28.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Court Quote</title><summary type='text'>This is a quote from a court transcript:Q: "Well, sir, judging from your answer on how your reacted to the emergency call, it sounds like you are a man of intelligence and good judgement."A: "Thank you, and if I weren't under oath, I would return the compliment."</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106078648168233603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106078648168233603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106078648168233603' title='Court Quote'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-106011610985134086</id><published>2003-08-05T16:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-05T16:41:49.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wild At Heart</title><summary type='text'>Has anyone else out there read this book?  Personally, I loved it.  Basic premise, is that most men don't live from their heart.  The live out what everyone tells them they should do.  That Christians are bored, even though they do everything they are taught in church.John Eldredge says there are three things in the heart of every man;1.  An adventure to live2.  A battle to fight3.  A beauty</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106011610985134086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/106011610985134086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106011610985134086' title='Wild At Heart'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105974968953341278</id><published>2003-08-01T10:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-05T16:31:08.266-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back</title><summary type='text'>Just got back from Chicago, from an incredibly boring conference.  5 days of sitting around listening to people tell me things I already knew.  So anyway, I am back on the job.  Have no fear, all you who visit the blog, (mom) I am back on the job.Apparently, Haloscan switched servers, which meant my comments have been on hold for a while, and didnt work at all there for a spell.  But all seems </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105974968953341278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105974968953341278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#105974968953341278' title='I&apos;m Back'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105846828105129652</id><published>2003-07-17T14:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-17T15:06:00.096-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dillon and Sailboats</title><summary type='text'>Listening to Dillon today.  So I'm mellow, and there is an undercurrent of discontent in the office today.  So I'll be brief.The heart.  Its the essence of who we are.  Some are interested in keeping it safe.  Some let it all hang out.  I fluxuate.  While I have had my shot at extreme sports, I dont do them often.  Or well.But I could watch them all day.  Something about the risk, the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105846828105129652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105846828105129652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105846828105129652' title='Dillon and Sailboats'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105837411623946232</id><published>2003-07-16T12:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-17T14:59:05.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'>XXX Rated</title><summary type='text'>This is one of the hottest things I've ever read.  Thinking about the heart this week, and the wisest dude ever was no stranger to the heart.  Check out the playful erotica in Song of Solomon 5:2-6.  This is Solomon's bride speaking, and quoting Solomon in the middle of the passage.2-I slept, but my heart was awake.  (What a great line.  I have to use that one.)     Listen! My lover is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105837411623946232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105837411623946232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105837411623946232' title='XXX Rated'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105832123351330104</id><published>2003-07-15T22:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-15T22:07:13.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Please Pass the Toilet Paper</title><summary type='text'>In case you haven't figured out, Im one of those religious guys.  I like to talk about the Bible and about life and how it all works.  I am a pastor in a new church that is starting in Huntington WV.  I also have a wife and four kids.   I have a lot of hobbies, all of which I pretty much stink at.  It takes time, energy, money, location, opportunity, etc. to be good at something.  So one of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105832123351330104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105832123351330104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105832123351330104' title='Please Pass the Toilet Paper'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105830085226744011</id><published>2003-07-15T16:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-15T16:31:27.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Heart</title><summary type='text'>Boil it all down, our experience is about the heart.  Passionate, wild, love making stuff.  When Jesus was asked "What is the greatest commandment?" , he cuts through everything and said "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.  And then love other people like that too, " (Matthew 22:37-39, my paraphrase 'cause my Bible is at the house.) Notice that he </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105830085226744011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105830085226744011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105830085226744011' title='The Heart'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105820798871916274</id><published>2003-07-14T14:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-14T14:39:48.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big One</title><summary type='text'>The age old question. The big one.Gotta tackle it.  It's what we have been trying to figure out for ever.  Ready?"WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE?" or, being from a more theological background, you may phrase it like"WHAT IS GOD'S PURPOSE FOR ME?"Good question.  Either one of them.  Boy, if the ecclesia has ever goofed on a subject, this might be it.  Understandably so.  If Satan ever needed </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105820798871916274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105820798871916274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105820798871916274' title='The Big One'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105786987090545717</id><published>2003-07-10T16:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-10T16:46:09.850-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Trees are Shaking</title><summary type='text'>Trees are shaking.  That's an old mountain saying that just means "Something's happening."  In the past two days, I have been running into people interested in the church and what is going on.  I just interviewed with the Herald-Dispatch newspaper.  I have just met a couple of influential people in town who are going to be advocates.  Could it be that God really answers our prayers?I mean </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105786987090545717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105786987090545717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105786987090545717' title='Trees are Shaking'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5558456.post-105769758449469849</id><published>2003-07-08T16:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T19:07:00.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Crazy Night</title><summary type='text'>Ever have one of those nights when you feel like an idiot, but you don't care, you're having fun anyway? I mean besides your last date.Last night, God had me go out on a prayer walk around my town of Huntington. This is a pretty common thing for me. But I never had one like this one.I was reading a book last night, "Intercessory Prayer" by Dutch Sheets. Dutch is discussing the value of prophetic </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105769758449469849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5558456/posts/default/105769758449469849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scottelkins.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105769758449469849' title='A Crazy Night'/><author><name>Scott</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17850179485007720687</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
