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Digger Doug’s Underground Rocks by Apologetics PressDigger Doug’s Underground Rocks by Apologetics Press Songs written and performed by Caleb Colley. Digger Doug’s Underground Rocks is not for worship/devotional use. Join Digger Doug and Iguana Don for a rockin’ treat! Digger Doug’s Underground Rocks, a new music CD from Apologetics Press, is a collection of fun songs about science for kids. Twelve original songs...

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Headed to the Office by Glenn ColleyHeaded to the Office by Glenn Colley Spend just thirteen weeks investing in future elders in the body of Christ. This study, great for guys classes or individual study, is designed to make our young men want to be church leaders and to give them practical tools to develop the characteristics of elders listed in Titus 1 and I Timothy 3. Rich in scripture, sound...

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Pure on Purpose by Cindy and Hannah ColleyPure on Purpose by Cindy and Hannah Colley Designed for girls ages 11 and over, their moms and mentors, this series, together with its study guide makes 13 very practical lessons for girls who want to do life God’s way. Topics range from purity of thought to guarding sexual purity. It’s the lessons we’ve prayed about and worked toward for several years. Recommended...

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Amazing Migrating Animals, Designed by God by Caleb ColleyAmazing Migrating Animals, Designed by God by Caleb... For ages 7-9 Parents and Grandparents, get ahead of the game! Your kids can know the answers before their faith in God is challenged. This selection from Apologetics Press' "Advanced Readers" series explains how animal migration demonstrates God's design in nature. The 32-page book includes vivid images, fun descriptions...

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Picking Melons and Mates by Cindy ColleyPicking Melons and Mates by Cindy Colley Here it is! The children's book that's for toddlers and teens about choosing wisely. It's especially about using godly wisdom when it's time to choose a mate for life. The best thing about this book is that it has a three-week Family Bible Time Guide in the back that any parent can easily follow. The first in a Family Bible...

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The Colley House Rss

Steve Jobs With No Mode Of Communication

Category : Uncategorized

Incredible man, Steve Jobs. From a garage in 1976, he started the Apple Corporation—the undisputed leader in technology innovation. Self described as neither an inventor, a technologist, or an executive type, but even on his resume, as having a “vision thing,” he turned the vision into products we could have only imagined in our wildest sci-fi dreams just thirty years ago. I routinely peck away, communicate, am entertained and produce using those tech tools that were a part of the vision emanating from the garage. Many of you do, too. And, don’t forget– on his hiatus from Apple, he developed Pixar, just as a little sidebar to the page of his life.
Thirty-five years and eight billion dollars beyond the garage, America mourns his passing. Lots of gratitude is involved when we reflect on his accomplishments. What a blessing to live in a country, free of caste systems or government controlled business, in which a dream like this can come to fruition. What an intriguing phenomenon to watch the free enterprise system at work. And just how amazing is it that we have come to a point where we can speak into a phone smaller than a deck of cards and get a helpful response from an electronic map system or a weather radar system? It almost takes my breath.
But the words of Steve Jobs about death are the most profound thing about his life, to me:

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”– Stanford commencement speech 2005

Although, he wasn’t spot-on in his conclusions about the meaning of death, he certainly recognized some of the things death can swallow in the final analysis—pride, fear, failure, expectations. Death, in a world of urgent deadlines, is the ultimate one. It is the universal leveling of the playing field. Steve Jobs is now without technology. There is no means of mass communication, no i-pad, no i-pod, no i-phone, no internet at all. It is just Steve Jobs, all by himself, coming to terms with the One who has limitless wireless capabilities, infinite memory storage and command response from the universe, itself. Only one thing now matters as he reckons with His Creator. That thing cannot be purchased, invented, or devised. But it is the product of vision. It is the true visionary who is hard at work in this life on something that will both outlive her on this planet and travel with her beyond the grave.
I have an idea that, if this earth is still about its spinning business in a thousand years, names like Galileo, Einstein, and Jobs may be in the same chapter in whatever sort of scientific information exchange system has emerged. But, whatever the system might be, all of those men will be without it. They will be conscious, but completely unable to communicate to humanity the stark reality of the only thing that matters. Hmmm, Steve Jobs will be unable to communicate. And I will be and so will you. Just like the rich man in torment, we will be somewhere. We will recognize each other. But we will not have the luxury of communicating with or advising those who still walk the face of the earth (Luke 16: 19-31).
I am thankful that Cindy Colley, as small as she is on the tiny blue dot in the universe that we call earth, can, through the grace of God, personally know the One who made the mind of Steve Jobs. I am thankful that He is aware of and active in my miniscule little sphere of earthly influence. I am thankful that, because of the Extreme Visionary of heaven, I, too, can have a “vision thing.” When the i-technology has long since and repeatedly been replaced, the vision of heaven will be as fresh and new and pristinely up-to-date as the moment Jesus went to prepare it for me (John 14:1-3).

Code Purple!

Category : Uncategorized

Last night is over and I am glad. The sun is shining through this hospital window where I have been waiting in the darkness by Dad’s bedside. It was a night of angst while he experienced pain, nausea, and dizziness…and, every now and then, slept a little. It was a time when I kept thinking about how very much I need to be doing in other places. I have to speak seven times in the next eight days. My laundry at home is piling on up. My husband has eaten up all the food I left prepared for him. My daughter is starting to wonder if we are ever going wedding dress shopping and my son is coming home this weekend. What will he eat? I did keep thinking about these things, especially the lessons I need to prepare, but I did not want to turn on the lights and study, for fear that I would wake the sweet dragon. In truth, it will all be there still. But this one night of recovery after surgery, in this one dark room will never happen again.

It was about 2:30 a.m. when the excitement on this hospital hall occurred. I really don’t get out enough and I did not know what the shouts of “Code purple!” even meant when they started coming from both nurses’ stations. But from the sudden scurry in the hallway, the rolling of equipment past our room, and the intercom confirmation of the code which awakened everyone, I knew what was happening in room 330 could not be good.

I now know that a code purple means someone has stopped breathing. I do not know if the breathing in room 330 resumed. I do know that, while people take their final breaths all over the planet at all hours of the day and night, it gives me pause, in a dark hospital room when the code purple is happening in the room right down the hall. It gives me pause to think about that hospital room when the code occurred in my mother’s room. I think about the crisis and panic and rushing around that happened all around her, while the code had called her from a place of extreme pain to a place of complete and utter peace. The code, in some cases, is really a pretty good thing. I think about the quiet desperation I was feeling through the night and the sudden jerk to reality that made me, all in a moment, much less anxious and much more thankful. I think and wonder about the state of the soul in room 330 as it is likely leaving the tabernacle. I just think.

Mostly I think about the fact that every single one of us will be purple coded one day. There will come a time when I will just run out of breath. I will exhale and forget to inhale again. I will just retire from this job on this planet and while everyone else is rushing around, I will stop rushing…and rest. Code purple is not a bad thing—IF it does mean I can rest. But in order to rest, I must have made a time during this life’s labor to come to Jesus. I must, while heavy-laden with the stresses of living here, be thinking about the release of living there. I must take His yoke and learn of him. He is meek. He is lowly in heart. And it’s only through Him that I can find rest in the hour of my code purple.

You are the Salt…

Category : Uncategorized

It was at an estate sale in small-town, Alabama where I was recently shown the brevity of life and the foolishness of laying up treasures in this place where “moths and rust corrupt” (Matthew 6:19). There must have been a gajillion salt and pepper shakers in this home, lining shelf after shelf: Indian monkeys, flamingoes from Florida, from the basic tin kind you love to have by your stove all the way to Fitz and Floyd Christmas shakers. You would have been hard pressed to think of a common noun for which you could find no related shaker in this house. Of course, each shaker represented a memory to this old couple. Shakers meant places and faces and fun experiences in their aged minds. Most all of them had a story of visiting relatives, Christmas mornings, surfing or bowling or visiting some exotic place. They were just lots and lots of memory handles sitting on shelves with little of practical significance left for the couple, who were now, because of degenerating health, downsizing and moving to the place of their retirement.
And these memory handles now had price stickers on them. Strangers were milling about, picking one up for a moment and then placing it back on the shelf. The prices varied from about two dollars each to about twenty dollars. I purchased some antique milk bottles and Glenn bought a chair. But I kept thinking about all of those salt and pepper-shakers, each one representing a day in the lives of that couple. I thought about what my salt and pepper shaker collection would be like if each set represented a memory for me. It would be large, like theirs, and full of interesting colors and figures. I am blessed.
Knowing that our ladies day this year was themed “Ye Are the Salt of the Earth,” I decided, after making a call back to West Huntsville, to make an offer on 120 pairs of shakers. She was happy to sell that large quantity to me at only 50 cents a pair. I was happy to get them at such a bargain.
Most of all, I was happy to be reminded of some timely lessons about salt-shakers, life’s brevity, salt itself and what’s really important:
  1. Every “treasure” that you purchase in this life will one day belong to another (Ecc. 2:18).
  2. There will come a day when all of our “treasures” will melt with fervent heat (II Pet. 3:10).
  3. The only “collection” you can take with you will be the souls you’ve collected for Him (I Cor. 15:52).
  4. The price of material collections will be reduced as the end of time approaches, whereas the value of those souls remains greater than that of the world’s treasures combined (Mark 8:36).
  5. Your body is merely the salt-shaker. Your soul is the “salt of the earth,” (Matt. 5:13).
  6. Therefore give great attention to the salt, because the shaker, will be on a “shelf” one day in a mausoleum, in an urn, or in some other tomb, having served its purpose and awaiting the resurrection (I Cor. 15:42-44).

He Wouldn’t Have Done It for the World

Category : Bless Your Heart

I can’t begin to fathom the parental pain of knowing you had just accidentally killed your child. Yet that’s what happened on my street this week when a dad accidentally backed over his 8 year-old-son with the lawnmower. The parent’s were then hurrying behind the ambulance that was heading to the hospital with their dying son in tow, when the car in which they were riding was involved in a subsequent accident, sending the young boy’s mom to surgical ICU, where she remains at this writing. The little boy loved sports of all kinds and he excelled at them, was extremely loving toward his big sister who is away at college, and, in general, just endeared himself to all who knew him. I drove past his house a few minutes ago and got a sick feeling in my stomach. I cannot imagine the emotional pain that will ensue in the days following the return of that mother to that house, if and when she does get to come home. It is just unthinkable to this mom. And to consider that daddy, who will have flashbacks and nightmares for long and painful days to come… He will relive the day and think, “If only I had that one moment to replay…” My prayers go up for him as he tries to get on with his life. He wouldn’t have done it for the world.

And yet, that’s what God did. His son died a heinous, bloody death on that hill far away. But it was not an accident.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son… (John 3:16).

For God commended His love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8).

To personalize, but do no damage to this verse, I can put my own name in the blanks (Gal.2:20):

For God so loved Cindy Colley that he gave His only begotten Son…
For God commended His love toward me, in that while I was yet a sinner, Christ died for me.

I can’t wrap my mind around this kind of love. I have sometimes tried, since I don’t know what Christ’s physical appearance was like, to picture the face of my own son on that body on the cross.  I have done this in an attempt to feel, in a small measure, what God must have felt when His Son cried out to him from the cross. What if it were my son crying out to me as I withdrew my assistance at the time of his death? But it’s more than I can bear. I just can’t fathom loving anybody enough to subject Caleb to that kind of excruciating pain and agony. When I attempt to think about allowing my son to be placed on that cross for anyone, much less those who are sinful and unworthy, I am quickly reduced to tears. I just can’t think about that very long. And yet God thought about it for thousands of years. He planned, prophesied, and executed every detail of His own Son’s death for me.

I just couldn’t have done that for the world. But God did.

The Branding

Category : Uncategorized

One afternoon last month I visited a ninety-one year old man in the nursing home.  In the aftermath of many reversals in his lifetime, he lay there, fully conscious and quite able of mind, albeit very hard of hearing. I knew that this now frail body had experienced life at its hardest. The son of a sharecropper, he had learned the value of material things early on. He had experienced emotional loss when his young bride became unfaithful to him and their marriage ended in divorce. I also knew that in this difficult time in his life, he had walked away from the Lord. I knew that a faithful church of God’s people had withdrawn fellowship from him according to the instruction given in First Corinthians five. I knew this man had never been reconciled to this faithful church and I knew that the day when he meets His maker cannot be too many days away. So, in tones that I’m sure all of the staff could hear, I talked with him about his soul. I told him how very simple it would be to make his life right with his family in Christ and with His God. I volunteered to write a note for him and take it to the elders of this church and ask for the forgiveness of the church and for their prayers for him as he prepares to leave this world. Absolutely nothing but his own pride could stand in his way of being certain of His eternity with God.
But his reaction was one of willful stubbornness.  He made me know in no uncertain terms that he was neither humbled nor penitent. I’m confident he will go to his grave having sealed his own doom. He let the reversals of life make him a very bitter person.
The following afternoon, my husband and I visited an eighty-six year old sister in another nursing home. She, too, was widowed several years ago. She has lost her sight. She has no children and only one brother. She had to forfeit all of her familiar surroundings and finally acquiesce to life in one tiny little room in the lonely hall of that home.  She doesn’t make the trek down the hall anymore to the dining room because of her inability to see the food on her plate and because of the tremor in her hands.  She eats quietly in her room, so that she won’t embarrass herself as she clumsily struggles to get the food from her plate to her mouth.  Only a few Sundays before our visit, this sister had made her way down the aisle of the church auditorium. One of our elders’ wives hurried to help her to the front pew. She confessed to the church that sometimes she had allowed her disabilities to keep her from faithful worship. She asked for forgiveness and prayers. Now, in spite of blindness and shaking and having to rearrange meals that she misses in the home, she climbs on that church van every Lord’s Day and faithfully offers her best to the Lord.  Her smile was huge and her eyes still twinkled as she told us how very happy and blessed she is.  She grabbed our hands with fervor as we prayed with her. She made us happy and blessed, too.
How can two children of the same loving Father end their lives so differently?  What is the hardening agent that can cause a man to turn deaf ears on the pleas of those who love him to make things right before death?  What is the tenderizer that opens blind eyes to the beauty of God’s grace even in the darkest hours of life?  Both of my friends are shortly to meet the Lord. In piercing tones my deaf friend will hear the words “Depart from me, you who work iniquity.” My blind friend will see His face with clarity as He ushers her into bliss.

First Timothy 4:2 tells us it is possible for people to have their consciences seared as with a hot iron; a branding iron. When a cow gets the owners brand burned into his hide, he can no longer feel the prick of pain in the branded spot. It is a terrible thing to become so hardened to sin that we no longer feel the prick of the conscience pain that we once felt when we disobeyed. Have you ever thought about how God is going to restore conscience for those who’ve been seared on the last day? It will be a dramatic restoration when they, like the rich man in Luke 16 begin to remember and wish and plead for the chance to go back and undo some things done while they were still on the planet.  I believe the deaf man will hear. He will hear his conscience and long to escape the weeping of his then tenderized heart, but it will be too late.

 
Are you branded in the worst spot of all…your conscience?  Is there any hope of reversal for you before the last day? What a blessing for the branded that we are still on time’s side of eternity.

No Prize for Tact

Category : Uncategorized

One more thing from the funeral of my Aunt Eunice:
Both Allen Webster and Kevin Smith made remarks about a life well-lived.  It was a statement made by my cousin, Sharon Harris, though, that hit a chord with me. Kevin read her statement during his remarks.  Sharon said something like this:
“Mamaw would not have won any prizes for tact or diplomacy. But one thing is for sure. You never left a conversation with her wondering exactly what she meant, particularly if it had to do with the Word of God. You always knew she loved you, but she refused to keep quiet while any of us happily waddled off to hell.”
Well, those are potent words.  If there are those in the family of Eunice Smith who are happily headed to hell, I hope the words leave them bereft of any comfort in sin. In fact, I hope the words made lots of us examine our lives more closely. I know they made this woman have a greater appreciation for plainspoken words of love. I have to write a letter later this week to a sister who has left her family, the Lord and any hope of heaven without repentance. I want to offer hope. I want to encourage. But I’m resolved to not mince words about the seriousness of sin.  Evasiveness  has no place when we speak of eternity.