Final Verdict Quotes

But you know if God should stamp eternity or even judgment on our eyeballs, or if you’d like on the fleshy table of our hearts I am quite convinced we’d be a very, very different tribe of people, God’s people, in the world today. We live too much in time, we’re too earth bound. We see as other men see, we think as other men think. We invest our time as the world invests it. We're supposed to be a different breed of people. I believe that the church of Jesus Christ needs a new revelation of the majesty of God. We’re all going to stand one day, can you imagine it- at the judgment seat of Christ to give an account for the deeds done in the body. This is what- this is the King of kings, and He’s the Judge of judges, and it’s the Tribunal of tribunals, and there’s no court of appeal after it. The verdict is final.

Dearest creature in creation, Study English pronunciation. I will teach you in my verse Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. I will keep you, Suzy, busy, Make your head with heat grow dizzy. Tear in eye, your dress will tear. So shall I! Oh hear my prayer. Just compare heart, beard, and heard, Dies and diet, lord and word, Sword and sward, retain and Britain. (Mind the latter, how it’s written.) Now I surely will not plague you With such words as plaque and ague. But be careful how you speak: Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; Cloven, oven, how and low, Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe. Hear me say, devoid of trickery, Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, Exiles, similes, and reviles; Scholar, vicar, and cigar, Solar, mica, war and far; One, anemone, Balmoral, Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; Gertrude, German, wind and mind, Scene, Melpomene, mankind. Billet does not rhyme with ballet, Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. Blood and flood are not like food, Nor is mould like should and would. Viscous, viscount, load and broad, Toward, to forward, to reward. And your pronunciation’s OK When you correctly say croquet, Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve, Friend and fiend, alive and live. Ivy, privy, famous; clamour And enamour rhyme with hammer. River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb, Doll and roll and some and home. Stranger does not rhyme with anger, Neither does devour with clangour. Souls but foul, haunt but aunt, Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant, Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger, And then singer, ginger, linger, Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge, Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age. Query does not rhyme with very, Nor does fury sound like bury. Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth. Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath. Though the differences seem little, We say actual but victual. Refer does not rhyme with deafer. Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer. Mint, pint, senate and sedate; Dull, bull, and George ate late. Scenic, Arabic, Pacific, Science, conscience, scientific. Liberty, library, heave and heaven, Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven. We say hallowed, but allowed, People, leopard, towed, but vowed. Mark the differences, moreover, Between mover, cover, clover; Leeches, breeches, wise, precise, Chalice, but police and lice; Camel, constable, unstable, Principle, disciple, label. Petal, panel, and canal, Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal. Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair, Senator, spectator, mayor. Tour, but our and succour, four. Gas, alas, and Arkansas. Sea, idea, Korea, area, Psalm, Maria, but malaria. Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean. Doctrine, turpentine, marine. Compare alien with Italian, Dandelion and battalion. Sally with ally, yea, ye, Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key. Say aver, but ever, fever, Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver. Heron, granary, canary. Crevice and device and aerie. Face, but preface, not efface. Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass. Large, but target, gin, give, verging, Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging. Ear, but earn and wear and tear Do not rhyme with here but ere. Seven is right, but so is even, Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen, Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk, Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work. Pronunciation (think of Psyche!) Is a paling stout and spikey? Won’t it make you lose your wits, Writing groats and saying grits? It’s a dark abyss or tunnel: Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale, Islington and Isle of Wight, Housewife, verdict and indict. Finally, which rhymes with enough, Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough? Hiccough has the sound of cup. My advice is to give up!!!

Judge that boy if you must; for debauchery, for objectifying innocence... but before you finalize your verdict, oh innocent reader, I beg you to scan again that last stanza. What you and I overlooked in our cloud of perversion and nasty objectification was the unrestrained joy of a little girl playing dress-up for the very first time.

Your mind is your only judge of truth--and if others dissent your verdict, reality is the final court of appeal. John Galt

[I]n scientific matters it is always experience, and never authority without experience, that gives the final verdict, whether in favour or against.

Different days pass verdict on different men, and only the last day a final verdict on all men, and consequently no day is to be trusted.

When you get what you want in your struggle for self And the world makes you king for a day Just go to the mirror and look at yourself And see what that man has to say. For it isn’t your father, or mother, or wife Whose judgment upon you must pass The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life Is the one staring back from the glass. He’s the fellow to please – never mind all the rest For he’s with you, clear to the end And you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous test If the man in the glass is your friend. You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years And get pats on the back as you pass But your final reward will be heartache and tears If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.

For evil to succeed, all that is necessary is for good men to do nothing.

You and me, we're like magnets from here on out.

Pliny whispers in my ear, “Different days pass verdict on different men and only the last day a final verdict on all men; and consequently no day is to be trusted.”17

Pliny whispers in my ear, 'Different days pass verdict on different men and only the last day a final verdict on all men; and consequently no day is to be trusted.

In the first chapter, for example, when Job first gets all the bad news about the deaths of his children and the loss of his estate, we are told that “Job got up and tore his robe” and then he “fell to the ground” (Job 1:20), but then the author adds, “In all this Job sinned not” (Job 1:22). Here is a man already behaving in a way that many pious Christians would consider at least unseemly or showing a lack of faith. He rips his clothes, falls to the ground, cries out. He does not show any stoical patience. But the biblical text says, “In all this Job sinned not.” By the middle of the book, Job is cursing the day he is born and comes very close to charging God with injustice in his angry questions. And yet God’s final verdict on Job is surprisingly positive. At the end of the book, God turns to Eliphaz, the first of Job’s friends, and says: “I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has. So now take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and sacrifice a burnt offering for yourselves. My servant Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly. You have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.” So Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite did what the Lord told them; and the Lord accepted Job’s prayer (Job 42:7–9). Job’s grief was expressed with powerful emotion and soaring rhetoric. He did not “make nice” with God, praying politely. He was brutally honest about his feelings. And while God did—as we will see later—forcefully call Job to acknowledge his unfathomable wisdom and majesty, nevertheless God ultimately vindicated him. A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break It is not right, therefore, for us to simply say to a person in grief and sorrow that they need to pull themselves together. We should be more gentle and patient with them. And that means we should also be gentle and patient with ourselves. We should not assume that if we are trusting in God we won’t weep, or feel anger, or feel hopeless.

. . . we dedicate ourselves to finding evidence that we're acceptable and worthwhile. Whatever our particular outward style, from self-disparaging or fawning to arrogant or angry, we live as if we were defendants in a trial. The jury is composed of all of the people whose opinions we think are important; they're the ones we've got to convince. Unsettled by our insecurities, we await their judgement. But the jury members never come back with a final verdict. They forever hold us in suspense. Every hour or so, it seems, the foreman of the jury returns with a demand for more evidence. So we try again to win the jury's favor or at least to be found acceptable in their eyes, but nothing we can do will satisfy them once and for all. Why? Because from their individual points of view, THEY are the ones on trial. They are as concerned to have us validate their self-image as we are to have them validate ours. WE sit on THEIR jury. Therefore what they want from us is not evidence that will establish our acceptability but evidence that will establish theirs. They can't give us their final stamp of approval because they never fell completely approved of themselves.

At some point in this course, perhaps even tonight, you will read something difficult, something you only partially understand, and your verdict will be this is stupid. Will I argue when you advance that opinion in class the next day? Why would I do such a useless ting? My time with you in short, only thirty-four weeks of classes, and I will not waste it arguing about the merits of this short story or that poem. Why would I, when all such opinions are subjective, and no final resolution can ever be reached?' Some of the kids - Gloria was one of them - now looked lost, but Pete understood exactly what Mr. Ricker, aka Ricky the Hippie, was talking about... 'Time is the answer," Mr Ricker said on the first day of Pete's sophomore year. He strode back and forth, antique bellbottoms swishing, occasionally waving his arms. "Yes! Time mercilessly culls away the is-stupid from the not-stupid." ... "It will occur for you, young ladies and gentlemen, although I will be in your rear-view mirror by the time it happens. Shall I tell you how it happens? You will read something - perhaps 'Dulce et Decorum Est,' by Wilfred Owen. Shall we use that as an example? Why not?' Then, in a deeper voice that sent chills up Pete's back and tightened his throat, Mr. Ricker cried, " 'Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge...' And son on. Cetra-cetra. Some of you will say, This is stupid." .... 'And yet!" Up went the finger. "Time will pass! Tempus will fugit! Owen's poem may fall away from your mind, in which case your verdict of is-stupid will have turned out to be correct. For you, at least. But for some of you, it will recur. And recur. Each time it does, the steady march of your maturity will deepen its resonance. Each time that poem sneaks back into your mind, it will seem a little less stupid and a little more vital. A little more important. Until it shines, young ladies and gentlemen. Until it shines.

To decide that a man must be definitively punished is to deny him any further opportunity whatsoever to make reparation for his acts... This right to live that coincides with the opportunity for reparation is the natural right of every man, even the worst. The most wretched criminal and the worthiest judge here find themselves side by side, equally miserable and jointly responsible. Without this right, the moral life is strictly impossible. None among us is entitled to despair of a single man, unless it be after his death, which transforms his life into destiny and admits of a final judgment. But to pronounce this final judgment before death, to decree the closing of accounts when the creditor is still alive, is the privilege of no man. On these grounds, at least, he who judges absolutely condemns himself absolutely. ...It is because man is not fundamentally good that no one among us can set himself up as an absolute judge, for no one among us can pretend to absolute innocence. The verdict of capital punishment destroys the only indisputable human community there is, the community in the face of death, and such a judgment can only be legitimated by a truth or a principle that takes its place above all men, beyond the human condition.

He looked closely. It was very disconcerting to have your gay unicorn best friend studying your penis that intensely. Finally, he gave his verdict. “It’s a very nice penis.” “Thank

It Is Never Too Late The last word has not yet been spoken The last sentence has not yet been written, The final verdict is not in. It is never too late To change my mind, My direction, To say no to the past, And yes to the future, To offer remorse, To ask and give forgiveness It is never too late To start over again To feel again To love again To hope again.

No matter how vast your knowledge or how modest, it is your own mind that has to acquire it. It is only with your own knowledge that you can deal. It is only your own knowledge that you can claim to possess or ask others to consider. Your mind is your only judge of truth—and if others dissent from your verdict, reality is the court of final appeal. Nothing but a man’s mind can perform that complex, delicate, crucial process of identification which is thinking. Nothing can direct the process but his own judgment. Nothing can direct his judgment but his moral integrity.

I’d lost patience for novels. I did not want to die in the middle of a novel. I wanted only endings, last lines, goodbyes, and reunions. I wondered how might things end for me; how would it read, the final sentence of my life? The verdict?

When history passes its final verdict on John D. Rockefeller, it may well be that his endowment of research will be recognized as a milestone in the progress of the race. For the first time, science was given its head; longer term experiment on a large scale has been made practicable, and those that undertake are freed from the shadow of financial disaster. Science today owes as much to the rich men of generosity and discernment as the art of the Renaissance owes to the patronage of Popes and Princes. Of these rich men, John D. Rockefeller is the supreme type. Winston Spencer Churchill

I’d seen what evil could do. Evil never gave itself for anyone. It takes what it doesn’t own. Holds your head under the water. Rips your head off your neck and dangles it from the city wall. Evil dominates. Controls. Eradicates. Evil is a sniveling punk, and if you let it inside you then you spew hatred, which is just another name for the poison we drink hoping it’ll hurt someone else.” I glanced around the courtroom at Allie, Catalina, Gabby, Suzy, and finally at the cameras. “But not love. Love rushes in where others won’t. Where the bullets are flying. It stands between. Pours out. Empties itself. It scours the wasteland, returns the pieces that were lost, and it never counts the cost.” Despite a packed house, the room was silent. After a minute, I continued, “Love walks into hell, where I sit in chains, where the verdict is guilty, grabs you by the heart, and says to the warden, ‘Me for him.’” I turned and glanced at my brother. “Sir, we live in an angry, evil world. Where stuff doesn’t always make sense. Where hope seems like something we did when we were kids and the love we cling to slips through our fingers like cold water, but”—I tapped my chest—“nothing that happens here today changes the fact that love heals the shattered places.” I shook my head once. “It’s the only thing that can—” The faces in the courtroom held steady on mine. “It’s the only thing worth fighting for,” I finished, then turned to Bobby. I’d like to think my eyes smiled. “So, no, sir, I don’t hate my brother.

FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover “mistrusted and disliked all three Kennedy brothers. President Johnson and Hoover had mutual fear and hatred for the Kennedys,” wrote the late William Sullivan, for many years an assistant FBI director. Hoover hated Robert Kennedy, who as Attorney General was his boss, and feared John. In turn, the President distrusted Allen Dulles, and eased him out as CIA director after the 1961 Bay of Pigs debacle. When JFK moved to lower the oil depletion allowance, he incurred the displeasure of John McCloy, whose clients’ profits would be trimmed. Hoover, Dulles and McCloy did not belong to the Kennedy fan club. Hoover controlled the field investigation when the president was shot. Dulles and McCloy helped mold the final verdict of the Warren Commission.

your present temper may not mark the healthful pulse of our people. When your enthusiasm has passed, when the emotions of this hour have subsided, we shall find below the storm and passion that calm level of public opinion from which the thoughts of a mighty people are to be measured, and by which their final action will be determined. Not here, in this brilliant circle where fifteen thousand men and women are gathered, is the destiny of the republic to be decreed for the next four years. Not here … but by four millions of Republican firesides, where the thoughtful voters, with wives and children about them, with the calm thoughts inspired by love of home and country, with the history of the past, the hopes of the future, and reverence for the great men who have adorned and blessed our nation in days gone by, burning in their hearts—there God prepares the verdict which will determine the wisdom of our work tonight.33

Hope is more than wishing things will work out. It is resting in the God who holds all things in his wise and powerful hands. We use the word hope in a variety of ways. Sometimes it connotes a wish about something over which we have no control at all. We say, “I sure hope the train comes soon,” or, “I hope it doesn’t rain on the day of the picnic.” These are wishes for things, but we wouldn’t bank on them. The word hope also depicts what we think should happen. We say, “I hope he will choose to be honest this time,” or, “I hope the judge brings down a guilty verdict.” Here hope reveals an internal sense of morality or justice. We also use hope in a motivational sense. We say, “I did this in the hope that it would pay off in the end,” or, “I got married in the hope that he would treat me in marriage the way he treated me in courtship.” All of this is to say that because the word hope is used in a variety of ways, it is important for us to understand how this word is used in Scripture or in its gospel sense. Biblical hope is foundationally more than a faint wish for something. Biblical hope is deeper than moral expectation, although it includes that. Biblical hope is more than a motivation for a choice or action, although it is that as well. So what is biblical hope? It is a confident expectation of a guaranteed result that changes the way you live. Let’s pull this definition apart. First, biblical hope is confident. It is confident because it is not based on your wisdom, faithfulness, or power, but on the awesome power, love, faithfulness, grace, patience, and wisdom of God. Because God is who he is and will never, ever change, hope in him is hope well placed and secure. Hope is also an expectation of a guaranteed result. It is being sure that God will do all that he has planned and promised to do. You see, his promises are only as good as the extent of his rule, but since he rules everything everywhere, I know that resting in the promises of his grace will never leave me empty and embarrassed. I may not understand what is happening and I may not know what is coming around the corner, but I know that God does and that he controls it all. So even when I am confused, I can have hope, because my hope does not rest on my understanding, but on God’s goodness and his rule. Finally, true hope changes the way you live. When you have hope that is guaranteed, you live with confidence and courage that you would otherwise not have. That confidence and courage cause you to make choices of faith that would seem foolish to someone who does not have your hope. If you’re God’s child, you never have to live hopelessly, because hope has invaded your life by grace, and his name is Jesus! For further study and encouragement: Psalm 20

The Klavaret won resoundingly that year, singing in their traditional method: vibrating their stamens at the precise frequency of empathy, allowing the audience to hear one another’s favorite childhood lullabies, thousands upon thousands of them, at which point Suns n’ Roses broke down, mashed up, and remixed that noise into a truly sick beat. Last year, they finally managed to snatch the crown again with their dance craze ‘Let’s Talk About Our Feelings So No One Has to Hurt Inside.’ It would have been a unanimous verdict, except for the Yurtmak, who vomited on their ballot and then put it in the box with a huge, razor-toothed grin.

TUTORED BY MILLIONS OF MINUTES ALONE, Kya thought she knew lonely. A life of staring at the old kitchen table, into empty bedrooms, across endless stretches of sea and grass. No one to share the joy of a found feather or a finished watercolor. Reciting poetry to gulls. But after Jacob closed her cell with the clank of bars, disappeared down the hall, and locked the heavy door with a final thud, a cold silence settled. Waiting for the verdict of her own murder trial brought a loneliness of a different order. The question of whether she lived or died did not surface on her mind, but sank beneath the greater fear of years alone without her marsh. No gulls, no sea in a starless place.

Kellum reminded the jury that special prosecutor Robert Smith, “a gentleman I don’t know,” would have the final argument, and that this was a powerful advantage. He then closed with a dramatic message that the jury’s verdict would have eternal consequences. I want you to think of the future. When your summons comes to cross the Great Divide, and, as you enter your father’s house—a home not made by hands but eternal in the heavens, you can look back to where your father’s feet have trod and see your good record written in the sands of time and, when you go down to your lonely silent tomb to a sleep that knows no dreams, I want you to hold in the palm of your hand a record of service to God and your fellow man. And the only way you can do that is to turn these boys loose.123

When you get what you want in your struggle for self, and the World makes you king for a day; Just go to the mirror and look at yourself, and see what that man has to say. For it isn't your father or mother or wife whose judgment upon you must pass; The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life is the one staring back from the glass. Some people might think you're a straight-shootin' chum and call you a wonderful guy; But the Man in the Glass says you're only a bum if you can't look him straight in the eye. He's the fellow to please -- never mind all the rest! -- for he's with you all the way to the end; And you've already passed your most dangerous test if the guy in the glass is your friend. You may fool the whole World down the pathway of years and get pats on-the-back as you pass; But your final reward will be heartache and tears ... if you've cheated the Man in the Glass !

THE GUY IN THE GLASS —DALE WIMBROW When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf, And the world makes you King for a day, Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that guy has to say. For it isn’t your Father, or Mother or Wife, Whose judgement upon you must pass; The feller whose verdict counts most in your life, Is the guy staring back from the glass. He’s the feller to please, never mind all the rest, For he’s with you clear up to the end, And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test, If the guy in the glass is your friend. You may be like Jack Horner and “chisel” a plum, And think you’re a wonderful guy; But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum If you can’t look him straight in the eye. You may fool the whole world down your pathway of years, And get pats on the back as you pass, But your final reward will be heartache and tears If you’ve cheated the guy in the glass.

Oliver was able to get most of the paint off the floor by using the plastic putty knife, but the carpets and armchair cover did not fare so well: even after all the blotting, they still had large spots of pinkish hues. Everyone crossed their fingers that the color would fade once everything had dried. It was at that point that Papa brought Mama downstairs to examine the fuchsia paint job. The Vanderbeekers gathered around and waited for the verdict. “It’s terrible,” Mama finally said. “We can’t keep it like this.” She exchanged glances with Papa, then murmured, “I think we need to dip into the Fiver Account.” “Not the Fiver Account!” Papa whispered in horror. “What’s the Fiver Account?” Laney asked. She had really good ears. Mama and Papa looked at each other for a long moment; then Mama finally said, “For the past two years, we’ve been putting any five-dollar bills we get into a can we nailed into the corner of our

I struggle with an embarrassing affliction, one that as far as I know doesn’t have a website or support group despite its disabling effects on the lives of those of us who’ve somehow contracted it. I can’t remember exactly when I started noticing the symptoms—it’s just one of those things you learn to live with, I guess. You make adjustments. You hope people don’t notice. The irony, obviously, is having gone into a line of work in which this particular infirmity is most likely to stand out, like being a gimpy tango instructor or an acrophobic flight attendant. The affliction I’m speaking of is moral relativism, and you can imagine the catastrophic effects on a critic’s career if the thing were left to run its course unfettered or I had to rely on my own inner compass alone. To be honest, calling it moral relativism may dignify it too much; it’s more like moral wishy-washiness. Critics are supposed to have deeply felt moral outrage about things, be ready to pronounce on or condemn other people’s foibles and failures at a moment’s notice whenever an editor emails requesting twelve hundred words by the day after tomorrow. The severity of your condemnation is the measure of your intellectual seriousness (especially when it comes to other people’s literary or aesthetic failures, which, for our best critics, register as nothing short of moral turpitude in itself). That’s how critics make their reputations: having take-no-prisoners convictions and expressing them in brutal mots justes. You’d better be right there with that verdict or you’d better just shut the fuck up. But when it comes to moral turpitude and ethical lapses (which happen to be subjects I’ve written on frequently, perversely drawn to the topics likely to expose me at my most irresolute)—it’s like I’m shooting outrage blanks. There I sit, fingers poised on keyboard, one part of me (the ambitious, careerist part) itching to strike, but in my truest soul limply equivocal, particularly when it comes to the many lapses I suspect I’m capable of committing myself, from bad prose to adultery. Every once in a while I succeed in landing a feeble blow or two, but for the most part it’s the limp equivocator who rules the roost—contextualizing, identifying, dithering. And here’s another confession while I’m at it—wow, it feels good to finally come clean about it all. It’s that … once in a while, when I’m feeling especially jellylike, I’ve found myself loitering on the Internet in hopes of—this is embarrassing—cadging a bit of other people’s moral outrage (not exactly in short supply online) concerning whatever subject I’m supposed to be addressing. Sometimes you just need a little shot in the arm, you know? It’s not like I’d crib anyone’s actual sentences (though frankly I have a tough time getting as worked up about plagiarism as other people seem to get—that’s how deep this horrible affliction runs). No, it’s the tranquillity of their moral authority I’m hoping will rub off on me. I confess to having a bit of an online “thing,” for this reason, about New Republic editor-columnist Leon Wieseltier—as everyone knows, one of our leading critical voices and always in high dudgeon about something or other: never fearing to lambaste anyone no matter how far beneath him in the pecking order, never fearing for a moment, when he calls someone out for being preening or self-congratulatory, as he frequently does, that it might be true of himself as well. When I’m in the depths of soft-heartedness, a little dose of Leon is all I need to feel like clambering back on the horse of critical judgment and denouncing someone for something.

..."facts" properly speaking are always and never more than interpretations of the data... the Gospel accounts are themselves such data or, if you like, hard facts. But the events to which the Gospels refer are not themselves "hard facts"; they are facts only in the sense that we interpret the text, together with such other data as we have, to reach a conclusion regarding the events as best we are able. They are facts in the same way that the verdict of a jury establishes the facts of the case, the interpretation of the evidence that results in the verdict delivered. Here it is as well to remember that historical methodology can only produce probabilities, the probability that some event took place in such circumstances being greater or smaller, depending on the quality of the data and the perspective of the historical enquirer. The jury which decides what is beyond reasonable doubt is determining that the probability is sufficiently high for a clear-cut verdict to be delivered. Those who like "certainty" in matters of faith will always find this uncomfortable. But faith is not knowledge of "hard facts"...; it is rather confidence, assurance, trust in the reliability of the data and in the integrity of the interpretations derived from that data... It does seem important to me that those who speak for evangelical Christians grasp this nettle firmly, even if it stings! – it is important for the intellectual integrity of evangelicals. Of course any Christian (and particularly evangelical Christians) will want to get as close as possible to the Jesus who ministered in Galilee in the late 20s of the first century. If, as they believe, God spoke in and through that man, more definitively and finally than at any other time and by any other medium, then of course Christians will want to hear as clearly as possible what he said, and to see as clearly as possible what he did, to come as close as possible to being an eyewitness and earwitness for themselves. If God revealed himself most definitively in the historical particularity of a Galilean Jew in the earliest decades of the Common Era, then naturally those who believe this will want to inquire as closely into the historical particularity and actuality of that life and of Jesus’ mission. The possibility that later faith has in some degree covered over that historical actuality cannot be dismissed as out of the question. So a genuinely critical historical inquiry is necessary if we are to get as close to the historical actuality as possible. Critical here, and this is the point, should not be taken to mean negatively critical, hermeneutical suspicion, dismissal of any material that has overtones of Easter faith. It means, more straightforwardly, a careful scrutiny of all the relevant data to gain as accurate or as historically responsible a picture as possible. In a day when evangelical, and even Christian, is often identified with a strongly right-wing, conservative and even fundamentalist attitude to the Bible, it is important that responsible evangelical scholars defend and advocate such critical historical inquiry and that their work display its positive outcome and benefits. These include believers growing in maturity • to recognize gray areas and questions to which no clear-cut answer can be given (‘we see in a mirror dimly/a poor reflection’), • to discern what really matters and distinguish them from issues that matter little, • and be able to engage in genuine dialogue with those who share or respect a faith inquiring after truth and seeking deeper understanding. In that way we may hope that evangelical (not to mention Christian) can again become a label that men and women of integrity and good will can respect and hope to learn from more than most seem to do today.

At root, what we see is that productive things are things that pass muster at the final judgment — and hence receive the verdict of being “eternally productive.” At the same time, this does not take us off into some spiritual never land, but actually underscores the importance of the things we do every day and knowing how to navigate our lives in this world, because it is in the things we do every day that we serve God and others.

Poverty of individuals is not a final verdict

Do not assume that the poverty of countries is a final verdict

The destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians in 587 BC had been the worst possible disaster, indicating that Israel’s God had abandoned his house, had left the Temple and city to their long-deserved fate. That was the verdict of Ezekiel, and it is echoed by other writers of the period. But that could not be the end of the story. God had promised to come back. He had promised one final great Passover. One day, when he returned, his people would be free forever.

Outside, the wind and rain scribbled foreign letters across the sand, firm and final like a verdict: have spoken. I have said all there is to say. .The dunes surrounded them, a cemetery of hope. Without doubt, this life will kill him. He was to die here, as a man who had never lived.

Robert Maxwell had always yearned to manage a publicly quoted company, not just for the prestige but, more pertinently, to enable him to play with other people’s money. The Maxwell Communication Corporation was that tool, marred though it was for him by a colossal defect: the legal requirement for public accountability.

Villicus Vadum: Soldier Of Fortune by Stewart Stafford I am the ghost of lupine Romulus, Founder of Rome, hear my tale, Of Villicus Vadum - young, driven, Steward to Senator Lucius Flavius. Villicus wanted Flavia, the senator’s daughter, But she was betrothed to Marcus Brutus; A consul of noble and virtuous stock, Villicus conspired to take Flavia's hand. Treachery and deception were his tools, Knavish peacock of Rome's epic stage, Sought to take Flavia from Marcus Brutus, To snatch and cage his treasured gem. Bribed a false soothsayer to trap her, Believing her beloved began with V, Flavia agreed to elope with him to Gaul, With Brutus vowing deadly vengeance. Fleeing to the bosom of Rome's enemy - Vercingetorix, at war with Julius Caesar, Villicus offered to spy on the Senate, While plotting to seize Gaul's throne. Queen Verica also caught his eye, Villicus was captured by Mark Antony, Taken to Caesar's camp as a traitor; Brutus challenged him to a duel. Brutus slashed him but spared his life, They dragged Villicus to Rome in chains, To try him for his now infamous crimes; Cicero in defence, Cato as prosecutor. Cicero argued Villicus acted out of love, And that his ambition merited mercy, Cato wanted death for his wicked threat, Julius Caesar pondered a final verdict. Villicus - pardoned but banished from Rome, Immediate death if he returned to Flavia, Villicus kissed the emperor's foot for naught, Flavia refused to join him in fallen exile. Now learn from this outcast's example, friends, That I, Romulus, warn you to avoid at your peril, Villicus Vadum, the wrath of the gods upon him, Until time ceases, sole spectre of night's edge. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Walking was her only hope. A slender hope, but all she had. So she put one foot in front of the other. And walked.

But if ever there was an argument to be made for the complex, it was sitting before him at this very moment.

If she wanted to win a case for first-degree murder, she would have to present more damning evidence than this. Unfortunately, Dan knew Jazlyn wouldn’t have brought the charges if she didn’t think she could win. And she was usually a good judge of cases.

I don’t want to do anything that might be perceived as overstepping our bounds. Pigs get fat, but hogs get slaughtered.

Moreover he did it without saying a word to anyone, which is perhaps even more uncommon, and even the Saint did not hear about it until after the crime had been committed. “Next time you’re thinking of being rude to me,” said Peter Quentin, on that night of revelation, “please remember that you’re talking to a budding novelist whose work has been compared to Dumas, Tolstoy, Conan Doyle, and others.” Simon Templar choked over his highball. “Only pansies bud,” he said severely. “Novelists fester. Of course, it’s possible to be both.” “I mean it,” insisted Peter seriously. “I was keeping it quiet until I heard the verdict, and I had a letter from the publishers today.” There was no mistaking his earnestness, and the Saint regarded him with affectionate gloom. His vision of the future filled him with overwhelming pessimism. He had seen the fate of other young men—healthy, upright young men who had had a book published. He had seen them tread the downhill path of pink shirts, velvet coats, long hair, quill pens, cocktail parties, and beards, until finally they sank into the awful limbos of Bloomsbury and were no longer visible to the naked eye.

There was much to be seen, though it was a small place, for the ends of the earth's iniquity had gathered in Ogalalla. We wandered through the various gambling houses, drinking moderately, meeting an occasional acquaintance from Texas, and in the course of our rounds landed in the Dew-Drop-In dance hall. Here might be seen the frailty of women in every grade and condition. From girls in their teens, launching out on a life of shame, to the adventuress who had once had youth and beauty in her favor, but was now discarded and ready for the final dose of opium and the coroner's verdict,—all were there in tinsel and paint, practicing a careless exposure of their charms. In a town which has no night, the hours pass rapidly; and before we were aware, midnight was upon us. Returning to the gambling house where we had left Priest, we found him over a hundred dollars winner, and, calling his attention to the hour, persuaded him to cash in and join us. We felt positively rich, as he counted out to each partner his share of the winnings! Straw was missing to receive his, but we knew he could be found on the morrow, and after a round of drinks, we forded the river.

For many years I looked at life like a case at law. It was a series of proofs. When you’re young you prove how brave you are, or smart; then, what a good lover; then, a good father; finally, how wise, or powerful or [whatever.] But underlying it all, I see now, there was a presumption. That one moved…on an upward path toward some elevation, where…God knows what…I would be justified, or even condemned. A verdict anyway. I think now that my disaster really began when I looked up one day…and the bench was empty. No judge in sight. And all that remained was the endless argument with oneself, this pointless litigation of existence before an empty bench…. Which, of course, is another way of saying—despair.20

Augustine's final verdict on the philosophers of Greece and Rome was that, although they had made various mistakes, "nature itself has not permitted them to wander too far from the path of truth" in their judgments about the supreme good (De Civitate Dei 19.1).

Thy kingdom is divided.” Shimon Peres was the architect of the peace plan through which Israel agreed to surrender her land for peace, thus dividing its kingdom. The name of the man responsible for this plan is Peres. The verdict: your kingdom is divided! THE COVENANT WITH DEATH SHALL BE DISANNULLED Isaiah continues saying “this covenant with death will be disannulled, and your agreement with hell shall not stand”. Isaiah reveals this treaty, signed with the forces of hell in the spiritual world, shall not stand. No, this covenant will not bring peace at all, for the other side of this covenant is war. A great war is coming! It will be called World War III before it is over! This is the battle spoken of in Ezekiel 38. Isaiah goes on to say that the critics of this agreement would complain “The bed is too short on which to stretch out, and the blanket is too small to wrap oneself in.” 81 The treaty would be deemed inadequate; it wouldn’t solve the conflict or bring peace, for it was signed with the father of lies. After Rabin was assassinated in 1995, the leaders of the world gathered in Jerusalem at his funeral service. “Each speaker called for the confirming of the Middle East peace accord so that the life of Rabin would not be in vain. They called for an agreement with his grave to continue the peace process. We watched as the world leaders came and confirmed the Middle East peace process. Standing in the front row of Rabin’s funeral were the world leaders and a prince of the Roman empire.” 82 Jerusalem and the Middle East peace process had now been moved onto the center stage of world politics. The death of Rabin gave new meaning to the prophecy regarding the covenant with death. The covenant with the many, the covenant with Rabin, now truly had become the covenant with the grave. The Lord gives a final warning admonishing you; do not mock this prophecy, unless you want the bands which bind you to be made stronger! The prophet also tells us the timing of this prophecy, for it refers to events at the end of the age, for at that time the Lord will bring His judgment upon the entire earth! Your covenant with death shall be

Before whom am I guilty? Myself and my gods. But before God? I would be guilty before God IF God had not disclosed himself as forgiving, taking my place, rendering a verdict of pardon upon me. But upon that IF hinges the force of justification by grace through faith alone. For precisely amid our failure to actualize values we mistakenly imagine as ultimate, God himself continues to perceive us AS IF we were clothed in Christ's own righteousness. The Reformation formula, simul peccator et justus, meant: I am a sinner, deserving condemnation for my idolatry; but from God's point of view I am AT THE SAME TIME pardoned, regarded as if the charge against me were canceled out! the final verdict is thus not the one I give myself or the one that may be given in the courts of law or gossip or peer pressure. Rather, it is what God himself has decided about my situation, how he has regarded and perceived me. Through God's own incomparable initiative, our sin is not remembered against us, even though we may oddly persist in remembering it against ourselves.

Thus, though there is a psychological tendency of accepting the judge’s verdict and reasoning as expert reasoning and tinge of finality adorned to his discretely reasoned judgement, what cannot be forgotten is even judges are human with a fallibility in veins and to err is but human, hence placing  complete dependence on judicial reasoning also would be a folly, but it can be accepted as  a workable hypothesis, in my opinion.Further only concrete strands of tested reasoning and principles drawn from those concrete raison d’être , can be considered as one of the ingredient in concrete law making.

Incidentally, the word pelf in the first line of the poem means “wealth.” When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf, And the world makes you King for a day, Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that guy has to say. For it isn’t your Father, or Mother, or Wife, Who judgement upon you must pass. The feller whose verdict counts most in your life Is the guy staring back from the glass. He’s the feller to please, never mind all the rest, For he’s with you clear up to the end, And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test If the guy in the glass is your friend. You may be like Jack Horner and “chisel” a plum, And think you’re a wonderful guy, But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum If you can’t look him straight in the eye. You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years, And get pats on the back as you pass, But your final reward will be heartaches and tears If you’ve cheated the guy in the glass. © 1934 by Dale Wimbrow (1895–1954) Used by permission.

Alcatraz Liquors is a small store where Sixth is intersected by

sitting on crates and passing a bottle. A cameraman from Channel 7 is shooting footage, and a reporter looks uncomfortable as she adjusts her makeup and studies her notes

system and encouraging our clients’ friends to intimidate witnesses. More people read the Chronicle than the State Bar Journal, and the mayor

heterosexual male who works in this building. Much to the chagrin of the members

Got a broom?” “The one I use for sweeping or the one I ride on?” Aurora tilted her head and pierced him with a maybe sort of accusing glare. So that’s what she assumed he thought of her. Hardly. He wasn’t sure what to think. This was the longest he’d spent in a room with her other than a courtroom, and they didn’t converse much inside. Besides, he never allowed himself to see her as anything but the enemy. Now, she was a target who trusted him to protect her. And that’s exactly what he planned to do. “Sweeping will be fine.” He smirked. “I don’t want to put you out a vehicle.” Jessica R. Patch (2017-01-15T06:00:00+00:00). Final Verdict (Kindle Locations 202-206). Harlequin. Kindle Edition.

Reliance on ourselves is no option in light of the cross. However fantastically marvelous we may think we are, the cross is God’s verdict on us as sinners. It annihilates even the possibility of finally placing our trust in ourselves. Meaning we can know a far greater assurance, anchoring it in firm ground outside ourselves, in Christ. Christians are people who have given up all claims to both our badness and our goodness—and instead gotten him. 

A man willing to sacrifice his life for you is more than worth admiring. He's worth loving.

The greatness of God's mind is revealed in John 3.16 where God decided to love the world once with finality for all the years of eternity and the wonder of that was after the court of heaven had handled the sin of Adam in four stages, the charge, the accusations, the defense and the verdict of condemnation for the entire world the fact that satisfied the justice of God and soon after that God gave His begotten Son and in four stages of His birth. life, death and resurrection He prepared a perfect and complete righteousness which He deposited into the sinners' account in heaven and as soon as that was possible God declared justification for the entire human race and that was a fact that satisfied the mercy of God and whoever now responds by faith he receives justification by faith which is our title Deed for heaven.

I'd lost patience for novels. I did not want to die in the middle of a novel. I wanted only endings, last lines, goodbyes, and reunions. I wonder how mights things end for me; how would it read, the final sentence of my life? The verdict?

I am a poet and Frank said to me that I couldn’t say certain things, but if I put it in a poem?’ He then agreed to recite his poem aloud for the pair: ‘There is a full force hurricane, storming, circulating, swirling, angry, aggressive and vengeful, around the outside of my head. Yet because of beauty and love and thoughts of you, I remain calm in the eye of the hurricane. And in the bonfiring of my dreams, at that final moment, between the laughter and the tears, at the tumult of my fears, with thoughts of beauty and love and you, I am able to stay as calm as the stilled mill pond.’ Concluding the poem, he said it perfectly captured where he was at that precise moment in time. ‘That is from the heart. I am not acting calmly in a hurricane–I am.’ He acknowledged he was a ‘bit worried about herself’, in reference to his partner, Ms Thomas, who was not participating in the interview but who was painting in her studio just a few metres away. ‘She is a bit shook,’ he said. The poetry dominated coverage of the case over the coming days, most likely as intended. The striking photograph taken by Mark Condren, a multiple winner of the prestigious Irish Press Photographer of the Year Award, dominated the front page the following day. Such was the impact of the image it was reproduced several times over the coming weeks for use with various updates on the Paris trial and verdict.

the present, so that he will not eat and drink judgment upon himself. The verb κρίμα usually indicates a guilty verdict (v. 29; cf. v. 34). The believer performs this self-judgment so that he is not finally pronounced guilty of the Lord’s death and thus does not share in the world’s condemnation (v. 32). At every celebration of the Lord’s Supper, the Christian is supposed to ratify and renew his baptismal acceptance of the divine condemnation on sin. In other words, the Lord’s Supper is a proleptic final judgment and marriage supper of the Lamb—a miniature anticipation of the return of Christ and the great wedding feast.

They wanted some kind of verdict on their disappeared sons, husbands, and brothers so they could finally have a measure of peace, one of the women was telling the reporter, so that they could conclusively learn what had happened to the people they loved. Rani had turned to him after the segment was over and told him, shaking her head, that she was grateful for having seen her dead sons’ bodies, for having managed to hold the younger one in her arms for a few seconds, that she didn’t know what she would have done had either of them suddenly gone missing one day, had she been forced to live in uncertainty about whether they were alive or dead. When you didn’t see and hold the body of a dead child you couldn’t understand that they were gone, she told him, and unlike her the relatives of people who’d gone missing were forced as a result to live their lives in a kind of suspended state,

Every few weeks or months a new indictment or plea hits the news, or a leak from the White House by an attention-seeking staffer gives the public some insight into what might be going on behind the scenes. But it’s never enough; nothing ever seems to get resolved. This is the state of America in 2018: we wait for news on the possibility that our president may be beholden to a foreign power and the final verdict never arrives, despite feeling tantalizingly close.

News of the verdicts brought a marked change in Rogers. He became almost obsessive in his desire to discuss the fire on the Morro Castle. Increasingly, he dwelt on how the blaze had been set. Doyle began to keep a record of his assistant’s statements. Finally, he noted: “George knows that I know he set fire to the Morro Castle.” Doyle decided to wait. He knew that what Rogers had told him was not strong enough to obtain a conviction. If questioned, Rogers could always escape by pleading idle boasting, something his police colleagues knew he was capable of. Vincent Doyle told no one of his suspicions. But he continued to question Rogers on every aspect of the Morro Castle disaster, and began to form a picture of Rogers which was remarkably in tune with later psychiatric reports. The strange cat-and-mouse questioning went on until early March 1938. Then, on March 3, a quiet Thursday afternoon, Doyle and Rogers sat down for yet another discussion on the peculiar fate of the Morro Castle. At the end of it Doyle knew “exactly how Rogers set the fire. He told me how to construct an incendiary fountain pen; how it had been placed in the writing-room locker’.” Doyle wondered how best to present his sensational evidence to his superiors. He was still worrying over it next afternoon when he met Rogers outside the police radio department. Rogers seemed pensive and withdrawn. “There’s a package for you,” said Rogers. Doyle nodded and went into the department. Rogers remained just outside the doorway. On the workbench was a package. Doyle unwrapped it and found a heater for a fish tank. There was nothing unusual in that; from time to time Doyle used the department’s facilities to repair electrical equipment for his colleagues. Attached to the fish tank was a typed label: This is a fish-tank heater. Please install the switch in the line cord and see if the unit will work. It should get slightly warm.

Remembering these mute witnesses, I realize why the perpetrators tried to destroy all records of their crimes: More terrible than vengeance, more enduring than the verdicts of men, is the final judgment of history.

Trial began on Friday, July 23, 1875... the jury which was finally selected consisted of eight Mormons, three Gentiles, and one Jack Mormon... When finally the case was closed and the case given to the jury, they could not agree upon a verdict, the eight Mormons all being for acquittal and the other four, all for conviction. The court was obliged to begin all over again and try the case before another jury. Even the most cursory examinations of the court records will show that between the first and second trials of Lee, something happened. When court opened again on September 14, 1876, the whole tone was changed... R.N. Baskin and other non-Mormons insisted that the leaders of the Mormon church had entered into an agreement with District Attorney Howard that Lee might be convicted and pay the death penalty, if the charges against all other suspected persons would be withdrawn. This was to be done by a jury composed only of Mormons, who would bring a verdict of "guilty", if names of other participants were left out of the discussion... This time the trial proceeded with dispatch. Men who had participated, and for almost twenty years had sealed their lips, now came forward to testify... On September 20, the case was given to the all-Mormon jury, who deliberated three and one-half hours and brought in a verdict of "guilty." [Lee was] convicted of murder in the first degree...

In the parking lot, I stared at the slips of paper Dr. Park had handed me. The confirmation of the diagnosis by a second doctor brought with it a grave finality. It was as if the gavel had fallen. And my verdict came with a life sentence. A lifetime of illness without a cure, one which brought isolation, shame, and an endless supply of medication to numb my being. Sure, I had had symptoms of bipolar disorder for as long as I could remember. And looking back now, I could also see symptoms of psychosis at various points in my life. The paranoia, the distorted thinking, the startling images, the occasional voice—they had been there since I was a teenager. However, I never had a name for it. Knowing it was psychosis changed the game completely. It was only a matter of time before I’d be locked up on the psych ward in a hospital gown with the rest of the psychotic people.

[After the Beer Hall Putsch in Munich 1924, Hitler is put on trial and spends 24 days in court] “I ask you: Is what we wanted high treason? “You, my Lords, will not speak the final judgment in this case; that judgment will be up to ‘History,’ the goddess of the highest court, which will speak over our graves and over yours. And when we appear before that court, I know its verdict in advance. That Court will judge us as Germans who wanted the best for their people and their fatherland, who wished to fight and to die. “You may speak your verdict of ‘guilt’ a thousand times over, but ‘History,’ the goddess of a higher truth and a higher court, will one day laughingly tear up the verdict of this court, for she declares us to be innocent!” By the time he was released from prison only ten months later, Adolf Hitler had never been more popular.

In the end, the judges would only deliver those “reasons to be given later” as part of the court’s final verdict in November 1948. The entire Tokyo trial would be conducted without an explanation from the court of its own legitimacy.

venture capital funds, but I thought they were illiquid, long-term investments.

I have given no summing up, no final verdict. Reality knows none.

1. What do you think about the afterlife? 2. Well, how does God decide who goes where when we die? 3. Suggest the answer to them. Since God decides on our final destination through an innocent or guilty verdict, are you guilty right now? Look at the Ten Commandments with them. 4. Since you’re guilty (just like I used to be), do you know the one specific thing God did to offer you a clean sin record and eternal life? 5. Since Jesus died and rose from the dead, and based on that alone, you can be completely forgiven of all your sin. You need to repent of your sin and put your trust in Jesus for the forgiveness of your sin. I had to do it too. Then, you’ll have eternal life, an innocent record with God, and a new heart with new desires. You’ll never be judged for your sin again.

Is Never Too Late The last word has not yet been spoken The last sentence has not yet been written, The final verdict is not in. It is never too late To change my mind, My direction, To say no to the past, And yes to the future, To offer remorse, To ask and give forgiveness It is never too late To start over again To feel again To love again To hope again. It is never too late To overcome despair, To turn sorrow into resolve And pain into purpose. It is never too late to alter my world, Not by magical incantations Or manipulations of the cards Or deciphering the stars. But by opening myself To curative forces buried within, To hidden energies The powers in my interior self. In sickness and in dying, it is never too late Living, I teach, Dying, I teach, How I face pain and fear, Others observe me, children, adults, Students of life and death, Learn from my bearing, my posture, My philosophy. —Rabbi Harold Schulweis In God’s Mirror: Reflections and Essays

Cross and Sampson are walking in to the courthouse to hear the verdict for the case. There are reporters and photographers everywhere, trying to talk to anyone and everyone connected with the case. "Dr. Cross! Dr. Cross, please," one of them called out. I recognized the shrill voice. It belonged to a local TV news anchorwoman. We had to stop. They were behind us, and up ahead. Sampson hummed a little Martha and the Vandellas, "Nowhere to Run." "Dr. Cross, do you feel that your testimony might actually help to get Gary Murphy off the hook for murder one? That you may have inadvertently helped him to get away with murder?" Something finally snapped inside me. "We're just happy to be in the Super Bowl," I said straight-faced into the glare of several minicam lenses. "Alex Cross is going to concentrate on his game. The rest will take care of itself. Alex Cross just thanks Almighty God for the opportunity to play at this level." I leaned in toward the reporter who'd ask the question. "You understand what I'm saying? You're clear now?" Sampson smiled and said, "As for me, I'm still open for lucrative endorsements in the sneaker and the soft-drink categories.

the threat of life, so palpable among us, is a threat that can and will be countered by the Creator who continues the work of governance, order, and sustenance. Creation faith is the summons and invitation to trust the Subject of these verbs, even in the face of day-to-day, palpable incursions of chaos. The testimony of Israel pushes toward a verdict that the One embedded in these doxological statements can be trusted in the midst of any chaos, even that of exile and finally that of death.

No matter how innocent your intentions were, they will derive a guilty variant as the final verdict. That's who they are, that's what they do. Only that the same rules don't apply to themselves.

we hit the tunnel that marks the end of the freeway and dumps out onto the Pacific Coast Highway. I cracked the window open. I always loved the feeling I got when I’d swing out of the tunnel and see and smell the ocean. We followed the PCH as it took us north to Malibu. It was hard for me to go back to the computer when I had the blue Pacific right outside my office window. I finally gave up, lowered the window all the way, and just rode.

I’m not going to try to deal with a murder case, menopause, and breast cancer at the same time.

The instability of a white neighborhood under pressure from the very possibility of integration put the neighborhood into a kind of real estate purgatory. It set off a downward cycle of anticipation, in which worried whites no longer bought homes in white neighborhoods that might one day attract colored residents even if none lived there at the time. Rents and purchase prices were dropped “in a futile attempt to attract white residents,” as Hirsch put it. With prices falling and the neighborhood’s future uncertain, lenders refused to grant mortgages or made them more difficult to obtain. Panicked whites sold at low prices to salvage what equity they had left, giving the homeowners who remained little incentive to invest any further to keep up or improve their properties. Thus many white neighborhoods began declining before colored residents even arrived, Hirsch noted. There emerged a perfect storm of nervous owners, falling prices, vacancies unfillable with white tenants or buyers, and a market of colored buyers who may not have been able to afford the neighborhood at first but now could with prices within their reach. The arrival of colored home buyers was often the final verdict on a neighborhood’s falling property value rather than the cause of it.

Although the 78-year-old director said his statement would be his last word on the subject, it is unlikely to lead to a final public verdict on the case. The evidence and counterclaims are so dramatic and complex that neither Allen, nor his alleged victim, can hope for a resolution. Hollywood will deliver a clear judgment, however, on 2 March when members of the Academy reveal whether they have rewarded Allen's latest, lauded film, Blue Jasmine , with an Oscar.

So, the whole reason you feel “condemned” all the time could simply be your failure to accept and embrace what is written in the Scriptures. On the other hand, there could be a very different reason for the uncomfortable feelings you are experiencing. It could be that the Spirit is dealing with you because of unconfessed, unforsaken sin in your life, but you are mistaking conviction for condemnation. This confusion can be fatal, since conviction is something we must have if we become insensitive to sin. Conviction is good, not bad, something sent from heaven, not manufactured in hell.               If we can continue in sin without conviction, that is a real danger sign. Either our hearts have become so hard that we no longer sense the prodding and reproving of the Spirit, or, worse than that, the Spirit has simply left us alone–an absolutely dreadful prospect. You should thank God when His conviction breaks your heart, fully yielding to the Spirit, since heeding His rebuke always brings life.               Maybe there’s something wrong in your life and you know it. That’s why there is that gnawing pain deep within. Unfortunately, many believers who confuse conviction with condemnation are driven away from the Lord, always feeling rejected and therefore dejected. Other believers, also mistaking conviction for condemnation, react in the opposite way, saying, “That feeling is not from God. I rebuke you, Satan![64] That’s just legalism at its worst.” And so, rather than repent, they run. And this means that neither group responds correctly to the conviction of the Spirit!               What then is the difference between conviction and condemnation? Conviction is like the work of the prosecuting attorney, proving his case against the defendant and exposing his crime.[65] Condemnation is like the judge’s gavel coming down with a final, irreversible verdict of “Guilty!”[66] Conviction says, “You have sinned. Come back to Me!” Condemnation says, “You are guilty. Get away from Me!”               When God convicts the unsaved, He does it to bring them to conversion. As long as they are being convicted, they are not yet hopelessly condemned. When God convicts the saved, He does it to bring His straying saints back to Himself. Conviction for us means that we are still part of the family, since, “If you are not disciplined (and everyone undergoes discipline), then you are illegitimate children and not true sons” (Heb. 12:9). When we are convicted and even chastised by our Father, that is the time to come to Him and confess our sins, finding mercy through the blood of Jesus and receiving grace to turn from sin. But condemnation is an entirely different story. There is no mercy there! It is a place where judgment rules and damnation reigns. It has nothing to do with us!

It is a remarkable ending. On one level the story of the boy and his father is linked to the imperative of rendering a just verdict. Yet by ending within a quotation, Shawcross permits the story to stand outside its legal frame. And though Shawcross presents the act of legal judgment as a potential safeguard against future atrocity, the thrust of his conclusion asks us to look not forward but back. The final imperative that Shawcross places before the court is the duty to remember.

It is a remarkable ending. On one level the story of the boy and his father is linked to the imperative of rendering a just verdict. Yet by ending within a quotation, Shawcross permits the story to stand outside its legal frame. And though Shawcross presents the act of legal judgment as a potential safeguard against future atrocity, the thrust of his conclusion asks us to look not forward but back. The final imperative that Shawcross places before the court is the duty to remember.

When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf, And the world makes you King for a day, Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that guy has to say.   For it isn't your Father, or Mother, or Wife, Whose judgement upon you must pass. The feller whose verdict counts most in your life Is the guy staring back from the glass.   He's the feller to please, never mind all the rest, For he's with you clear up to the end, And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test If the guy in the glass is your friend.   You may be like Jack Horner and "chisel" a plum, And think you're a wonderful guy, But the man in the glass says you're only a bum If you can't look him straight in the eye.   You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years, And get pats on the back as you pass, But your final reward will be heartaches and tears If you've cheated the guy in the glass. Dale Wimbrow