Miracle Maker

We all have areas in our lives that only the Father can heal.  Most all of us have some situation that calls for a divine intervention and healing by the hand of the Miracle Maker.  No matter the smile one might wear, and no matter how well put together a person may appear, there is some need, some where that will only be met by Him.

Sometimes it takes a stirring of the waters to put me in a place where the Father can do His work without my constant interference.  It is then and it is there that I recognize that only He can fix things right and fix things wholly.

“I'm waiting here for my life to change,
When the waters stir You can rearrange me.
Just one touch is all I need, I've nothing much but the wounds I feel,
I've come to find the hand of the miracle man.”

Sometimes all I have to offer are the wounds and the hurts that life seems to love to dole out, yet I come knowing He is all I need. It is His touch on any situation that brings healing and restoration.  It is a place of humble humility, recognizing He is the only source of hope and healing. To know that access to the very throne room is mine, is overwhelming.
I found myself watching the rains fall on the water at the lake today and I thought how His healing rain falls on my soul. It moves things around, rearranging, flooding and bringing life giving water to areas that are starved for the oxygen of His spirit.  And that’s when the healing begins, when He takes control. I go from looking for the hand of the Miracle Man to standing with the faith of my Miracle Maker…

The Miracle Maker

I'm waiting here for my life to change,

When the waters stir You can rearrange me.

Just one touch is all I need,

I've nothing much but the wounds I feel,

I've come to find the hand of the miracle man.

Holy, You are holy,

Who was and is and is to come.

Holy, You are holy,

Saviour, healer,

I'm standing at the feet of the miracle maker.

I'm holding on, with Your life in mine,

Living water's come,

And You've rearranged me.

You are holy, You are holy,

Who was and is and is to come.

Holy, You are holy,

Saviour, healer,

I'm staring in the face of the miracle maker.

Holy, You are holy,

Who was and is and is to come.

Jesus, precious Jesus,

Thank you, Saviour,

I'm walking in the shoes of my miracle maker.

Holy, You are holy,

Who was and is and is to come.

Jesus, precious Jesus,

Thank you, Saviour,

I'm standing with the faith of a miracle maker.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd7TtJiuNqE

Teachable Moments

Pondering life and human nature; at times I fail others. At times others fail me. I’ve given this a bit of thought lately. When the soul is hurt, there is a personal choice to be made. That choice defines whether I will be chiseled away at or if I choose to let a situation be a catalyst to a better me. Hurt can easily turn to anger.  Anger if not guarded, can easily turn into a grudge. Grudges simply do one thing and that is turn into poison for the body, mind and spirit. It’s truly a battlefield in the mind and heart. Not holding a grudge isn’t always the easy choice but it’s the right choice. Hurtful times can become teachable moments. Teachable moments add wisdom,  the kind of wisdom that comes with living life through its ups and downs  I see that more clearly the more the years roll by. When the ugly side of human nature rears its head, I’m reminded to talk to my Father. With no doubt, there isn’t a situation I will ever face, that He didn’t face before me. I find myself asking: “I know there has to be a lesson in here somewhere. What are You trying to teach me?” Lately, I’m certain I’m being reminded how I should treat others. I can take those teachable moments and let it sink in to try to never let my behavior or my words make another have to choose: Anger, or teachable moment?  For myself, I’ll try to look at those who cross my path, who dish out hurt and accept this teachable moment is showing me exactly the type of person I cannot be, if I wish to honor Him.

In the Heart of the Thicket-A Bucket List Moment

Mark another one off my Bucket List. The forest floor below the towering pines offers a padding or bed, if you will, of pine needles so thick that even in thirty degree weather, one will not feel the cold that has firmly gripped the ground. It's a reminder of the days of childhood long since faded off into the mist of adulthood oblivion. Today was that day. 

How dreamy the moment is to lie on this bed of pine needles. The minute my head sank into their cushiony depths, the scent of pine wafted up and became an aroma that not only could put one almost to sleep but teased the nostrils with the tantalizing scent of nature at its purest. A pine thicket has a smell all its own. And oh the sounds one will hear here, as the trees blow gently in the wind, allowing the trunks to sing their own melody. Nature's violin. I've always loved to stop to listen as the trees cross trunks and branches to make their own stanza to the bow and the break of the breeze. This is a dreamy place. To lie on one's back and look up through the swaying canopy of green, the blue of the sky transforms into an image of topaz mixing with emeralds! Maybe I'm a hair on the dramatic side but this is the way my mind sees nature in all her glory.  

I lay there and just tried to absorb it all. It's a place in time, I would like to stop still and just stay there. Stay there and hide from all worries and all care. There's a magical quality to the dimness of the thicket, especially when you look beyond the towering trunks to the outer edges. The hues of color seem to come alive and wake the senses! 

The soul is not the only thing that will find shelter in such a place. If you sit quietly, and long enough, you will see others who find solace in the shelter of the pine thicket. Deer are in abundance here. Some resting, some munching on a patch of grass here and there and some simply meandering about with their fellow deermates. In the trees one can hear the call of the red-bellied woodpeckers. Shortly one will begin to hear the persistent sound of beak on wood as the red-belly searches out her lunch.

It's in the magic of the thicket that you will see the wonder of nature and so much that she has to offer. If you're quiet enough and wait long enough, the rewards of visiting here are simply too much for words. I invite you, find a thicket and let time slow down to a crawl. You might just come out of here feeling like you have a new lease on life.

Fifty Years and More

The following is Taylor's final speech for her speech class. There is no doubt the love and the respect my girl has for her Mimi and Papa has no limits. This is just a glimpse into the heritage these two have sewn into their family.
                     
  Today we are celebrating a bond that two very special people have held together for fifty years. These special people are my grandparents. These two people have been inspirational to many people’s lives. They have been outstanding examples of people who know what it means to live and what it means to love.

 

            I have looked up to these two people my entire life. They have shown me as well as many others what it means to love one another. During their marriage they have continually treated each other with utmost respect and loyalty. These are the ingredients to a successful marriage. Every marriage has its downtimes, then is when we see just how strong a bond between two people is. They have proven that their bond cannot be broken, it can withstand anything. They have stood beside each other through thick and thin. They have shown us that sometimes it is better to fix something when it is broken rather than throwing it away. They have maintained a happy and healthy marriage by doing so.

They have also shown how to love others besides themselves. Anyone who knows them will find that they will do absolutely anything to lend a helping hand. They are the first to show up and the last to leave. They are the type of people who would give the shirt right off of their backs to someone without a second thought. They have been examples of what it means to be selfless.

            Spiritually they continue to grow daily in their beliefs and have made it the rock of their marriage. They stand firm on what they believe and have not let anyone ever stray them. They live solely by what they believe and have proven to me as well as many others that it is not as complicated as it seems. I have full respect for their beliefs for the simple reason that they do not push their beliefs on anyone. They do not need to, what they believe is conveyed within their day to day actions. Anyone that is around them for even a short time will see it.

            My grandparents have always inspired me to become more than I already am. They have always worked hard and fully earned what they have been given. They are always grateful and carry themselves with dignity. They have been perfect examples of what a gentlemen and a lady should be, from how they talk to how they walk, sit, and stand.

            In my honest opinion, I believe these people have lived the most close to perfect lives possible. I look at them as if they hold all of the wisdom in the world. They are true inspiration. How they have lived and carried themselves is why they are who and where they are today. This is for all of their years they have spent together and to the more that will come. 

                                                                                                                                        

You've NOT done it unto Me...

I’m not sure if my lunch lost its flavor when my Father stopped me dead in my tracks or if it was happenstance. It was one of those moments when I realized with certainty I had failed. I had failed my Father, myself and the woman I watched walking down the aisle to the buffet.

I know her. Her smile is one like an angel’s, her eyes like pools of chocolate. The prettiest eyes a human could wish for. See, I went to school for twelve years with her. This particular girl, I will call her Ruth (not her name) was in special ed. Most didn’t seem to befriend her although there may have been people who did. I spoke in passing but I never got to know her. You know, there’s that hierarchal social ladder that is forever in place in school. I hate that ladder, by the way….

Anyone who knows me knows I was always the kid for the underdog and if you were smart you didn’t and still won’t make fun of anyone in my presence that has any kind of disability or oddity about them. I didn’t and don't really care if it's the poor kid being picked on or the kid who was ostracized because no one liked the sound of his laugh or the kid who smelled really bad because he was neglected by parents; make fun…and I can become as mad as a hornet in a flash. I have a heart for people who don’t fit in and sometimes that lands me in trouble.

Forward to the present…The minute I saw her, something stirred in me. There was that little voice that resonates in the quietest of ways… “She’s one of mine. What did you do for her? Why didn’t you be her friend?” The questions hammered against my heart like a beater on a bass drum. I had no answers. Questions kept flooding my mind. “Did she realize we didn’t include her? Did she notice that she was snubbed? Was she lonely? Why did I not be a REAL friend to her?” I felt utterly and completely ashamed. It’s these moments that make me wish the clock could be reversed and have a do-over dial. I have the feeling, me being her friend probably wouldn’t have been any where near as rich of an encounter as having HER be MY friend. Truth is, she may have been perfectly happy and contented, and that still would not excuse my failure to befriend her.

I followed her to the food bar, spoke to her, reminded her of where I knew her from, and told her I wish I had taken the time to know her better in school; very little in comparison to what should have been… There’s much more to this woman than I saw walking the halls of the school. Honestly, I hope the feelings of guilt stay with me for a long time…reminding me, every person counts. Every person deserves to be given a chance to belong.

I’ll look more closely at the people I meet. I don’t want to stand guilty again knowing “When you’ve NOT done it unto the least of these you’ve NOT done it unto Me” -Yahushua.

"Come Play in the Rain With Me"

My cell phone vibrates. On the line is my boy. A sheepish sounding voice raised the question, "Mom, will you come play in the rain with me?" It's dark, it's cold. The first day or I might should say, night of February, and my son, wants me to play in the rain with him. This wasn’t normal. Had I been a prude, had I reasoned why I shouldn't (I've been sick, a lot lately, and I can't seem to feel 100%, ever it seems like) I might have missed one of the best nights of my life...but instead, I gave him an "Alright, Codeman, I'll play in the rain with you."

And then I realized I was smiling. See at fourteen, almost fifteen, my boy isn’t always concerned with doing things with me. His is a world of music, friends and skating. Sometimes it seems hard to get into that world with him. But for a time, it was him, me, the sound of raindrops pelting on our hoods, squishy footsteps, and the sound of his voice, sharing the things that are going on his world. Not a lot needed to be said on my part. This was one of those, “I know I’m here to listen not advise” times. (Well, I didn’t stay totally quiet...lol :)

Growing up is hard. Sometimes I forget, amidst the dirty clothes, the dirty dishes, and the gruff attitude, is my boy, doing his best to find his way. And while he is sorting out the good from the bad, learning to deal with the pain that comes with experiences derived from growing up, learning his life lessons, every now and then, all jumbled together, I get a glimpse a little boy playing with cars in the dirt and a glimpse of the man he is becoming.

So the next time I hear, “Will you come play in the rain with me?” without a second thought, I’ll reach for my raincoat and walk out the door...

SEASONS

Seasons.

I've been thinking a lot about seasons lately. Whether it's because of the unusually wet and cold winter we're having, mixed with so many people making their desire for greener pastures known, or simply because I feel like I'm at a seasonal change in my own life, I'm not completely sure. I'm searching but I'm also trying to be still, be quiet and listen for His direction.

~And he changes the times and the seasons: he removes kings, and sets up kings: he gives wisdom to the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding: (Daniel 2:21 AKJV)

~To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 AKJV)

One thing I am certain, my path has crossed with people that will forever have changed me and anchored into my soul that there are lives waiting; waiting for someone to be the hands and feet of Jesus to them. I rest with certainty that Jesus was clear to Peter when three times He instructed him to "feed my sheep" even to the end of leaving the ninety and nine to search for the "one". The "one" who may be waiting for his or her season; whether a season to receive the planting of seed, a season for bloom or a season for harvest. The "one" who is "one" in the sea of souls that make up The Great Commission.

I know that there are lessons I've learned, and verses that have burned into my heart over and over again through the last month or so. So for now, I will wait and listen for the voice that I've learned to recognize, and trust that I'll be sensitive enough to see when a new season has begun.

Like a Bag in the Wind...

It's been a while, a long while since I put the fingers to the keys and put thoughts to text on here. I have a ton of reading to catch up on too, that's for sure...

Yesterday was eventful, to say the very least. My desire to be creative and capture this world I'm living in led me from one end of the county to the other. But the most vivid part of my day, was dead center, at the intersection of Martha Berry and Turner McCall Blvds.

The wind was blowing a storm in from the west and something caught my eye. At first I thought it was a crow, riding the wind. But after watching for a minute, I realized it was a black, plastic bag. I watched while this bag went up, down, and loopty-looped. There was zero resistance from the bag against the wind, and whatever direction the wind changed to, second by second.

This put me to thinking, how much better off I would be, if I could somehow become as pliable to God's direction in my life, as that bag was to the wind. How much more could He use me, if my will, never battled against His will, if I would change and flow with whatever direction God points me to. Instantaneously, change direction, even if it turns me upside down, backwards and sends me in loops I don't understand.

It may seem silly, to glean a lesson from a bag in the wind, but I figure, if the thought hit my brain that fully, then that bag crossed my path for a reason...

One thing is for certain, I know my Bible tells me "He, has a plan for me, a plan to prosper and not harm, a future and a hope" Jeremiah 29:11 (personal application)...For that plan to be fulfilled, I have to be willing to follow, wherever, He leads, and do, whatever, He says do.

Perserverance in the Face of Adversity

Ferns, the native ones, found deep in the woods, on the bank of a stream or a creek, are quite lovely. They are delicate, but sturdy all at the same time. Warmer weather has definitely arrived when the fronds start to poke up through the soil.

Keith, the kids and I went for a hike to the House of Dreams the other weekend, for my birthday. Berry College had signs posted all around that they had done a controlled burn. Everything was charred and to be quite honest...really ugly. And the smell was for sure not that of a spring forest. While we were walking, though, a spot of green against the black stood out to me. It was a fern, untouched by the fire.

Of course that triggered a thought. The fern, perservered in the face of adversity; the fire. How often do I feel like life throws a flame or has an all out blow-torch session on me? Or is it simply that sometimes, maybe I'm in need of a controlled burn, to keep the forest healthy, and all the underbrush cleaned out? I think that like the fern, I am stronger and healthier mentally and spiritually, when I accept that a good burn, may be just the thing that I need to actually perservere.

Like the fern, I'm sure that life becomes more vibrant when it is every now and then placed against the backdrop of a charred black clean up.

Why do we "Spit Shine" Jesus?

Why do we "Spit Shine" Jesus?

His birth was in a cave, draped in the odor of animals..
Not in a mansion with polished floors and servants...


His ministry played out in the hills and valleys of the region...
Not in a tabernacle with fine adornments and polished programs...


His message of life abundant & life eternal, was simple, and simply spoken...
Not dressed up or pushed on those who came to hear Him...


His last moments were watched as His mother grieved...
Her Son, a King, hanging....between two thieves...


His death was ugly, humiliating and cruel...
Yet it brought Life to every generation...



So I wonder, why, do we, "Spit Shine" Jesus?
The beauty in knowing Him...
Is found in the truth of His life...
And in the story of the Cross...
The emblem of suffering, and shame...
In the blood trail and in the pain..


This question has played over and over in my mind. By putting on layer after layer of polish, and trying so hard to get that perfect Christian "look"...we "Spit Shine" away the beauty of being a Christian. What's attractive to our eyes, in most cases is not at all the view from Heaven's eyes. Something inside is crying out to take it all back to the simplicity of just knowing Him and spending time with Him, resulting in hopefully becoming more like Him, drawing others to Him...

Through the Eyes of a Prodigal

As parents, it's our job to raise our kids and teach them the ways of life, the foundations of faith, and so many other things. It seems to me lately, though that I'm learning a lot through listening to my children.

I have one child whose faith is strong, although like anyone else she has her share of struggles, and through her I'm learning that many times I need to close my mouth and listen more (that one's a little difficult for me.) Then,I have one child who, at this point, well I just call him my prodigal...my handsome blue-eyed prodigal. It is through his eyes that I am learning just how so many unbelievers view those of us who profess to be Christians. See, my boy point blank asked me, "Why would I want to be a Christian? I treat people better than most Christians do." And the sad thing is, I had no answer. I simply told him, "Son, I'm proud of you, and I'm proud of the character that you've shown." That was a startling revelation to me as to how he's looking at things and why he's made some of the decisions he's made. See, he didn't arrive to where he is overnight. There was a combination of life circumstances, combined with personal choices that created the disbelief. No amount of scripture quoting and preaching from me or anyone else is going to change it. But seeing Jesus...Seeing his arms really reaching and His heart really loving through His people...That will, yes it will, one day, along with a move of the Holy Spirit; that will captivate his heart. His watchful eye is stopping first, on my doorstep. I am daily having to examine myself, and work on shortcomings that in themselves may be a hindrance to bringing my boy back home. I worry every time I get frustrated and lose my temper, or come across harsher than I mean to that I'm pushing him further and further away...so I pray for patience and I pray for longsuffering and wisdom in punishment and setting limits.

If it weren't for this stage in his life, maybe I never would have been convicted of some of the things I'm feeling such a strong conviction on now. So yes, my prodigal is growing my relationship with my Father and he doesn't even have a clue. You see, it is through him that I'm realizing how short I'm falling. It is through him, that I see how important it is for those of us who call ourselves followers of Jesus...to try to act more like Jesus and have more of a servant's heart, a heart of compassion.

Jesus said to them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

Sometimes I believe I get so busy being a "Christian" that maybe I forget I was once a sinner, unforgiven myself.

Punched to Rise

Bread. It's not an item that just you just throw together any old way and expect to just happen. I was making a loaf this afternoon (and yes, I cheat. I use my bread machine for the mixing the dough/rising and punching part.) But still, I couldn't just say, "Oh here's some flour, eggs and let's throw in some yeast and a few other things" and expect to have something I can put on the dinner table and it be edible. No, there's a process. Mix the ingredients in a particular order...put it in an environment condusive to the yeast making the dough rise, punch it down, repeat and repeat until finally the dough goes into the bread pan, then into the oven at the right temperature and for the perfect amount of time. The final result? A golden brown...Crispy on the outside and white fluffy on the inside...loaf of bread. A loaf that's steaming hot and ready to tear into and be gobbled up by some hungry folks. Around here...that happens really quickly :).

People are kind of the same way. For us to reach our full potential, a lot of things have to come together, in the right order and in the right time; a lot of good things and a lot of not so good things. Many times we rise and get punched back down, only to rise and be punched back down, again and again. Until finally, we become a product that, when sent through the fire, we come out useful and ready to serve the purpose God intended for our lives. But that punching down part isn't too much fun. Right? Well, it's not to me and I have a tendency to want to run and hide. But I guess that's where the trials and the low spots in our lives serve to create in us a person more usable, more able to "rise" to the purpose for which we were created. Plus, we never know what we're going to be when we grow up. At least not in God, because the day I stop growing will, I figure, be the day that I give up the ghost. So this is really a life-long process. With that being said then, the next time I feel like I'm being punched down...I'll try to make myself remember this thought...and know, I will be better for it, in the end.

Where the LIghthouse Sits...

It's late at night, and I'm almost asleep. And here comes Taylor all bright eyed and bushy-tailed ready to share her weekend trompabouts. I love it when she does this...It's time that I treasure! Her re-telling of her adventures leaves me in stitches most of the time and last night was no different...tales of muddin in the cold...getting stuck...looking like a nut...funny things her friends said and did...memories she is making.

The conversation shifts and she started to talk about God, different ministries and other things faith related. I am so thankful she is growing. I see God moving in her and her faith is rekindled. Some of the things she shares leaves me sitting there with my mouth hanging open, jaw on the floor. She's gaining insight and wisdom...my little girl is growing into a woman of God. Okay, :) let's get back to the story...So yesterday, she and her friends went to Connect Rome's first service in the mall. I wasn't sure about it but she really wanted to go so I caved (as usual) and I'm glad I did. I had no idea my kid could re-count an entire sermon lol. That was a WOAH! moment. I listened to her talk about the service... "Josh sat on a stool...the same stool probly from six years ago...I think it had holes in it." She talked about the layout of the place and how during worship, no one was watching anyone else, no one seemed to be judging and that there were all different kinds of worship. But there was no pressure. She shared the passion she witnessed from the people who led worship and the passion with which Josh spoke to the people who had come to listen...or "see" what the "church in the mall" was going to be like. Taylor said she and her buddies were in the smoking section...I nearly fainted. I was thinking "What have I done letting her go there??" Taylor was like "hahahaha Mom...NO...we sat where the smoking section was when this used to be a restaurant" I breathed a sigh of relief.

The layout seemed different to me but at the same time I was impressed. I've learned to stop being so closed-minded...yes, miraculously that is me talking! Haha! So I got to thinking. God is everywhere. He is omni-present. He's in the big churches, the little churches and yes He is in the church at the mall. God will visit where-ever He is welcome. Oh...He's where He is not welcome too, we just fail to connect with Him (I just had to say that). Then my thoughts took another direction. I'm sure some people will criticize the what and the how things are done. But think about it. When Jesus walked on this earth, how did He teach His followers? Oh yes, there were temples and synagogues and many people attended them and that was probably the "accepted/normal" way of going to worship. But think about Jesus. What did He do? He went to where the people who needed Him the most were. I had a picture fleet through my mind for a minute of Josh sitting on his stool...telling those young people his story-sermon (it was a thinker-thumper)...and then I pictured Jesus sitting on a rock, or on the ground, surrounded by His followers and people who had come to "see" what was going on with this Man who was doing things in such a different way than what was the norm for that time and place. And while He was sitting there He taught those who were listening to Him through His story-sermons/parables. My Bible paints a picture of a Man who caused quite a stir in the region, a Man who walked the hills and the valleys, in search of the ones who didn't frequent the temples. So I started thinking...maybe this Josh guy is onto something...maybe having church in the mall...where people coming in the front entrance will hear the worship and the sermon, maybe having church in the mall, where the Friday night service will be in The Nest...and kids who come in the cafe side for coffee...will hear the message of Christ from the other side...maybe just maybe...Josh is on to something there. Have you been to the mall on Friday and Saturday nights? Have you seen the kids who now may have seeds sewn into their lives? Some of these young people probably couldn't be tied and drug into a conventional church...ever. Now they may see, though, a glimpse of Jesus thru the hands of His people, whose arms are reaching...

I hope that people will see the potential for this ministry. Most would probably support this outreach if it were in a foreign country, or if a missionary was doing the same thing. Our country can almost be compared to third world countries with the amount of pagan religions and numbers of unbelievers that walk the streets and alleys. The whole purpose is to be a lighthouse...I don't think it matters so much what cliff or shore you are sitting on as long as the foundation is the Rock...God...So I guess what I hope is that maybe we might see beyond what we think is the "right" way to do things and know that there are all kinds of ministry out there...just as we know that all "kinds" of people need God.

All I know is, I will pray for Josh to have wisdom in his sermons, and that his passion to reach people will grow and multiply and bear fruit. As long as what he is preaching is Biblically sound...whatever means he uses to reach the lost...I pray is a success.

I am a C. I am a Ch...I am a CHRISTIAN

Pondering, thinking, examining, changing. I've done a lot of reading online with postings and such and I've done a lot of self examination lately. I've come to the conclusion that even saying the words "I'm a Christian" so often times short-changes God. To even say the word...should bring recognition that thoughts and actions should pattern after Christ. It's not a title and it's not a religion. It's a way of life. To really begin to understand that, I find myself drawn to the four Gospels. Who is this Man? What was He like? How did He conduct Himself? How did He treat others? And what does He want to see in me? The man that I am learning to know is so much different than what I see in myself so many times. Different than what I see in so many who call themselves Christians. This man, this Christ, was gentle. This man was genuine. This man was humble and this man was kind. When He was rejected or faced disbelief... He questioned "Who do you believe I am?" and then He went about His Father's will. He didn't judge, He forgave...John 8:7--"But when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her." Are we guilty of judging? Are we guilty of pointing fingers at someone who doesn't share our faith or respond to us in a way we like? I'm thinking that when I point at someone...anyone...there are three fingers pointing back at me. It's not often that my path crosses that of someone who doesn't believe. I just pray that when it does, I don't squander it away with a haughty attitude or a judgemental look...but that I will react and conduct myself in a way that someone might just see a glimpse of Christ in me. It's a process, painful at times, for God to get me in a position to where I'm on my knees with my mouth shut, silent and listening to the stillness of His voice.




I read something the other day that stuck with me.

"JUDGE NOT"

I was shocked, confused, bewildered
as I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
by the lights or its decor.
It was the folks in Heaven
who made me sputter and gasp--
the thieves, the liars, the sinners,
the alcoholics, the trash.
There stood the kid from seventh grade
who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
who never said anything nice.
Herb, who I always thought
was rotting away in hell,
was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
looking incredibly well.
I nudged Jesus, "What's the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here?
God must've made a mistake.
And why's everyone so quiet,
so somber? Give me a clue."
"Hush, child," said He. "They're all in shock...

No one thought they'd see you."

"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future"