Draw Me

Photography by Mid Stutsman  http://midspix.wordpress.com/

Draw Me


Draw me through my tears
  Embrace me in my fears
In the stillness of the night
  Draw me

Draw me through my doubt
  Use truth to draw me out
When lies of the world deceive
  Draw me

Draw me into Your joy
  Use praises to employ
Your mercy and Your grace
  Draw me

Draw me to new heights
  Lift me with Your might
To Your ways higher than mine
  Draw me

Draw me through the skies
  To Your glorious home on high
Forever in Your light
  Draw me

© Nancy K. Sullivan    
    February 4, 2014

The Hill of Beran

It was almost like the Garden of Eden, this little valley where they lived. The petals of each bloom were succulent in appearance, filled with fragrant oils and life. The Clan K of four tended their plants and marveled at how the God of the universe had blessed them.

As the day faded into another beautiful evening, the mother spoke.

“You know,” Elle K said as her eyes embraced the fields and moved upward, “the top of the Hill of Beran looks to be a lonely place. No one ever goes there. The climb is so steep, and there is no reward awaiting. Just a plain crest surrounded by thin branches and trunks of trees that have lost their desire to grow. We should take seeds from the beauty we have sown here to the top of the Hill of Beran and plant them.”

The Clan K was blessed with two fine young men who were always eager to help tend the fertile Valley of Florae, but the thought of trudging up to    place where no one ever went just to share some of their precious flower seeds brought many grumbles.

“Now, boys. Don’t be too quick to think badly of your mother’s idea. She rarely requests anything of us. If this is something that feels important to her, we should give some serious thought to her idea,” cautioned their father, Papa K.

But Papa K’s heart was far from his spoken words. He had traveled to the top of that hill before; he knew the journey would be long and demanding. He had seen that crest up close and knew it to be void of any nutrition for their precious pips. But he would not deny his lovely bride of anything within his power to deliver.

By morning, Elle K had filled each seed sack with some of the best nuggets ready to be planted. The sacks were heavy on their shoulders. They left their fertile Valley of Florae and started the climb to the Hill of Beran.

The longer they walked, the steeper the climb became. Their seed sacks rubbed against their waists and thighs until tiny holes began to wear into the coarse burlap. The Clan K were too busy struggling with their footing to notice that as they climbed higher, more seeds fell to the ground.

When at last they reached the top of the Hill of Beran, they lifted the seed sacks from their shoulders. That’s when they noticed that they were no longer heavy. Most of the seeds had fallen out along the way.

“Papa, look! Our sacks are almost empty. We’ve climbed all this way. My shoes are nearly worn through from the rocks and crags, and now we’ve practically nothing to plant!”

Elle K examined her own flimsy seed sack that had been filled tight. She sighed. She could not let her husband and their boys feel their trip had been in vain.

 “Look at the seeds,” she implored. “The smaller ones fell through the tiny, worn places, but some seeds did survive our trek. Let’s find the very best spots to plant them. We’ll pray for the God of the universe to bless them. Then they will be in His hands.”

The Spring thaw had left a few shallow ponds among the thin trees, and there would be at least some shade there to protect the flowers, if they grew at all. The Clan K went to work and tenderly set the seeds just below the surface of the soil nearest the water ponds, then made the long trip downhill to their beautiful Valley of Florae.

Fall came, then Winter. Life settled back into their routine with few thoughts of their venture to the Hill of Beran.

Then Spring arrived.

After an afternoon of watering and tending their lush florals, Elle K rolled back onto her heels and stretched her neck upward.

“Look!” She exclaimed.

The path they had taken to the top of the Hill of Beran was alive with blooms, just like the Valley of Florae. And the top of the Hill of Beran was afire with color as the sun provided the spotlight for God’s blessings on those few surviving seeds.

Clans from far and wide now make the journey to the top of the Hill of Beran. The once barren crest is now covered with beauty. Every year the flowers increase in number and size, especially at the very top.  

And God smiles.

“How lovely on the mountains

 Are the feet of him who brings good news,

 Who announces peace,

 And brings good news of happiness,

 Who announces salvation,

 And says to Zion,

‘Your God reigns!’”  (Isaiah 52:7 NASB)

A fable to honor a special family. 

Change

It was time to say “Goodbye.” The dream of building our own home in the country and sharing that experience with our two daughters had been realized. Our little girls had made the transition from life in the city to country living and survived the culture shock of trading next door neighbors for a patch of land far removed from everything familiar – far removed from just about everything, actually. 

They were now young women and had left their rural nest in pursuit of their own dreams. It was time for my husband and myself to vacate that same nest and return to the city to begin a new chapter in our own lives.

What an adventure that 20 years had been. We would officially move into our almost-finished rock and rough cedar ranch house in 1980 during the hottest summer on record in our state. Anything that stayed in place for more than 20 seconds either dried up or was devoured by grasshoppers numbered by Biblical standards. By mid-July we were walking on crispy grass that would remain brown until the following spring.

After the initial excitement of building and moving into our new home had worn off, I was left with the reality that I was literally living in the middle of nowhere with all manner of creepy crawlies that were certainly much smaller and less lethal than the ones that existed in my imagination. A reality that meant many hours of alone time and facing many small emergencies that inevitably came when my knight/cowboy could not be there to resolve them.

My husband would travel the 60 miles to the city to work, adding a two-hour round-trip commute to an already long work day. This city girl would survive by staying active in our new church and investing in the girls’ world of basketball and cheer leading in their rural school and even more church activities.

We would experience sudden downpours of rain that would wash out the low-water crossing on the only trail from the county road to our front door. The expression, “Lord willin’ and the creeks don’t rise” was a statement of fact for us on more than one occasion. One of the heaviest snow and ice storms on record would mean four days of intermittent power outages and lots of family togetherness until the snow stopped long enough for my husband to clear a path with our tractor. I was actually a little disappointed when the school buses were able to reclaim miles and miles of dirt and gravel roads and my husband would reclaim his lane on the highway to his two jobs.

I miss the simpler pleasures of that time: A roaring fire in the over-sized fireplace and the wonderful smell that only charred firewood can offer. Along that same vein, I miss the beginning of fall and spending long afternoons raking leaves and twigs from around the pond into huge piles that would also fill the air with aromatic cinders and smoke. Our front door faced the west, and the sunsets seemed to be an inscribed love letter from God to our small family. Rainbows would come and go as they hovered just above the tree line that encircled our remote piece of the rock.

Most importantly, that time in the country was marked by a dependency on God that would not have happened at any other time or under any other circumstance I’ve experienced. The isolation within the walls of that remote haven meant my spending many more hours with Him than a busier lifestyle could have accommodated. Our stay there meant my faith became more of a commitment than a convenience.

When the time came for the new owners to begin living their dream on our farm, my final walk over the cleared front half of the 80 acres was as serene as any place on earth. A new-fallen snow blanketed the thirty-five acres of pasture surrounding our home and glistened peacefully among tree branches heavy with the moist powder. I was careful to photograph and video ahead of each step to keep from spoiling the untouched serenity. It was a still and quiet “Goodbye” that I never wanted to end.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NASB) says, “There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven.” Whatever our future may bring, living in rural America was that defining season that will forever remain deeply etched into my heart and mind. 

Mother's Turn

My mother would have loved having a blog. Goldie Opal Anderson McCall taught the Bible most of her adult life. She was our go-to concordance, our expositor of scriptures that can raise more questions for which human understanding is often no match. We have a few things she wrote, but said little about. Today I'm honored to share one of them, noted with her initials and 1994, the year on April 18 my dad said his good-byes to us and "Hello" to so many loved ones in Heaven. Mother joined him on April 19, 2013.

OUR VALLEYS

Just as each life needs the mountain tops for sun,

The plains and shores for work and fun,

We also need a place along life's way

To be quiet --- to rest --- and hear God say,

"Be still and know that I am God."

Psalm 46:10

His plan for our lives may include a valley along the way,

As we strive to serve Him day by day.

So do not worry --- fret or fear,

He is faithful and will always be near

To "supply all your needs."

Philippians 4:19

No valley is too deep --- too long --- or too wide

To keep Jesus from walking by our side.

His word is full of His promises --- to you and to me ---

No matter where He sends us --- there He is sure to be.

"I will never leave thee or forsake thee."

Hebrews 13:5

GM

1994

We love you, Mom. Your teaching is still golden, and what a treasure to find something you typed and tucked away with so many of your words of wisdom. Enjoy Heaven with Dad. We'll see you soon.

A Prayer for Our Nation

"Almighty GOD; we make our earnest prayer that Thou wilt keep the United States in Thy holy protection, that thou wilt incline the hearts of the citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to government; and entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another and for their fellow citizens of the United States of America at large. And finally that Thou wilt most graciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy and to demean ourselves with that charity, humility and pacific temper of mind which were the characteristics of The Divine Author of our blessed religion, and without whose example in these things we can never hope to be a happy nation. Grant our supplication, we beseech thee, through Jesus Christ Our Lord. Amen"


George Washington

Psalm 51:10-12

"Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me away from Your presence
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
And sustain me with a willing spirit."

Psalm 51:10-12

Come

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” 

(Matthew 11:28, NISB)

  “Come...” 

“Move from where you are"

  “…to Me.”

“Jesus. I’m all you need. I can help.”

  “all”
               “Anyone. Everyone.”

“who are weary”

               “I want to be your strength.”

 “and heavy laden”

               “I carried the cross and then bore it – just for you. I can carry you, too.”

 “and I will give you rest.”

               “Rest for your mind, body and spirit.”

Out of Sight...Out of Mind

I always look forward to spring. Bedding plants, raking last year’s dead leaves from the flower beds, and cool mornings sitting on the porch are a welcome respite after the snow and ice of winter finally melt away. Then summer arrives. I abandon the fresh air and sunshine for the comfort of air conditioning and settle back in until the thermometer drops below 85 degrees again.

          My husband is an outdoor guy. Year around. He works in the extremes of each season, and he’s at home there. This past week, he has encouraged me to be outside with him more, watering trees and flowers, helping with the mowing and pulling the persistent twigs of grass from dirt that reluctantly surrenders the tiny roots.

          Once outdoors, I enjoy the physical labor of gardening, even on such a small scale. And I love seeing the buds and flowers on the rose and lilac bushes gracing a small fenced-in area on the east side of the house. We have no windows on that side of our home; consequently, as the temperatures rise, my memories of the wonders of spring fade. The small round table and chairs of scrolled metal rich in patina and not so rich in comfort sit idle and empty.

          That gentle nudge from my husband takes me back to tend the otherwise helpless blooms and blades. A surprise of new roses and promising buds await me there. The giant yellow day lilies are majestic and begging to be noticed. The two lilac bushes will explode with lavender petals any day now.

This scene reminds me that beauty is always present in our lives. In the face of intensifying headlines that spell trouble and so many loved ones and acquaintances who are in need of prayer for healing and support can sometimes blot out the beauty that God still supplies. And it reminds me of the gentle nudge of our Heavenly Father drawing me back to His beauty

"When You said, 'Seek My face,' my heart said to You,'Your face, O Lord, I shall seek'"Psalm 27:8 NASB

          There is beauty in the quiet times of prayer and reading God’s Word. There is beauty in the sound of laughter and conversation with family and friends. There is beauty in fresh air and creation with the scents and shades of life growing just beyond a porch or fence. There is beauty in each cloud, whether they are floating lazily across a blue, still sky or embroiled with storms and threats of severe weather. Sunrises. Sunsets. All a reminder that we have a loving God Who is still in control and Who has a plan that is unfolding before our very eyes.

"O God, You are my God; I shall seek You earnestly; My soul thirsts for You, my flesh yearns for You, In a dry and weary land where there is no water. Thus I have seen You in the sanctuary, To see Your power and Your glory." Psalm 63:1,2 NASB

No Regrets

Each day begins anew
And I receive a measure
Of breath to share a moment
That could someday be a treasure.

Shall I but take for granted
My years upon this earth
Not listening to the rhythm
Of my breathing set at birth.

Breath spent cannot return
No matter how I pray
That I can have another chance
To relive a wasted day.

Shall I run breathless through my maze
Letting time pass quickly by
Or choose to direct my path
And catch the memories before they fly.

Each time I breathe a prayer
For His hand to lead me on
I must listen and obey
Before a chance to serve is gone.

The gifts He breathed in me
To be used to glorify
Will wither and fade away
Unless I lift His banner high.

Every breath I have is numbered
And I cannot know when
My voice will become silent
And my life will see its end.

His Spirit gives my soul
The breath to sing and dance
Let not my last words be,
“Please give me one more chance.”

Let me work through each new day
To see each battle won
‘Til the Spirit breathes the words
That say, “My child, a job well done.”

Nancy K. Sullivan
8-22-2010

Holy Bat Man

     You meet the nicest people in a hospital. One of our favorite team members on the hospital staff was the kind man who took care of the lab procedures to track my husband's progress in overcoming pneumonia about three years ago.

     Mr. Moore's (not his real name) warm smile and caring demeanor surely make him a welcome visitor to each patient's room despite the needles and vials that accompany him. And he listens to his patients. 

     After we explained that blood had been drawn and set aside in the ER in case more lab work was needed, he took extra time to track it down and avoided yet another needle stick in my husband's now-perforated arm. He then shared an experience that taught him the importance of really listening to and respecting what his patients say to him:

     A few years earlier in a different hospital Mr. Moore entered the room of an elderly lady who was very ill with cancer. Her extended stay had resulted in a friendship between the two. She was crying. When he asked her why, she told him she was in terrible pain. 

     "Why don't you ask for some pain medication?" 

     "I can't. They think I'm hallucinating."

     "Why do they think you're hallucinating, Mrs. James?" (Again, a fictitious name.)

     "Because I told them there is a bat in my room."

     "There's a bat in your room!"

     Mrs. James nodded in the affirmative.

     Mr. Moore's kind spirit led him to the next question:
    "Can you tell me where this um … bat … is?"

     "Yes. It's behind that chair in the corner."

     Mrs. James' confidant dutifully walked to the designated corner and slowly pulled the chair from its resting place. There it was. A bat. About two inches long, his wings clinging to the wall.

     This particular hospital was an older facility located near a wildlife habitat. The roll-out windows of the hospital could be opened only slightly, but wide enough for the winged rodent to slip inside.

     Mr. Moore immediately contacted security and had the bat removed from her room. He then took the necessary steps to secure the much-needed pain medication for his grateful patient/friend, Mrs. James. How much more suffering would she have had to endure had it not been for the listening heart of a busy professional? I will always remember Mr. Moore’s engaging smile and the way he rescued Mrs. James from the bat no one else bothered to locate.

"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard

one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out

for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others."

(Philippians 2:3-4, NASB)

Why OKLAHOMA?

May 3, 1999 Near Anadarko, OK

          On May 3, 1999, a spring day turned into a nightmare as an EF5 tornado ripped through the lives of Oklahomans. It showed no mercy. Forty-four lives and more than 300 homes could not escape fury’s path. Surely, it was the tornado that would never be equaled – at least that’s what we thought.
          We were proven wrong on May 20, 2013, as another EF5 plowed much of the same area and left splintered lives dazed in unbelief. Twenty-four Oklahomans, including nine elementary students became our latest heartache. The speed at which the skies boiled into one deadly cloud left little time for even the most savvy weather watchers to find cover. Sixteen minutes was their allotted time to read Mother Nature’s mind and get out of her way.




May 20, 2013 Moore OK by Wikipedia

          And, as disaster relief workers from around the state and the nation were settling in for weeks of recovery efforts, May 31 became another page in our history books.
          An EF5 tornado that measured 2.6 miles wide and carried winds of 295 mph became the largest tornado ever recorded worldwide. More lives were lost. An infant and her mother, three experienced storm chasers whose study of the storms have saved countless lives, and a family of seven were among the victims. The trail of destruction differed only in the names of the highways, streets and structures affected and the flooding brought on by record-breaking rainfall. Rain that hid the beast from its victims until it was too late. The rest of the sad scenes filling media reports were much the same.


Photograph by Mike Bettes     El Reno, OK  5/31/2013

          Why Oklahoma? We’re a small state in the heartland that, absent tragedy, rarely grabs a headline from national and world-wide news.
          According to our local weathermen, the tornado that struck the area east of Oklahoma on April 19, 2013, could easily have been pegged an EF5 had it not been in a rural area. It wiped out a mobile home park, many additional homes and took two lives. On April 19, 1995, it was hatred that used our state as a personal and political site and literally put us on the map.
          Dr. Ronnie Hill is an evangelist from Ft. Worth, TX. On May 26, 2013, he was the guest speaker in our church. First Southern Baptist Church was a command post after the May 3, 1999 tornado. Dr. Hill's powerful message followed the path of the tornadoes, but with healing rather than destruction.
          When he shared Job’s story, I followed along and was surprised that I had never noticed how Job’s children died. One of several messengers bringing bad news to Job that day reported the most heartbreaking:

“…'Your sons and your daughters were eating and

drinking wine in their oldest brother’s house and behold,

a great wind came from across the wilderness

and struck the four corners of the house, and it

fell on the young people and they died, and

I alone have escaped to tell you.’”

(Job 1:18,19,NASB)

          Why Oklahoma? Why not? The tragedies that are becoming part of our history seem out of proportion to the size of our small state, but we’re certainly not the only ones in America who are hurting in the face of natural and man-made grief.
          We are learning to “bear one another’s burdens” as we mobilize our man power and resources and rush to the aid of our neighboring citizens, and as they do the same for us. Fellow Americans are never too far away and the need never too great to cause one second of hesitation in reaching across the miles.
          Pastor Dave Evans of Highland Baptist Church in Moore watched on May 20 as the monster tornado took dead aim for the church. As he drove about a mile east to flee the path, he prayed for God’s will. Willing to accept either the church’s demise or the responsibility of ministering to the community, he watched God work.
          The tornado lifted away from the chosen campus, then resumed its path. Later one of the members would point out the date inscribed on the plaque commemorating the day of dedication of the church. It was May 20, 1984.
          On the heels of the May 20 tornado, Operation Blessing was literally driving through Moore asking God for His direction. All heads were bowed (except the driver, of course.) When they looked up, they saw their answer. The sign that read “Highland Baptist Church” told them they had reached their destination.
          Our son-in-law, Ken Kniskern, joined the staff at Highland as a bi-vocational worship leader a few months prior to the outbreak of violent storms. He chases and photographs tornadoes and was literally on the heels of the storm. He and the pastor arrived at the church very quickly. They would be there for the next several days and nights working with other volunteers, doing what they could to see to the immediate needs of Moore, OK residents. Ken’s full-time position at the University of Oklahoma graciously gave him over to the church for those days because that’s where he was needed most.
          At this writing (one week to the day) the church is still operating with generators. Classrooms now house truck loads of kindness from around the nation. The sanctuary has been transformed into a dining room for upwards to 1,000 volunteers who have come and gone and for those who arrive daily. (That number would grow to more than 5,000 with more volunteers showing up daily.) One young man, Hugo, traveled with a group from Texas and when they had to return to their homes last week, Hugo stayed. Oklahoma welcomes her newest resident.
          On May 25, the morning service gave way to living the scripture as teams were dispatched into adjoining neighborhoods to deliver food and essentials and to continue the monumental task of cleaning away the ruins.

Photo by MacKenzie Cage 5/23/2013

          That evening, the worship center was staged outdoors for a community service. The church sits on a beautiful hill overlooking the pain, yet the hope, that resides in her view. One of the members looked up during the service and saw a cloud formation of a cross. Many pictures of rainbows appearing over us that week have been shared through social media. Highland Baptist Church is but one of so many churches and organizations doing exactly the same things for Oklahomans. Churches out of the area partner with the ones that have the best accessibility to the wounded and homeless.
          Our daughter, Mandy, walked through Highland’s parking lot and counted 15 different out-of-state license tags. Food, water, and clothing – all essentials are being brought in by cars, trucks and semis from around the country. The generous cash donations enable families to address their particular immediate needs.

***********

          WHY, Oklahoma? Why do we stay in a land known as “Tornado Alley”? We know the storms are coming, yet we never know exactly where their razor-sharp tailwinds will strike. There are certainly more beautiful and serene places to live. But Oklahoma roots run deep.
          We appreciate the quality of life and the quieter pace. For many, those roots are deeply grounded in our faith and in knowing that God is sovereign and that His time is measured in eternity, not in our limited perspective of the temporal.
          As horrible as the scenes we relive with every news cast are from this side, we know that the innocent children are in a place of unimaginable beauty and forever protected from another moment of pain or sadness. They didn’t leave this world alone. They were accompanied by the Jesus who loves them to that special place He had prepared for them before the first hail stone fell from the sky or the circular winds began to blow.
          We have the opportunity to show others, not the Oklahoma Standard, but God’s Standard. We are just the messengers of His love and provision as we reach out to others and as we accept their incredible love and support when the need is ours. We show that our hope is not misplaced as lives are healed and homes are rebuilt.
          It is our prayer that, through it all, hearts will be changed and that many will come to know the Jesus we serve and the One who loves them enough to die for them through His sacrifice for our sin. Then their perspective will be forever changed from the temporal to the eternal.
          May we be found as faithful as Job and as willing to accept that which we cannot comprehend or attempt to explain:

“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

(Job 1:20b, NASB)

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you,

which comes upon you for your testing,

as though some strange thing were happening to you;

but to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ,

keep on rejoicing, so that also on the revelation of His glory

you may rejoice with exultation.”

(I Peter 4:12-13, NASB)

© 2013

A Softer Voice, the Book

      

          It's been roughly 14 months since I promised my mother, Goldie Opal Anderson McCall, that I would fulfill her request to gather several years' worth of poetry, blog posts, and Christian Women's Voice magazine articles into a collection. And now she resides in the realm of eternity in Heaven where time is no longer a factor.
          I tried to wiggle out of this project with some very creative objections and excuses, but I knew too well by the look in those brown eyes that she wasn't buying into any of them. So…I promised to honor her request. She knew I would keep my word and (eventually) complete a labor of love simply because she asked me to.
          When Mother's health began to rapidly decline, it became evident that my late-night typing would not speed the process enough for her to see the finished product. To reassure her, I took the Introduction, Acknowledgement and a few articles, read them to her and vowed to complete the task.
          Here's to you, Mom. Thanks for a lifetime of love, encouragement, support, and...patience. I may not be able to place the first copy in your hands (I think we would enjoy a little laugh over the yellow roses on the cover), but I do surrender A Softer Voice in book form to the Author and Finisher of our faith, Christ Jesus.
          I'm so blessed to have landed on www.FaithWriters.com a few years ago. This network of likeminded Christians with a heart for sharing our faith through writing has become a very special circle of friends who are the first to offer encouragement and support to others. What seemed to be a small and tenuous step led to a writer's conference, a blogging class, Clearing the Blog Fog, by Patty Wysong, the opportunity to share at www.JewelsofEncouragment.com, and an invitation from Debbie Dillon to be a contributor for Christian Women's Voice magazine (www.christianwomensvoice.org). God knew I needed to be led through this wonderful maze with baby steps.  The beautiful new face on this blog is the creative work of another FaithWriter friend, Marita Thelander. Thanks, Mari! 
           Mandy Sullivan Kniskern is a proofreader extraordinaire and just happens to be my daughter. When God placed her (and her sweet family) in our home this past year, she couldn't have known she would be spending late-night hours reading through heavy eyelids looking for typos and other errors. Thank you, Mandy!   
          And a heart full of gratitude to my very best friend, Bud, whose patient character is the benchmark for our marriage in ways too many to list. His hard work each day has allowed me the privilege to be a stay-at-home wife and, at one time, mom. This quieter time in my life means I get to pursue what I enjoy. Thank you, Bud!  
          Following is the link to Friesen Press where A Softer Voice can be purchased for download, paperback or hardback. Many thanks to Mariam Ordubadi, Author Account Manager; Ashley Good, Book Promotion Specialist; and other team members (known to me only by their first names) Geoff, Carmen, Shari, Ceilidh, and Publishing Consultant Tim Plakeolli. A special thank you to the Art Department for the beautiful original art for the cover. Each one of you helped to make this self-published effort blossom into the best it could be.

http://www.friesenpress.com/bookstore/title/119734000012346379

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/nancy-k.-Sullivan

http://www.amazon.com/Softer-Voice-Sharing-Family-Friends/dp/1460229533/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1400524115&sr=1-2&keywords=A+Softer+Voice

http://www.amazon.com/Softer-Voice-Sharing-Family-Friends-ebook/dp/B00KC1KQMY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1400524211&sr=8-1&keywords=A+Softer+Voice

"For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth,
 visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities
---all things have been created through Him and for Him.
He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together."
(Colossians 1:16-17 NASB)

Son of God

 

We saw Son of God last night. Some of the images are still with me today. Some were difficult to see. It felt awkward to watch images of the suffering that Jesus endured. Awkward because the pain was His and the grief belonged to his earthly mother and His Heavenly Father.

It was intense. And personal. And I didn't want to be in that crowd gawking at a painful dying process. But God didn't hide the suffering or the shame of the crucifixion of His only beloved Son. His redemptive plan was meant to draw us in - to show us the cost of our sin. A price He charged to His only Son. For me. And for you.

We have a choice. We can remain ghoulish and watch while we keep our distance. Or we can own what is ours. Our sins - every one of them, and our sin - our nature that makes it impossible to live a pure enough life to meet God's standards of holiness.

Jesus gave Himself up to hands that would beat him mercilessly, mouths that would spew hatred and spittle, and arms that would raise a sledge hammer to drive spikes into hands that were used to bless and to heal others and into feet that carried Him to the lost and the dying. And to the cross.

All He asks in return is a heart full of repentance and faith. A heart willing to be open to His unspeakable gift of forgiveness and love. Unconditional love. If there had been only one person in need of a Savior, He would have endured the cross for that one soul.

Pride would cause us to close our eyes and walk away from accepting our part in Jesus' death. Pride is deadly. And a pride that refuses to believe in God's redemptive plan and be humbled enough to receive it leads to the second death from which there is no return.

My prayer for anyone reading these words is for your eyes to be open to a love only God could bestow. And for your heart to be willing to simply acknowledge Jesus as God's only Son, recognize that we are all sinners, ask for forgiveness of your sins and invite Jesus into your heart.

The Son of God will return. This time in glory.

http://www.sonofgodmovie.com/videos.html

http://faithwritersjesuspage.weebly.com/

Baseball, Bricktown and Blood

          Living well into the sixth decade of our lives, we’re still finding that it’s fun to do new things – like go to a minor league baseball game for the first time ever. Oklahoma City has a beautiful baseball stadium in the heart of the city – Bricktown, we call it. And we have a great baseball team in the Oklahoma City Redhawks.

          Honestly, our new adventure came about with free tickets given by the Oklahoma Blood Institute in their recent donor campaign. Since I’m O+, I get scheduled reminders that it’s time to pay them a visit every 6 weeks. I feel blessed to be on the giving end of that procedure.

          OK, back to the game. The weather last Sunday night was quite a treat for Oklahomans coming out of two previous hot and record breaking summer seasons. Our seats were in the shade near third base and the breeze was an added pleasure.

 

          When I asked Bud how he was enjoying the game, his reply was that, well, it did give him time to think of other things. And he was so right. Baseball is relaxing to watch. And there’s just enough excitement built in with a couple of homeruns and a close-scoring game to keep relaxation from turning to boredom. Our minds did have time to think ahead – or back as the case may be. But the sound of a bat connecting with a baseball traveling 85 – 95 mph kept our thoughts from staying too far.

          Our Redhawks made us proud with two homeruns (one of them brought in a second runner) and won the game 4 – 3 over Iowa’s team.

         The tough part was inhaling the aroma of funnel cakes, hot dogs and nachos. Our new health-conscious lifestyle kept our resolve intact, and we just settled for the atmosphere of the wonderful food served up as only Oklahomans can.

          Another first? Singing along with “Take Me Out To the Ball Game” during the seventh inning stretch. It made the evening complete. We may even buy our tickets next time.