Praising, Like Mary – Advent Awaits
Waiting like Elizabeth – Advent Awaits
Advent Awaits!
I love adventure, don’t you? Some time ago, I wrote a series of posts on my website titled “Adventure Awaits,” the theme for our big trip. How exciting it was for my husband, Ron, and me to venture 32 days across the Northwest US, 11-states, 7323 miles, hauling our cute little travel trailer – just the perfect size for the two of us.
My Ron. His Ron. God was at work behind the scenes.
I’ve screamed at the enemy – the devil – many times in the past and will many times again, I’m sure. But on a recent Tuesday morning, June 13, shortly after midnight, in a hospital parking lot, I raised my voice in anger and authority against the thief who was trying to kill my husband:
True Confessions
I pray as I walk down the narrow road, talking to the Father about those early days, years ago, when I was so zealous in my faith, so trusting, so willing. I remember the words written on the thin pages of my King James Bible, so vivid and distinct, as though they were freshly written with the very ink on the true papyrus used by St. Paul. The words seemed to magnify, embolden, and rise up, penetrating my spirit:
Early Morning Wisdom ~ Post 4 – From “The Getaway – Seeking Sounds of Silence, the Secret Place of Rest, and Wisdom”
The Porcupine Mountains in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, are unbelievably remote. Our campsite is at the Northeast tip of this huge state park;
I hear the Master whisper . . .
I drive past it nearly every day, on my way somewhere. Today, though, I pull over and park my car in the lot, now overlaid with weeds. I look at the church – an unkempt building that has been empty for many years now – and I listen. No music flows through its closed windows. No children laugh or play on the rotted teeter-totter in its side yard. No pastor preaches from its pulpit. Instead, I hear the sounds of the country – the birds, the leaves kissing the breeze, a tractor in the distance,
Remember what He said . . .
The day was the worst ever. It was neither “Good” nor “Holy,” as we now refer to the Friday of Holy Week. In the midst of the curious, the angry, the Jewish officials, and the Roman soldiers, this handful of Christ followers – the women – stood near the cross, numbed in their sorrow and despair. Their Messiah, their Lord, their Savior, had been brutally beaten – beyond recognition. Earlier, they had followed Him and the procession of onlookers as He carried His cross, sometimes falling to the ground, up the hill.
How can He possibly continue. Please God.
But He did continue.
Wait! First I Need My Helmet.
I post on my Facebook Author’s page every day, most often using photos or Bible verses, or “sayings” that have spoken to me. Sometimes I select the postings days in advance, scheduling them for a later time. After the post is published, I review it, as though I haven’t seen it before.
And always – it speaks anew to me.