Chapter Four

Thomas Griffith wrote, “Men fit themselves for hell but it is God [who] fits men for heaven.” For many years, although a  believer, I had seen myself as more fit for hell than for heaven. I was filled with guilt and condemnation. That wrong believing began to change as The Holy Spirit worked a wonder in my broken heart. Though I could do nothing to alter my situation or that of my daughter, God enlightened the eyes of my heart . . . as I listened to his whispers.

And Jesus Whispered ~

I call you ‘mine. I call you “my loved one.” You are the object of my mercy.

I read about it: “For surely, O Lord, you bless the righteous; you surround them with your favor as with a shield.” (Psalm 5:12)

Favor. Undeserved. Unmerited. But it was mine: the Favor of the Father. . . I had spent most of my adult life in condemnation and guilt ~~ never feeling good enough for God’s grace. But now, when I needed it the most, I realized, recognized, and received His amazing grace and His unfailing love for me and for my family. It was an awesome understanding that filled my broken heart. Almighty God had given me His favor.

And Jesus Whispered~

I bless you, Kathi, because you are righteous in Christ Jesus. I have surrounded you with my favor as a shield.

 
(Excerpt from Chapter 4)
Order When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers 
by Kathi Waligora on this site:
 
 
 

Like the woman of Samaria

He “needed” to go through Samaria. He could have gone around Samaria – out of the way, like others did, to avoid the dirty, barren route in the middle of a dry, hot day. But he went through Samaria – seeking the woman, the lost woman.

He met her at the well, in the heat of the midday, the time she purposely came to avoid the others – all the others – those who knew of her past and those who knew of her present. Day after day she came, rejected by the people, ashamed and alone, with a thirst that was never quenched.

“If you only knew,” He said. “You could ask for living water.”

What is living water? She wondered.

He knew everything about her.

She knew only that the Christ would be coming.

He said, “I AM!”

She ran to tell everyone about Him – the Christ.

And many believed – because of her testimony.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

He sought me one day –  a lost woman.

He met me where I was – alone and broken, rejected and ashamed, dirty and parched.

He knew everything about me, but He loved me anyway.

“Come to me,” He said, “Drink of the living water, and you’ll never thirst. The water I give will become a spring in you, welling up to eternal life.”

And so I drank.

And now I’m running to tell everyone about Him – the Christ.

Like the woman of Samaria.

(See John 4:1-26)

“In five years, Lord, may this be nothing but a bad memory,” he prayed.

“The phone call came shortly after Ron and I were both sound asleep, early in the night, between a normal Tuesday and a wretched Wednesday. I jumped out of bed to answer. With Mama and Daddy in the nursing home, I was accustomed to receiving phone calls – day or night. ‘Doctor ordered a different medicine,’ or ‘Your mother had a fall.’ But I could see on the phone ID that this call was different. It was Jesse’s dad, Jake. I knew something was wrong – desperately wrong.

            ‘Kathi, this is Jake. Amber and Jesse have been arrested.’

            Please, God, let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up now.” 

It was a nightmare – a living nightmare, culminating  years of heartache and despondency. I couldn’t shake this nightmare, as I had those of my childhood – with splashes of cold water on my face and by walking around the house.  This nightmare persisted, and at first, I had no strength to fight it.

Within those first days, I spoke with my beloved former pastor, pouring out my broken heart, with the news of our daughter’s arrest – news that had shattered my world. He now lived across the country, but he prayed for me on the phone that day.  I still remember some of those words:

“In five years, Lord, may this be nothing but a bad memory.”

In my deepest despair, those dozen words encouraged me. Was it possible that a day might come when this pain would no longer permeate my soul – when only a memory of the pain would exist? 

That living nightmare occurred well over five years ago! And today, it is nothing but a bad memory!

It’s a long story, and you’ll have to read my book to understand how the Lord lessened my anguish, bit by bit, miracle by miracle – how the Lord broke through chains – my chains, my daughter’s chains. It’s an awesome story!

 Pastor Mills passed to heaven recently. I thanked him here on earth, and I’ll thank him again when I see him in heaven:  Thank you for hope – a hope I’ve come to know – a hope I now instill in others.

Friend, as I write this, I pray Ephesians 1:18 for you – that you might know that hope – that your worst nightmare will soon be nothing but memory, a memory God has healed. You can know the God who breaks away the chains, breaks down the gates of bronze, and cuts through the bars of iron!

Click here to read the Forgotten Man Ministries’ article about Amber and Jesse’s experience.

Click here to order When Life Roars, Jesus Whispers to read this amazing story and to learn how to find hope and encouragement in your troubles.

God bless!

Kathi

Contact me through this website. I would love to speak to your group and encourage you!

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Peace Please

I toss and turn through the night. Wake early, lie in bed, and fret.

The day is beautiful. Peace is in my soul.

But it is my body – and my mind – that lack it.

Peace – the kind of peace only Jesus can give. I seek it this morning.

“Oh, Keeper of my Soul,” I pray, as my eyes fall upon His Words.

He whispers to me:

“I give you peace, Kathi, the kind of peace only I can give.”

“Your Word is truth,” I read – and pray, speaking His Word back to Him, the creator of those words.

I am thirsting for the truth which brings peace. Desiring it more than the cup of coffee in my hand.

My eyes spring from verse to verse, from highlight to annotation, rediscovering messages of hope and comfort, His whispers of love, affirmation, and peace – yes, of peace –  as the Keeper of my Soul  fulfills His promise to me.

Let the Keeper of your Soul quench your thirst for peace today. Let your eyes fall upon His Word.

Today’s messages from the Word:

John 14:26, 27; 16:20, 33: 17:13-17

This same Jesus

She thought she would be hired full time. But it didn’t happen.

Now she waits and wonders. What’s next?

This same Jesus . . .

They thought the healing would come by now. But it hasn’t happened yet.

They wait.

This same Jesus . . .

The woman sits alone in the dark, wanting the phone to ring.

She cries while she waits.

This same Jesus . . .

The test results aren’t back until next week.

He fights the fears and waits.

This same Jesus . . .

Others had waited and wondered. It was forty days after the resurrection. They had met with Jesus and they had seen Him taken up before their very eyes:

. . . suddenly two men (angels) dressed in white stood beside them and asked, “Why do you stand here, looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way.” (Acts 1:10,11)

Now I, too, contemplate  violets this same Jesus who

turned water into wine,

healed every affliction,

multiplied the loaves and fishes,

raised the dead,

had compassion for the needy and the sick,

was angry and wept when his friend died,

was beaten for our healing,

took our sins upon himself;

this same Jesus who

is always living, always saving, always interceding for me,

is the same yesterday and today and forever;

this same Jesus who

never forsakes the righteous.

Now I wait; for I can trust  –

this same Jesus.

the daughter

She was truly a lovely young girl – probably a teenager – dressed in jeans and a jean jacket. Fine, thin hair. A pale complexion. Yet she didn’t appear quite like other teenage girls. She floated around the produce as I was shopping. I noticed her mother, a pretty, small, dark-haired woman, a short distance away, selecting produce, yet constantly aware of her daughter’s every move. This was obviously a way of life to which she had become accustomed.

The daughter was very thin. I immediately assumed she didn’t eat much – probably due to being nervous or high strung. My mind played out a scenario of the mother, encouraging the daughter to eat – often to no avail. In my mind, it wasn’t just a scenario. It was one I have lived. Repeatedly.

The daughter’s hands and forearms were raised much of the time, which attributed to her fairy-like floating. As she flitted by people, she moved close to them – entering their space.  She didn’t say a word, simply looked at the person approached. A nervous smile covered the face of a healthy, vibrant young woman as “the daughter” came near her. The young woman looked at “the mother” as if to ask, “What now?” But the mother had already spoken quietly to the daughter from a distance away, and the daughter floated on. I knew the inner agony of always having to watch over the daughter because I, too, watch over a child.

As I left the produce department, I observed the daughter float up to a young man. I recognized him – a polite young man who worked in the store – obviously coming in to work for the evening. He kindly smiled at the daughter. Spoke a quiet word or two, as he continued toward the back of the store to check in for his shift. I was relieved the mother didn’t have to interact again. I could imagine the distress of doing so. I could imagine because I, too, have interacted.

little sad crying girl sitting on the bedFrom the first moment I saw the daughter, my heart was with the mother.  I imagined her life – years of loving and training – years of hurt mixed with occasional tears of joy over the simplest accomplishments. I felt a bit of her pain, although she didn’t reveal any during this short encounter. But I knew a bit of that pain because I, too, have it – the pain that accompanies the unconditional love. The pain of having people judge the way a mother (or a grandmother) should act – judging how I should handle having a child (or grandchild) like this. The hurt of hearing others comment on an affliction they know very little about. The advice I wish they would keep to themselves. The lack of compassion for the pain I constantly carry. The lack of discussion – because it’s easier for them to simply change the subject.  I imagined the continuous tugging at the mother’s heartstrings as other children her daughter’s age were saying and doing normal everyday things, reaching and celebrating milestones – day after day and week after week – leading to year after year. Birthday parties and Christmases and Easter Egg hunts, and school events, and simple playtime activities that other children were enjoying while “the daughter” floated.

And by this time, I had purchased my groceries and was pushing my small cart across the front of the store, when I saw the daughter one more time. She floated up to me, her hands and forearms lifted like a precious little fairy, and I smiled at her and said, “Hello!”

Speechless, she floated on. Then I caught the eye of the mother – the sweet mother with a simple, sweet smile on her face – a smile that said, Thank you. Thank you for treating my daughter like you would any other child.

Where should I go now?

I’m asking that question of myself! Where should I go now?

Do you ever feel that way? Wondering whether or not you should go a certain direction, take a specific path, or pursue a different avenue?

I’m in that place right now – regarding my writing.

Where should I go now? I ask God. I know He will answer. Just not sure when or how.

Meanwhile, . . .

I’ve decided to continue,  one step at a time, down a path, onto an avenue.

I know He will lead me as I go.

What about you? Don’t be dormant. Move forward. Don’t stand still.

You’re not too old, too busy, too sick, too discouraged, or too weary. You’ll find Him directly ahead of you in that direction, that path, and that avenue. “Come to me,” He says!

28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

From Matthew 11

He’s leading. You’re following.

Take off your sandals!

The nation of Israel had just crossed the Jordan River. And before they undertook this awesome journey, they had consecrated themselves, as Joshua had told them to do.

“Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.” (Joshua 3:4)

And the Lord did amazing things!

Next, the Israelites had another huge, unimaginable task before them – to bring down the city of Jericho – literally bring it down, with a SHOUT, making Jericho totally vulnerable to Israel’s own army – the army of the Lord. But just before this was to happen, Joshua saw a man in front of him – a man with a drawn sword in his hand. This man told Joshua that he was “commander of the army of the Lord.” Was he the Lord himself? Perhaps he was.  We can assume so, as Joshua certainly recognized the authority of this commander. He fell facedown and asked the commander a question:

“What message does my Lord have for his servant?”

“The commander of the Lord’s army replied, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy, ‘ And Joshua did so. ‘”(Joshua 5:15)

We see obedience. I, too, must ask the Lord,

What message do you have for me, Lord – for me, your servant?

Do you want to stand on holy ground? I do. I want to obey my commander’s orders. I want to be ready for the huge, unimaginable task before me. In order to do that, I must ask the Lord what His message is for me. And I need to take off my sandals. They’re dirty; they carry the dust and grime of the path I’ve been on. I want to be rid of them. I want my feet to be clean so I can step on to God’s holy ground. I want to be cleansed.

“Search me, O God . . . See if there is any offensive way in me . . .” (Psalm 139:23-24) “Create in me a [clean and] pure heart, O God. . . Restore me” (Psalm 51:10, 12).

It is only then, after taking off my sandals, after cleansing, that I can be ready to follow the seemingly huge, unimaginable task the Lord has set before me.

It is only then, that it could be written,

“Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy. And Kathi did so.”

Do you want to stand on holy ground?

Then take off your sandals.

The God Who Whispers

Last night, as I knelt beside my bed and prayed – a habit I developed as a child – I felt like my prayers weren’t reaching God. But knowing Him as I do, I knew my thoughts were foolish. He is faithful, even when I am not.

The troubles and trials of life become overwhelming at times. My soul is thirsty for Him. My body is weak from work. My mind is boggled. Yes, He is faithful. But sometimes I can’t sense His presence and that faithfulness for which I yearn.

This morning, after a restless night, I awoke to light instead of darkness. The light brought refreshment to my weary soul. I was thankful for it, but . . .

I dropped to my knees again – this time in the light of day – and simply prayed something like, “You are faithful, even when I am not. And I need You, Father.”

No photo description available.Then I saw a posting I had put on my Facebook Writer’s page. It was from Psalm 63:8, and it read, “My soul followeth hard after Thee.” (It was the King James Version – beautiful Shakespearean language!)

My own posting caused me to wonder – Does my soul follow hard after the Lord? Is my soul “clinging” to Him? Am I yearning and seeking His Word? Am I pursuing the message of my own posting, intended to be a piece of hope to others?

And so I opened the Word to Psalm 63, and I read it first as my question to Him:

“Oh, God, am I earnestly seeking you? Is my soul thirsting for you? My  body longing for you in this dry, weary life, where nothing else quenches my thirst? . . . It is true that I have seen you in worship; I have witnessed your power in miracles – both in my life and in others’. . .”

And as I read the Word as my question, it soon became my praise!

And my soul clung to Him and to His Word. When this happens, He whispers. And I listen!

Let your soul cling to Him in this sometimes dry and weary life.

Let Him whisper to you, my friend, through His Word.

I respond by speaking and praying His Word back to Him:

From Psalm 63

You, God, are my God,
    earnestly I seek you;
My soul thirsts for you,
    my whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched land
    where there is no water.

I have seen you in the sanctuary
    and beheld your power and your glory.
Because your love is better than life,
    my lips will glorify you.
I will praise you as long as I live,
    and in your name I will lift up my hands.
I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
    with singing lips my mouth will praise you.

On my bed I remember you;
    I think of you through the watches of the night.
Because you are my help,
    I sing in the shadow of your wings.
I cling to you;
    your right hand upholds me.

Kathi

Locked in

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” John 20:19

“. . . the doors locked for fear . . .”

Are you “locked in your room”  so to speak “for fear of” talking to others? Fear of letting them know that you are a believer – a follower of Jesus?

What will they say? Will they laugh? Tease? Make fun of you?

How long have you hidden from others? How many times have you locked yourself in, hiding your Bible, your faith, your Jesus?

“Jesus . . . among them . . .”

 He is there in that locked room with you, offering you peace.

He suffered for you.

Died for you.

Resurrected for you.

You’ve seen His hands and His side. Isn’t it time you open the locked door, go out, and show Jesus to others?

He’s sending you. And He’ll give you the peace to go. Unlock the door.

Further reading: John 20:19-28