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June 12 Repentance Bridge“Hang on!” Eric could feel Ross’ hand slipping from his grasp. The
protruding tree root that his legs were wrapped around was the only
thing keeping him from plummeting into the deep ravine with his friend.
Laying on his stomach headfirst at he cliff’s edge gave him a much too
clear look at the danger. “Let go of the bag and give me your other
hand.” Eric saw Ross hesitate. The precious bag held what had led them here in the first place. A treasure. But Ross valued his life more at this point. Gold and jewels sailed into the ravine, never to be seen again. Ross groped for Eric’s hand, and held on as he was dragged up onto solid ground. Both young men were sweaty and breathing heavily, but had little time to recover. The dense jungle foliage rustled with the running feet of the Tribe. “They’re still coming,” Eric warned in a whisper. “We have to get out of here.” Ross reached for his machete, but it was gone. He’d lost it over the edge. “Which way?” Sweat poured from Eric’s brow as he grabbed his Guidebook. It was their only hope of finding the way to Repentance Bridge. Eric found the map and ran his finger along the trail. “We have to follow Vanity Ravine. Once we get over this mountain, it’s just a few more miles until we reach the bridge.” “Do you think we can make it?” “We have to.” Concern laced Eric’s words. He and Ross both knew the severity of the situation. They had crossed into the Forbidden Territory, believing that wealth and adventure awaited them. The Maker had told them about the dangers and temptations. He had explained that once someone crossed over, it was difficult to return. But Eric and Ross had laughed off the warnings. They had been sure that the other side was better. They had been wrong. Eric picked himself up and peered through the thick brush to see the Tribe’s painted faces. They wanted their treasure back. Unfortunately for all involved, it now lay at the bottom of Vanity Ravine. If Eric and Ross were captured without the jewels in hand, they most likely wouldn’t make it out alive. “Come on,” Eric whispered. “Stay low and follow me.” The two men crept through the undergrowth, stopping every few minutes as the Tribe crossed their path. “They’re not going to give up, are they?” Ross asked quietly. Eric wanted to laugh at the question. The closer they got to Repentance Bridge, the angrier the Evil One would become. He was the ruler on this side of the ravine, and would try everything to stop the men from leaving. “There it is.” Eric followed Ross’ pointing finger and spotted Repentance Bridge. A smile creased his lips. “We did it.” Before they took another step, the ground started to shake. “What’s happening?” Ross whispered hoarsely. Eric went for his Guidebook again, and desperately searched for instruction. “It’s the volcano.” “Mount Hate? What do we do?” “We have to make a run for it. The Evil One is furious. If we don’t get to the bridge quickly, the lava will cut us off.” The path was steep, causing the men to trip and stumble. The air grew stale, and the stench of burning sulfur was suffocating. At last, Eric felt a wooden plank beneath his feet. “Fools!” Eric whirled around to face the Evil One, fear surging through his veins. “You think your Maker will want you back?” the Evil One bellowed. “After you walked away from Him?” Eric clutched his Guidebook. “He loves us.” Fire flashed in the Evil One’s eyes. “Cross that bridge, and you’ll be throwing away your dreams.” “All I found here were lies and deceit,” Eric stated boldly. “You trap lost souls here to live in an eternity of suffering, not give them their dreams. My Maker offers me more than you ever could, and I’m just sorry it took me this long to realize it.” Flames from the lava raged toward them. Eric and Ross hesitated only a moment before turning their backs on the one who offered worldly pleasure. Through the smoke, they could just make out their Maker – His arms stretched wide open. Repentance Bridge was long and narrow, swaying dangerously in the wind. But love, peace and eternal life were waiting. April 17 The Legacy of GraceI felt a tear trickle slowly down my face as Grace’s gnarled fingers gave my hand one more brave squeeze. No monitors buzzed, no strange beeps disturbed the silence. It was just what Grace wanted - to go Home without any more delay. A smile creased my lips as I remembered the first time I had met Grace. I had been alone and scared, emotionally abandoned by my family and struggling to survive. No one had cared about me…except Grace. Grace, whose eyes could pierce a steel plate, yet cradle a crying child with love. Grace, whose hands told stories of hardships, yet when mending a broken heart, were soft as a dawn’s first glow. Grace, whose bent frame and silver hair displayed survival of the darkest battles, while her laughter rang crisp and new like spring’s first rain. I looked on the frail face that mirrored tranquility itself. No one would ever have guessed the valleys she had passed through to bring her here today. Grace’s life had been wrought with trial after trial. Her own family had turned their backs on her. Sickness had plagued her body. The world had spat in her face, rejecting her in every way. But nothing had ever stifled her passion. Nothing had ever interfered with her unending kindness for the weak, her loyalty to the broken, or her faithfulness to the Lord. Grace’s life of true devotion and courage had become a source of shelter. When walking the streets, shivering in the cold, or lost on the highway bound for strife, somehow Grace’s warmth had always led me back to the welcoming kitchen that smelled of apple pie and love. She had always said it was her own tribulations that had taught her to look upon others differently than the world did. It was Grace’s faith that guided her, undaunted, through any circumstance. “Life has been hard,” she had always said. “But the Shepherd has kept me safe all my years. He has shown me miracles and wonders of His love, and He’s revealed His path to the Eternal Kingdom. I will fear no evil.” It had been through Grace’s witness that I had been led to Christ. The chains of my heart had been unlocked, the doors had been opened, and the shelves that held all my teenage years full of hate and anger had been washed clean. I had found a new family - one that would never leave or forsake me. Grace had taught me love. She had taught me peace beyond all understanding and a forgiveness like no other. She had walked through the fire of sorrow, but showed me how to find happiness in any circumstance. She had begged for mercy from God to stop the daily torment of hate towards her beliefs, and yet she showed me the true heart of a servant. She had lived, persecuted by her family for her giving spirit, but she taught me that living for God made it all worthwhile. Grace had walked through valleys that I dared not even think about. But satan had not won. I choked on a muffled sob as Grace’s hand lightly slipped from mine to rest peacefully next to her still form. I reached out to touch her soft hair one more time, and bent down to brush my lips on her cheek. She had feared no evil, and now she was Home. She was with the God whom she had given her life to so many years before. I would miss Grace - the world seemed a less cheerful place without her smile. But I knew I was not alone. God had sent Grace to me so that I might believe and share in that eternal joy. Though my mentor was gone, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord was with her, and I looked forward to the day when I would pass through my own valley and see my friend’s face again. Sometimes in life, we are able to see glimpses of God's grace through His people. There are those that enter our lives, showing us the true way to live...showing us what life is really about. Let us never forget what they have taught. Let their words not be in vain. May we all be Grace's in other people's lives. Show them the love of God. Show them true peace...true joy...true grace. February 05 Lucifer's Battle“Sire! Your Majesty, Oh Great -” “Enough!” The dark creature trembled at the roar. “A-a-p-pologies, Your Greatness.” “What is it, Gossiper?” “I bring you news.” A smile creased Gossiper’s face as he eagerly flexed his claws. “News of him, whose name we do not speak.” “Oh?” The great body shifted in his granite throne, his yellow eyes flickering with curiosity. “Go on.” Gossiper leaned in closer. “Crucifixion,” he whispered. “That’s what they’re predicting.” “Ahh…” Lucifer stroked his black beard in thought, while stirring a stale breeze with his wings. Gossiper looked at his master’s face expectantly. “Well aren’t we…I-I mean, will we…you know…get to him first?" “Of course not!” Lucifer retorted. “Let him die on a cross! I want to see him suffer! I want to see the Creator turn his back on him for once.” He angrily spat at the floor, making the stones steam. “But…the prophecy.” “Prophecy, smophecy. It will never work.” Lucifer lit a fire in his hand, illuminating the room with an eerie glow. He stood and hurled the flaming ball to the opposite end of the hall. Sparks flew in all directions until the wall burned a dull red. Gossiper’s jaw dropped as he stared at the lifelike mural that writhed with Lucifer’s own vast collection of souls. “See that?” Lucifer asked. “That is what will make the Creator’s plan fail. He thinks he has it all under control, but this is what I have. Whatever I command, my followers obey. In no time they’ll overtake that pathetic earth and I’ll be the winner.” Lucifer sank down in his throne again, as the room returned to its original dark state. “Let him, whose name we do not speak, die. It shall be my pleasure to watch.” Gossiper swallowed hard, hesitance shaking his hideous form. “But…” Lightning flashed in Lucifer’s eyes. “But what?!” “But…the prophecy says he will rise again. Shouldn’t we kill him off ourselves to make sure it’s done right?” Lucifer laughed, sending tremors through his throne room. “He can raise others from the dead, but how can he raise himself? Even the Creator has limitations. Besides, those are my people controlling this chain of events, not the stupid prophecy. I don’t care what the prophecy says -the Creator’s plan won’t work. I’m the one in control. He, whose name we do not speak, is dying because of me, not because of any ridiculous plan. I called the shots on this one.” Lucifer continued to sit on his throne throughout the night and the next day, gazing upon the earth. The sounds of nails piercing Christ’s flesh echoed through the darkness, and the demon breathed a contented sigh. More than two days later, the grave was still silent. “It’s over!” Lucifer shouted gleefully. “I have won! The earth is mine! The Creator’s one and only is dead! I told you his plan wouldn’t work! I told you the prophecy was rubbish!” He quickly called his swarm of demons. “Come! Today we celebrate. Tomorrow we begin retrieving our plunder.” Gossiper timidly looked out to see the earth as the party raged on behind him. Something was happening. A strange wind blew, signaling death - but not a human’s death. All at once, a flash of white light temporarily blinded Gossiper, and suddenly he saw the horror he knew to be true. Fear surged through his body. Unable to control himself, he collapsed onto the floor. “Hey, Gossiper.” Deceit staggered over to the limp form. “Hey.” He kicked his fellow demon. “What’s with you?” Gossiper could only manage a whisper. “He’s back. We shall all perish now.” Deceit took a haphazard look out the window, but shrieked as he saw the truth. “No!” “What’s going on?” Lucifer joined the other two, a strange sense of fear creeping into his veins. Deceit pointed. “The Creator’s plan, my master…it has worked. He, whose name we do not speak, is walking again. And the people are following. The prophecy is being fulfilled.” Lucifer threw himself onto the floor, pounding his fist into the stones. “No! It was my plan! His can’t work! It just can’t!” Rising in a burst of anger, Lucifer halted his celebration and summoned his army. “Fine,” he seethed. “If Jesus wants a battle, he’s got one.” Gossiper looked up from the floor, still unable to move. “It’s no use,” he whispered. “Your plans will never work.” January 19 Unexpected RescueJim stared down at the rushing water, his heart seeming to beat twice as fast as the surging current. The swelling surface indicated the ripping undertow that awaited him. He held his breath and loosened his grip on the cold steel, the toes of his tennis shoes creeping towards the end of the narrow ledge. “God,” he shouted, “If you really don’t want me to die, then show me why I should live!” Nothing. The silence confirmed the emptiness he felt in his heart. A wind sent chills down his spine and he glanced from side to side, making sure no one was on the bridge but himself. As always, he was alone. Not even God seemed to be around anymore. Pulling his jacket tightly around his shoulders, Jim ignored the tear that ran down his face. Anything was better than the life he had - even death. He shivered and took a step forward, holding one foot out into oblivion. Just as he started to let himself fall, a cry for help jolted him to attention. He stepped back, his ears listening intently. Scanning the area, his eyes caught sight of a woman along the riverbank, frantically running back and forth, yelling and pointing towards the raging water. Forgetting his reason for being on the wrong side of the bridge railing, Jim suddenly spotted a pink object floating southward. All too quickly, he realized that it was a jacket, wrapped around a young child who was desperately trying to stay afloat. “Help!” The mother’s shout sent Jim’s adrenaline rushing, his mind forgetting all else. Before he could think, he was falling headfirst, his arms stretched out in a dive. The icy water was a shock to his body, and he struggled to bring himself to the surface, gasping for air. “Help me!” The little girl’s cry was stronger than the river’s current and aimed Jim to her helpless form. “Hang on!” he shouted. Turned around, pulled under and dragged along like a rag doll, Jim didn’t know how he was able to grasp the child’s hand. His arms ached, his legs went numb, and his lungs screamed for a rest. He could feel the girl pressed snuggly against his chest as he kicked and groped for land. At last, his hand reached something solid. “Come on, take a deep breath.” Jim patted the little girl’s back as he knelt beside her. He struggled to keep himself from shaking as the cold drove right to his bones. “It’s okay now, you’re going to be fine.” The girl shivered uncontrollably and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It was s-s-so scary,” she managed through tears of fright. “B-b-but you saved me. I thought I was going to-to die.” “Shh, it’s okay.” For what little good it would do, Jim took off his drenched jacket to give the child another layer of protection against the biting wind. “There now, calm down.” He could see the mother running towards them, and only then realized how far downstream they had drifted. As he held the girl close to comfort her, his heart felt as if it would burst. If he had not been on that bridge, this little girl would probably have died, robbing the world of another sweet soul. And if she had not been in the river…he would surely have died. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” His own inner cries reached heavenward. He had asked for a sign - had it taken something as drastic as this for him to see that God wanted him to live? Had it taken the experience of losing himself to save another to understand that he still had worth? Perhaps there was hope after all. Perhaps - “Thank you, oh, thank you!” The mother had reached them and caught her daughter up in a hug. “Oh, my baby, are you okay?” She finally seemed to notice Jim and gave him a tearful smile. “How can I ever thank you? You saved her life.” Jim stared at her in thought, and then shook his head. “I didn’t save your little girl’s life, Ma’am…she saved mine.” Is your life in turmoil? Have you felt abandoned? Worthless? Unworthy? Don't give up. God loves you, and will never stop loving you. Turn to Him now, give your life to Him, and He will give you rest beyond your wildest imagination. November 01 From Chalk to SmilesI stared out of the window to see my daughter scribbling with her chalk on the sidewalk. Lydia had created sunshines, flowers, and some shapes that I thought were smiley faces. I was glad that her drawings reflected happiness - at least she had settled in well. But me? I sighed and continued to dry the dishes, putting them away one by one in the cupboards. No, if I were the one drawing outside, my pictures might reflect something less than happy. I’d come to the country in search of a new life. I had wanted to forget the past - the things that still stalked me in my dreams. I had just wanted to start fresh. But things had been harder than expected. So much for the romantic ideas of a secluded cottage in the countryside, accented by a white picket fence and smelling of fresh flowers. It had been more like a brick prison in the middle of nowhere, overgrown with weeds and smelling of rotten radishes - or something like that. A month later, my hands were blistered, my face was sunburned, my back felt as if it would never straighten out again, and the place hadn’t seemed to change a bit. “Lord,” I thought, “Why did You put me here anyway? Why haven’t things turned around like they were supposed to?” Before I could reflect more, a low rumble of thunder broke into my thoughts. I quickly glanced back outside as a large raindrop splattered into the window. The sun was gone, replaced by menacing clouds. “Lydia!” I called to my daughter as I rushed outside. “Come on, Sweety. It’s starting to storm.” “But Mommy, my -” I grabbed Lydia’s hand to pull her into the house. “I don’t want you getting soaked,” I chided. Lydia managed to drag her bucket of chalk along, and as soon as I’d closed the door behind us, the clouds broke loose. Rain pelted the ground in sheets, filling the sidewalk cracks and shooting out of the drain spout. Lydia and I watched out of the kitchen window, as her beautiful drawings were transformed into rivers of color that ran into the grass. Forgotten chalk sticks became mounds of mush, dissolving before our eyes. Lydia’s bottom lip trembled a little as she watched her hours of work being washed away. “I’m sorry, Honey.” I gave her a gentle squeeze. “You can always draw more pictures when it’s dry.” Lydia only nodded and exited the room to find something else to occupy her mind. Not five minutes later, the rain abruptly stopped. As if it had never started at all, the sun came out again, making the moist air warm and fresh. Lydia’s pictures had been destroyed and my housework interrupted just for that? I was finishing up the dishes and returning to my dismal thoughts of life when I heard Lydia shriek from the living room. “Mommy! Look!” I rushed into the adjoining room, confused at my daughter’s excited tone. “What? What is it?” “Look!” Lydia pointed out the window. “I found my chalk. God just wanted to play with it too!” Not knowing what to expect, I followed her pointing finger to see the most vibrant rainbow I’d ever seen. Backdropped by the dark clouds that had already passed by, the colors shone bright and clear from one end of the arc to the other. I was so captivated by the scene that it took me a moment to realize the depth of my daughter’s perception. Instead of dwelling on the fact that her artwork was gone forever, she had taken the time to look around her, see the beauty, and find the good within the situation. If my six-year-old could do that, why on earth couldn’t I? Lydia scrambled to head back outdoors, but I stayed at the window. I noticed the rolling hills, the gentle breeze, and the peace of the countryside. All at once, I knew that not only had the rainbow been meant for Lydia, but for me as well. “I’m sorry, Lord,” I silently prayed. “I know You’re here through it all and that You’ve got a plan for me. Thank You for sending this rainbow to remind me that things aren’t all bad.” Lydia had received a rainbow to let her know that things were okay despite the loss of her chalk. I had received a rainbow to let me know that things were going to be okay despite a rough start. There was good to be found here. I could depend on the Lord to see me through. October 10 What Would You Give?It was dark, but I didn’t remember seeing the sunset. All around me, people were talking and laughing, despite the long lines that I’d been standing in for what seemed an eternity. We all just wanted to get through that door. The brick building had no windows, so no one could see what went on inside. But anyone who entered eventually came out with glorious riches. Everything from diamond jewelry to speedboats. All I really knew about this event was that my friend was a millionaire now, and he’d told me that the source of his wealth would only be in town one more night. I aimlessly counted heads as the line slowly moved forward. There were still several hundred, but thankfully I was only feet from the door. As I gained a clear view of the entrance, I noticed a lone figure standing to the side who was not joining in the fun. As the man in front of me finally had his chance to open the door, the stranger laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him just long enough to whisper in his ear. The man laughed then disappeared inside without a second thought. It would be my turn next. I could just imagine what my friends would say tomorrow when I showed up as wealthy as they. I didn’t know how all this worked, but it couldn’t be too bad or all these people wouldn’t be here, leaving as happily as they were. I noticed the strange man staring at me. His eyes were soft, but they pierced like daggers. Before I could think, the door in front of me opened. As if in a trance, I stepped forward, but was stopped by the stranger. “Death,” he whispered in my ear. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” I didn’t have time to feel the fear creeping up on me as I was shoved from behind by an impatient woman. “Come on! Move!” I was pushed through the doorway. The building was pitch black, except for a red lamp sitting on a table in the center of the room. A man stood behind it, and beckoned me. “Come. Tell me what your heart desires.” I approached and squinted past the light, but I couldn’t see his face. His voice was hollow yet enticing. I told him all I wanted and more. When I was finished, I was handed a pen. “Sign your name to receive all you ever wanted.” As I stared down at the book full of names, suspicion finally made its way into my consciousness. “What’s the catch?” A slight shrug moved the shadows. “No catch. All I get in return is your soul.” The pen hovered above the page as my heart rate increased. Sweat broke out on my palms as I mentally weighed my options. How badly did I want wealth? How badly did I want popularity? I sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. “No!” I screamed, not fully aware yet that I was alone in my bedroom. Breathing hard, I stared around at the trash on the floor, the empty beer cans on the nightstand, and the cigarette still smoldering in its tray. I slowly rolled my legs out of bed and sat, trying to sort through my dream, and yet afraid of the conclusion I’d come to. Somehow, my eyes caught the book under my bed. I instinctively pulled it out, not even remembering having put it there. I gazed at my mess then back at the Bible. My mother had said it held all the answers. But I’d ignored her and had sought money and fame. I’d given my soul to the world. I’d sold it in hopes of wealth, but in the end, all I had to show was poverty. A tear escaped and ran down my cheek as I desperately flew through the pages, searching for some relief…some answers. Frantic that I could not find it on my own, I threw myself onto the floor and wept. “Lord,” I cried, “I don’t want this world any more. I want peace and happiness, not money and power. I want my soul to be Yours.” The battle had been won. My soul was free at last, caught up from the clutches of death I had so narrowly escaped. I would never forget that dream. What would you give? Would you be willing to risk your soul for the things of this world? If not, I hope you have accepted Jesus Christ as your Savior. If you would be willing to take the risk, please think again...the world lasts a lifetime...your soul will last an eternity.There are only two routes to choose from - choose the right one. September 27 A God-Driven "180"There was nothing she could do. Carrie stood helplessly by Brad’s hospital bed, listening to the beeps and whirring machines. The doctor had said it wouldn’t be long. Carrie’s tears ran down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse to make their marks that went unnoticed. Nothing mattered anymore. She was losing all she had. As the hours passed, so did Brad’s life. The confusion muddled Carrie’s thoughts as she pulled her black dress over her head. Her tears were gone now, replaced by a clenched jaw that showed her determination not to allow her emotions to take over. But grief had a hold on her heart and was not letting go. ****** Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The small apartment became a fortress of anger, the loud music and thick smoke trying to drown out the cries of a hurting soul. Alcohol and drugs became Carrie’s friends and her grief transitioned into periods of blissful forgetfulness as she drifted further away from life itself.****** “It’s Allison again, Carrie. This is the fourth time I’ve called. I know who can help you. Please call me back.”Carrie listened to her best friend’s voice, dully aware of the concern etched in the recorded phone message. What did Allison know? Allison had a wonderful life! She had a house in the country, a great husband, two kids and enough money that she didn’t have to work! How could she possibly know what Carrie needed? But she wouldn’t give up, and Carrie knew it. ****** Carrie stared into her coffee cup, her mind clouded with the noises of the street café.“Did you hear me?” Carrie finally looked up across the table at Allison. “Huh?” Allison sighed, but the care never left her eyes. “I said He loves you, and can make you feel better.” “I feel fine,” Carrie lied. “Besides, what’s he got to offer, other than a bunch of rules anyway?” Allison grinned. “Life, Carrie. A full, wonderful life that can last forever. All these things you’re using…the drugs, alcohol, smoke…they’re all masking your pain, but they’re killing you. He can make you whole again.” Allison scooted the thick book closer to Carrie’s elbow. “Please read this. For me?” Carrie rolled her eyes. She hadn’t touched a Bible since she’d been a kid. What good would it do her now? But if she didn’t read at least part of it, Allison would just keep pestering her. “Okay, fine. But I know this is all rubbish.” ****** The pages wouldn’t turn fast enough for Carrie’s hungry eyes. The more she read, the thirstier she grew for that peace…that life…this man, Jesus. Maybe there was something to Him after all. The words on the thin pages struck Carrie’s heart like nothing before. They pierced her soul, letting in light where none had been for what seemed an eternity.Carrie slowly opened her eyes, still kneeling on the floor, the Bible clutched tightly in her hand. She didn’t know how long she’d been there, but didn’t care. She’d felt the arms of forgiveness. She’d experienced the pure joy shooting through her very being as she’d been lifted from despair. Jesus was real. He was the ultimate Healer, and had cleansed her soul. She was free. Free at last. ****** “That’s how the Lord rescued me…and He’ll rescue you too if you’ll let Him.” Carrie picked up her notes and walked off the stage as several people clapped their appreciation. She took a deep breath and stared up at the poster that had been pinned to the church wall, announcing her arrival. “From Great Despair, to Great Joy.”Carrie grinned at her memories. God had given her a life story for a reason, and now it was up to her to spread it. The story of Jesus working in real lives in real ways wasn’t the Good News…it was the Great News. September 17 I Heard a WalkI sat in the back pew of the church, unable to distinguish my surroundings. I had been brought by a friend, but she had gone to speak with someone else, leaving me alone. Voices and laughter echoed through what I imagined to be a room with a high ceiling, and I sank back in my seat, automatically beginning to search for specific sounds. It had started out as a child’s game, to keep myself entertained at social functions. But it had become more of a retreat - somewhere I could go in my mind to ease the discomfort I felt when in crowds. Analyzing the cluttered sounds, I found the first one I wanted. The hardwood floor made it easy. My hearing pinpointed the footsteps walking quickly past my pew. They were heavy - a man, I thought. The sound was sharp, indicating dress shoes, and the walker strode with a purpose. Perhaps it was the minister. I found a lighter step of a woman close by. Her shoes made an uncomfortable tapping, and I knew they must be high heels. The footsteps paced back and forth in rhythm with a nasal voice, and I wondered if she was the church gossip. A quieter sound caught my attention, and I struggled to concentrate. A child was passing by. The clicking of tiny shoes was almost overpowered by a much stronger step close behind. I imagined a man holding the fingers of his child as the youngster awkwardly went forward, not yet having coordination to walk with confidence. The hurried footsteps of my friend approached, and I felt her sit down next to me. “They’re going to show a video clip,” she whispered as the room quieted. “Do you want me to tell you what’s going on?” I shrugged, not caring. I hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, knowing I would be bored. Now I didn’t even have footsteps to keep myself occupied. I was wrong. I could hear music playing, and suddenly, the sound of soldiers marching overtook the scene in my mind. I listened to them shout and hurl insults at someone. I tried to sort through the noise and understand. Someone was in pain. They were walking - no, trudging. Their agonized groans mixed in with the sounds of spitting and jeering. The labored footsteps were constantly interrupted by a stumble or fall. I pictured a man with a great weight on his shoulders, being forced uphill. The images created in my mind were gruesome. I wanted to close my ears, but a desire to understand won out. “What’s happening?” I whispered to my friend. “They’re showing a movie about Jesus,” she replied. Her voice was strained, etched with emotion. “Jesus?” was my hoarse response. Jesus has always been described to me in the same sentence as peace, love and happiness. This was not a happy scene at all! I was confused. “Why is he letting that man suffer?” I asked. It took a moment for my friend to answer. “No…that man is Jesus.” I was stunned. Suddenly I heard the sound of nails and I realized what was going on. The crowd chanted, “Crucify him!” I was too shocked to cry as the scene continued until a voice quietly, yet boldly proclaimed, “It is finished.” The room became deathly quiet, but I wanted to jump up and ask why Jesus had suffered so much. I had heard He was sinless. Why had He been nailed to a cross? My ears listened with new intrigue as finally the minister answered my questions. But all the sermon did was evoke a gut-wrenching feeling that I should have been the one to take that walk. It should have been me trudging up that dreaded hill. I finally realized the need for a Savior. I had listened to footsteps all my life. It had been a game for when I became bored, and my theories about the walkers were faded and lost. But today…today I had heard a walk that I would never forget. Jesus died for YOU. His suffering was real. His death was real. His resurrection, overcomming sin was real. The rest is up to you. May 24 Superglue“Mommy!” My five-year-old screamed at the top of her lungs. I raced down the hall, my heart pounding in my chest. What had happened? Had Laura hurt herself? My husband was at work - what if it was an emergency? Reaching Laura’s bedroom, I saw my daughter sitting cross-legged on the floor, her favorite toy horse in her hand. Tears were streaming down her face as she chocked on a sob as if trying to suppress her grief. “Laura, what on earth is wrong, Honey?” I knelt in front of her, bewildered by the scene. After a few more sniffles, Laura finally revealed that her once perfect horse now only had three legs. I had to swallow a laugh as my initial fear was replaced by relief. No one was hurt. That is…except for poor Starlight. “It’s okay,” I soothed, stroking Laura’s hair. “What happened?” Laura wiped her nose with the back of her hand and bravely presented the horse’s missing leg. “I was playing. And…and Starlight’s leg broke off. I didn’t mean to!” Laura began to cry all over again, and I scooted closer, to cradle her until the sobs quieted. “You know we can fix her,” I said. “Really?” Laura’s eyes widened. “Uh-huh.” I knew that a touch of glue would be Laura’s own little miracle. “Come into the kitchen. Bring Starlight and her leg, and we’ll patch her right up.” Though a bit unsure of whether or not I could actually restore Starlight to health, Laura obediently followed me to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, Starlight stood proudly on the counter, her leg drying under a neon pink band-aid. I had fixed a toy, mended a broken leg, stopped a barrage of tears, and won another mommy award, thanks to a little dab of superglue. And then I thought…if only life was that easy. If only my mistakes, pitfalls and trials were as easily fixed. And yet - I possessed the strongest superglue of all. No matter how big my blunder, Jesus’ blood could fix it. No matter what heartaches life threw me, Jesus’ love could cover it. With a heart of repentance and a willingness to admit my faults, Christ’s sacrifice on the cross gave me an opportunity to wipe everything clean. Laura’s Starlight only needed a bit of glue. I had God’s own Son. April 10 Order in the Court!“Mr. Hampton, do you know why you are here today?” Mr. Jenkins asked. Mr. Hampton nodded to his lawyer. “Yes, sir.” “Can you tell the court?” “I’m here to defend my belief.” Mr. Jenkins sifted through a stack papers. “And what might that belief be?” “That God exists.” A low stirring of murmurs traveled across the stuffy courtroom. “Thank you.” Mr. Jenkins approached the stand. “Do you have any proof?” Mr. Hampton thought for a moment. “I have evidence of my faith.” “Objection!” The young prosecuting attorney flailed his arm in the air in attempt to attract the judge, in case his loud announcement failed to reach his ears. “The witness didn’t answer the question!” “Sustained,” the judge declared. “Please restate the question.” The defense lawyer apologized. “I’m sorry. Mr. Hampton, do you have any proof that God exists?” “No.” Whispers and nudges again made their rounds. The judge tapped his gavel on his desk. “Order, please.” Mr. Jenkins nodded. “Judge, may the witness freely explain himself?” “Of course. Please proceed. “ Mr. Hampton shifted in his seat. “What I have done has proven bad enough to have me arrested and brought here. But despite this treatment, I cannot back down.” “He’s admitting his guilt!” The prosecution attorney spouted. “Mr. Figs,” the judge reprimanded, “let him continue.” Mr. Figs plopped back down in his chair, crossing his arms to pout. “I cannot prove the existence of God,” Mr. Hampton continued, “because He does not personify Himself as our tangible minds can comprehend. I can only give a tangible example of God’s power. Take space, for example. It has been said that it all simply ‘happened.’ That everything came to being as a result of an accident. But I beg to differ.” “Objection!” Mr. Figs was on his feet again. “The witness has already stated he has no proof!” “Overruled,” the judge stated sharply. “Mr. Hampton, continue.” Mr. Hampton rubbed a sweaty palm on his pant leg. “Yes, take space for example. How many stars are there? Billions. We think we’ve counted them all, and then find more. We thought our galaxy was the only one, then we discovered there were more. Think of how our planets hang together in orbit. Now scientists even believe a planet exists beyond Pluto.” “Objection!” By now, Mr. Figs was red in the face from his exhausting jumps out of his chair. “They haven’t yet proven a planet exists!” “Sustained.” The judge looked at Mr. Hampton. “Please state facts when referring to scientific discovery.” Mr. Hampton tried to start again. “I need not use more evidence than the few plants we have discovered. None orbit too fast or slow. They never collide. They never get too far away from the sun. And all are so very different in composition. Take Mars and Jupiter. And then Earth. Earth has every element perfect for human life.” “Objection!” Mr. Figs desperately interrupted. “If Earth were perfect, how could humans die every day?” “Overruled,” the judge ordered. Mr. Hampton ignored Mr. Fig’s observation. “Outer space is full of wonder and majesty. Just the fact that we don’t burn up from the sun or freeze to death should be evidence enough of God’s ultimate wisdom, whether He used a big bang or not. Think of the moon that reflects the sun just right to guide us at night. The sun that sustains its heat and light without man’s help.” “Objection!” Mr. Fig fought to loosen his tie. “That the sun sustains itself is beside the point.” The judge rolled his eyes. “Overruled.” Mr. Hampton attempted to conclude “I chose space to talk about because it is the closest thing to a tangible form of God’s power I could think of. But there’s evidence out there that we can see every day. Trees, mountains, oceans, new life. Everything working together to sustain us. I may not be able to prove God’s existence, but I challenge anyone to disprove it. It says in the first book of the Bible that God created the Heavens and the Earth. I believe it with my whole heart and will not deny His power.” Silence. Mr. Jenkins glanced at the prosecution. “Your witness.” Mr. Figs stared at Mr. Hampton. “I…have no further questions.” The judge rapped his gavel on the desk. “I find the defendant guilty of expressing his belief in God. However, there will be no sentence served until one can disprove his theory. This court is adjourned.” January 23 The Letters (Part 3)(To see Parts 1&2, scroll down) Dear Lizzy, Thank you for your letter. I enjoyed reading it very much. I am God. People have many names for me, but you can call me God. Your mama still believes in me. She knows I am real, but her heart is hurting because of bad things that happened a long time ago. Sometimes grownups leave me, but don’t worry - your mama will be okay. Your Sunday school teacher is right. I did make everything. In the very beginning, I created the heavens and the earth. If you go outside at night and see all those stars, I made all of those. If you sit in the grass and see all those tiny blades of grass, I made those too. That big tree in your backyard - I planted that many years ago. Its very presence is my signature. I hope your mama lets you go back to Sunday school. I’m pretty sure she will. I’m glad you liked going to Sunday school and learning about me. I enjoyed you being there too. Of course I love you! No matter where people come from, or what they’ve done in their lives, I love them. But it is up to them to accept my love. Some people don’t want to accept it. I hope you do. Oh, there are many, many stories in my book. The one about the lions is one of my favorites. A man name Daniel believed in me so much that I helped him stay alive in a whole den of lions! My book is called the Bible. You can read all of those stories and more. There are a lot of important messages that I give in the Bible. Some are hard to understand, but I wrote them just for you. Your mama has a Bible - you can ask her where it is. Yes, I do have a son. His name is Jesus. He isn’t in school - he was there with me when I created the world. He loves you too, and he even died on a cross just for you. He and I do live in heaven right now, and we’re making a place just for you. It’s not finished yet, but when it is, Jesus will come and get you. I would love to come to your house. If you invite me, I will be there with you always. I will try to help your mama. She has a lot on her mind, but she knows where I am. You just keep asking me about her, and I’ll keep working on it. I love you, Lizzy. Know that I am always here for you, and never give up. Keep in touch. Love, God “Wow!” Lizzy smiled from ear to ear. “He is real!” I wiped a tear with the back of my hand, and nodded. God had known all along that I’d read these letters today. He’d known exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it. He’d given us His own little miracle, just because He cared. Now that was a God worth following. I stared back at my daughter, still in awe of this whole afternoon. “Hey, Lizzy, there’s a black leather book under my bed in an old shoebox. It’s a Bible. Go get it and let’s read some stories.” Without question, Lizzy bounded down the hall to my room. Supper could wait. I had so much to talk to the preacher about now anyway, that supper seemed quite unimportant. “Thank You, God,” I whispered. “Thank You for waiting for me.” Wouldn’t it be cool to get a letter from God? Well, God usually doesn’t write physical letters to us, but that doesn’t mean He doesn’t want to communicate. God loves each and every one of us, and wants a relationship with us. He is real, and He is the only way to eternal life. Have you invited Him over lately? January 20 The Letters (Part 2)(To see Part 1, scroll down) I scurried through the house, running my dust rag over the knick-knacks on the shelves, running the vacuum through the hall, and picking up laundry. Of all times, why did the preacher have to be coming for a visit now? It was all my fault. I shouldn’t have let Lizzy go to Sunday school with the neighbors. I didn’t want to spoil her fun, but it would just complicate things now. Bending down, I scooped up an armful of laundry on my daughter’s floor and tossed them into the waiting basket. “Why can’t she pick up her clothes?” I grumbled quietly. As I straightened up, I noticed a sheet of paper lying by her bed. It had obviously been folded with care, but had been dropped and then buried under the laundry. Curious, I picked it up to scan my seven-year-old’s handwriting. Perhaps it was a lost assignment for school that I should have seen anyway. As I read the lines though, my heart caught in my throat. Line by line, tears started to well up in my eyes. See? I knew I shouldn’t have sent her to Sunday school. And yet…something deep down wasn’t angry at all. Something deep down tugged at my heart to finally let go of my hate and be enveloped in the love I so greatly wanted. Line by line, I saw a poor little girl, deprived of something so wonderful, words could not express. And it was because of me. Lizzy didn’t understand. She didn’t understand the hurt that had built up in my heart. She didn’t understand that I’d allowed myself to love God at one time. But when He’d taken Lizzy’s daddy away, I’d decided loving God wasn’t worth it. I knew I’d been wrong. I knew some things just happened and that it wasn’t “God’s fault.” But I’d shut Him out, determined not to hurt again. But then I’d hurt all the more. Five years later, my heart hurt so badly, that I knew now Lizzy was feeling my misery. How had I let myself come this far? What had happened to me? These childlike questions my daughter had written were so innocent. So sweet and pure. And yet they hit me like a slap in the face. I’d had questions like her once. I’d gone looking and had found the answers. A whole new world had opened up to me, full of love and life and joy. Now I was on a road not bound for heaven. I hadn’t contemplated these things for a long time, but suddenly, I knew it was time. My knees hit the floor with a thud as my face was buried in my hands. Tears flowed freely through my fingers, dampening the carpet below. “God, I am so sorry,” I sobbed quietly. “You didn’t leave me. I left You. How can You ever love me again?” Kneeling in full submission to my maker, I felt warmth beginning to seep into my heart. I could almost physically feel a mighty, loving arm wrap itself around my shaking body to draw me into eternal comfort and mercy. I don’t know how much time passed, but as I lifted my head, I felt peace that I hadn’t in years. God was still there, and still loved me. Through the words of a little girl, He’d reminded me of how much I needed Him. Now I needed to get to know Him again and start living my life like I should. But what about Lizzy? Was she really planning on mailing the letter? Did I need to explain to her that God didn’t just write letters and send them through the mail? Gathering up the laundry basket, I continued my cleaning, now bothered by how I should approach the subject with Lizzy. As I was preparing supper, working especially hard on what we were having with the preacher and his wife, the doorbell rang. Oh, no. They couldn’t be early! Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I headed for the door, knowing my appearance didn’t mean much anyway. Opening the door, I was surprised to see our mailman standing there. “Yes?” I asked cautiously. “Here, Ma’am,” he said, extending an envelope. “I found this on the post office steps this afternoon. Don’t know how it got there, but I recognized your daughter’s name, so I brought it over.” “Oh, well, uh, thank you,” I responded, slightly confused. I accepted the letter and watched as the mailman walked away. When he was gone, I shut the door and looked at the envelope. I know the color must have drained from my face. The “To” address indeed had Lizzy’s name on it. The upper left-hand corner simply said, “God” on the first line, and “Heaven” on the second. “Mama? What’s that?” I looked down at my daughter, whose eyes were full of curiosity. “Well, Hon, looks like you got a letter.” Lizzy started bouncing up and down, excited. “From who? From who?” “Well…” I smiled and handed her the envelope. “It says it’s from God.” “Wow!” Lizzy’s eyes widened like huge saucers. “Cool!” I shook my head in wonderment. “Can I read it with you?” Lizzy nodded emphatically. “You read it to me,” she said, handing it back to me. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I tore into the envelope and drew out a piece of paper with the loveliest handwriting I’d ever seen... (Part 3 coming soon...) January 16 The Letters (Part 1)Dear God, This is Lizzy. I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I met you a few weeks ago at Sunday school. My teacher said when I prayed, I talked to you, but who are you, anyway? My mama says that you’re not real. She said that you left her a long time ago. She seemed kind of sad, but when I asked if I could meet you and fix the problem, she told me it was a silly idea. My Sunday school teacher said you made everything. Is that true? You must be a pretty big guy to do all that. Did you make that giant tree in my backyard too? Why didn’t you sign it? Mama says I might not get to go back to Sunday school. I liked it though. My teacher said I could come back if I wanted to. She said she was going to tell me about your love. Do you love me? I didn’t ask Mama about that. My teacher told me there were a lot of stories in your book about lions, bi g fish, queens and giants. They sound really cool. I think it’s neat that you wrote a book. What’s it called? My teacher said you have a son. What’s his name? What grade is he in? My teacher told me that you and your son live in heaven. Can I come visit sometime? You can come over here if you want. Maybe you and Mama can work things out. I don’t know what happened, but I want her to be happy again. Can you help her? Well, my mama is calling me for supper, so I have to go. I’m not sure what Heaven’s address is, but I hope you get this. Love, Lizzy. (Part 2 coming soon...) January 01 Cleaning Day“Out with the old, in with the new,” I quoted my mother as I stood in front of my closet. Cleaning day. Ugh. What would be the first to go? The old shoes I never wore anymore? That sweater with the hole in the sleeve? What about that box of letters from my ex-boyfriend? I hated cleaning day. But…it was a new year, and it was high time I got rid of some of my junk. It was cluttering up my room, and I had new things that needed space. I glanced over to my empty wastebasket. “Hungry?” I asked. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * “Where are we going to put him?!” I looked up at my husband pleadingly. “I don’t know. We’ll find room.” “But we don’t have room,” he argued. “Not with all the other junk we’ve got in this house.” I glanced down at the shaggy dog who met my gaze with a mournful stare. “Aw, Jeff. We’ve got to keep him. He doesn’t have a home.” My husband sighed and I knew he was weighing his options. “Well…I suppose he could have that one corner of the kitchen.” I smiled and started to speak, but he cut me off. “But we have to clean it up first. Those boxes have to go, your old typewriter needs to go, and for goodness sake, we’ve got to get rid of that broken lamp!” I grinned to myself as my mother’s words came to me again. “Out with the old, in with the new.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Things weren’t going as planned. I had my family and a few friends, but it wasn’t enough anymore. I was surrounded by people and yet I felt alone. My life was on a fairly even keel and yet it felt topsy-turvy. It felt stale. It felt old and worthless. But without it, I would be empty… Jesus took a good look at my heart and shook His head. “There just isn’t enough room in there for me.” “But, Jesus,” I argued, “I need all those things.” Jesus took a closer look. “You need that bitterness against Aunt Susie for breaking your favorite teacup?” “Well, I…” “You need that hate for Joe Smith for chasing you in grade school?” Jesus’ eyes widened. “And you’re still mad at Jeff for accidentally letting the dog chew your shoes?” “They were expensive!” I argued. Jesus shook his head. “You’ve got a stack of hurts shoved into the corner, a pile of worry in front of the window, a bit of pride stuck on the ceiling, and the floor is covered with little sorrows and grief.” “But, Jesus,” I cried, “I don’t know what to do with it all! I want you here, but where to I put all this stuff?” “Give it to me,” Jesus answered. “I’ll wipe away the grudges you hold. I’ll heal those hurts of yours too. Your worries are as good as gone, and that pride? Once I move in, it’ll leave on its own. As far as those sorrows and grief…well, you just leave them to me and I’ll make everything okay again.” “Out with the old, in with the new,” I murmured. I knew what I wanted. “Jesus, make yourself at home.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Jesus wants to live in our hearts, but we have to make room for Him first. Is your heart crowded? Do you have room for Jesus? If not, it’s time for a cleaning day. Let Jesus do the cleaning. After all…who better than someone who can wash away sins? October 23 Rain“Lord…reign in me.” I sat back in the porch swing and looked out at the dark clouds. They mirrored my inner thoughts, despite my longing to have the Lord back in my life. A humid breeze stirred up dust from the driveway and sent it reeling across the yard. The scent of rain was so strong in the air that I could almost taste it. The grass in the yard begged for nourishment, parched and brown from the heat of the sun. I finally ambled wearily back into the house. It was so quiet, and I felt so alone. But the heart-wrenching truth was that I was the one to blame. If only I would have… The variables came at me like a swarm of mosquitoes, taunting me and jabbing me - painful reminders of my failings. I flopped down in a kitchen chair, mad at myself for the lack of motivation. I stared at the refrigerator that was full of crayon-drawn pictures made by my daughter. I missed the sound of her giggles. I missed the feel of her soft golden hair. A sharp gust of wind suddenly ripped through the open window, sending a pile of napkins fluttering to the floor. I moaned as I tried to clean up the mess before shutting the window in annoyance. Just as I’d finished, a low rumble of thunder shook the house. “Oh, God, we need this rain,” I prayed aloud. “My garden is going to die.” But instead of feeling peace from asking my Maker to provide, I felt empty and as dry as the earth itself. Heaving a deep sigh, I headed for the couch that had become my bed for more nights than I could count. The bedroom was too empty. But my husband was gone, his photograph on my nightstand just a horrid reminder of what I’d lost. The sound of rain pelting the roof brought me out of my self-pity for just a moment. Praise God, it was raining! I ran to the window that overlooked the backyard and garden. The rain came down in sheets, covering the ground in moist drops of blessings. A bolt of lightning made me jerk to attention as I prepared my ears for the deafening crack of thunder that followed. Though it rained, it was all but a peaceful moment. My soul, filled with turmoil, screamed for comfort. Tears began to flow down my face, silently at first. Soon they were accompanied by sobs. In anguish, I sank to the floor, misery enveloping me once again. “Lord!” I cried desperately. “Where are You?” Not receiving a response, I knew the answer. I had told Him to leave. Every time I’d lifted that shot glass to my mouth, I’d pushed Him away. Every night I’d arrived home late, I’d said I was the one in control, not Him. Every time I’d lied through my teeth, I’d denied my Lord. I had nothing left but a skeleton, the house bare of all warmth or love. I wanted God to wrap His strong arms around me like He once had. I needed Him to tell me that it was going to be okay. Partially composing myself, I rose to look outside again. Everything scorched, now looked alive. Everything dusty, now had been washed clean. A river of dirty water flowed into the ditch, as if literally carrying away the dryness. The sun peaked over a dark cloud, sending it’s golden rays to caress the lush greenness in warmth, signaling the storm’s end. Then…in that moment, I realized what I had witnessed. I stared at the filthy water being washed away forever. How could I ask God to reign in me, when I was still so dirty? I wanted Him back in my life, but there wasn’t room! I was sorry for the things I’d done; they’d pushed my family away, leaving me alone. But as I cried out to God, I still clung to my shameful dirt. I needed to be washed clean before the sun would shine to comfort me. Dropping to my knees I begged for forgiveness for the things I’d done. I prayed that I’d be washed clean in His love, that I might truly live again. Tears mingled in with my words, as I pleaded for His presence in my life again. “Lord…rain in me.” Jesus doesn't care where you've been or what you've done. He's simply waiting for you to run to Him, and give up the things that have held you down. He's there to send the rain to wash away the dirt. All you have to do is ask. October 07 The Motel from GodI trudged along the deserted highway and shifted my backpack’s weight on my shoulder. I didn’t know how far I’d walked, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that I wasn’t going back. I was tired of messing up. I was tired of doing everything wrong. Maybe leaving everything behind would be the right solution. It was well past midnight before I saw any headlights and I stuck out my thumb, begging for a ride. The semi’s breaks squeaked loudly as it slowed and pulled onto the shoulder in front of me. I jogged past the flashing lights, up to the cab and stopped as the trucker opened his door and stared down at me. “Need a lift?” He didn’t appear to be someone I should be scared of. Something about his voice was so reassuring. It was odd, but I nodded, desperate to get going faster than my walk had been taking me. “Yeah.” “Hop in.” It was several miles before any more was said, and I gazed about the inside of the dark cab, wondering how smart I’d really been to hitch a ride with a stranger. I knew all the horror stories my mother had told me. But somehow I wasn’t scared. “Little young to be out this late.” The man’s statement was directed as a question, but I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to be told for the millionth time that I was wrong. “I’m old enough.” “Hmm.” His sidelong glance said that he didn’t believe me. “Where ya headed?” “Nowhere,” I mumbled. The trucker probably didn’t believe that either, but this time it was the truth. I didn’t care where I ended up. Most likely no one else cared either. The ride was silent , except for the whir of the engine, until twenty minutes later as a building came into view. It’s lights gave off a warm glow as if enticing people to stop. “I can leave you here,” the trucker offered as he pulled into the parking lot. I nodded lamely. I’d wanted to go farther, but this was better than nothing. As I climbed down from the cab, the trucker waved. “Just tell her I brought ya. She’ll take care of ya.” I offered a confused smile of thanks and stared after the truck as it drove away. The wind picked up and I stuffed my hands in my pockets, wishing I’d brought a warmer jacket. Finally I headed to the door of the roadside motel. Maybe I could at least beg off a bed for the night. As I stepped inside, an elderly woman greeted me. “Come in, come in, child! Don’t be timid.” Her eyes sparkled with mischievous care and she gestured with a small and wrinkled hand. I thought it strange a woman of her age would be up this late. “Um…a trucker dropped me off and said that you’d - ” “Oh, yes,” she cut me off with one of the biggest smiles I’d ever seen. “Don’t worry about a thing. Follow me and I’ll get you something to eat. You’re all skin and bones!” My eyes widened in confusion at her generosity. What could I do but comply? Maybe my luck had finally turned. Not much later, I was wolfing down a ham sandwich. “Why don’t you tell me your story?” The lady sat on the other side of the table, her quiet gaze penetrating my very being. I studied her probing eyes, not wanting to give out too much information, lest she try to convince me to go back. “What story?” She gave me a stern look, assuring me she wasn’t stupid. “It’s not every night a runaway finds refuge in my motel. Why don’t you tell me why you left home?” She looked at me with such compassion and such sorrow as if she could see straight to my heart. As I met her caring gaze, my walls of defense seemed to crumble. I didn’t know why. I’d kept my emotions tucked deep away from the first steps of my journey until now. But that look she gave me… It was if all of my frustrations needed to be let out, and something told me I could trust her. I needed someone to talk to. I needed someone to tell me they cared. Hardly wondering how she’d figured me out, I broke down. With tears streaming down my face, I told her how I felt so worthless and could never do anything right for my parents. How I got picked on at school, how my grades were low, and how my parents were upset with me because of it. How I was a failure, and how I just didn’t want to go on. How instead of going home after school that afternoon, I’d started walking. “So I left,” I sniffed. The old lady sighed deeply. “Your parents are worried about you and they love you very much.” She shook her head. “You’re certainly not a failure.” “But…I’m no good at anything. And now, on top of everything else, my parents will hate me for running away.” “Your parents won’t hate you, and you’re good at many things. God made each of us for a purpose, and that includes you.” I blew my nose in a napkin. “God?” I hadn’t expected that. “Yes, of course,” the lady nodded matter-of-factly. “God loves you too, you know. And it breaks His heart to see you so discouraged.” She smiled and reached out to brush away another tear. “Chin up. Things go wrong in everyone’s lives. Just trust God to carry you through. Give Him your worries.” For some reason, her simple words were just what I needed to hear. Courage rose up in my heart with a longing for peace. But I didn’t know how to get there “How?” I asked lamely. The woman pulled out a Bible that she’d had tucked away on another chair, and for the next hour, we read, talked and prayed. The verses she read told me about how God loves the world. They told me about how God loved me so much that He gave His Son to die for me so that I might have life. The Scriptures told me that I didn’t have to carry my burden of sin around with me. I could repent, confess, and give my life to Jesus! I could be free! I learned that God didn’t care if I wasn’t the smartest person in my class. He didn’t care if I wasn’t as pretty, or if I was clumsy sometimes. I learned that I’d made a lot of mistakes…but none were beyond the cleansing of Jesus’ blood. Filled with a new hope for life and a realization of God’s amazing love, I gave my heart to Christ. I knew then that I did have a purpose. Despite my shorcomings, God loved me, and I needed to share that love. My parents needed to know God too, and I now had a mission… “…a trucker dropped me off at that motel on highway 87 where - ” “Wait,” my father interrupted the next day as I sat with him on our porch. After spending the night at the motel, I’d come home, ready to face life once again, and met with my parents’ open arms. “A motel?” “Yes,” I nodded. “About thirty-five miles from town. There was this lady who - ” “Sweetheart,” my father interrupted again, “no motels are on that highway.” Shocked, my thoughts came to a screeching halt. With humility and awe, I suddenly realized what had happened. I knew if I was to retrace my steps, I would find an empty lot with no tracks in sight. Glancing up to the heavens, a tear surfaced and I silently thanked God for His messengers. I’d realized His love the night before, and it had just been proven in a very real way. I gave my father a mischievous grin. “Have I got a story for you…” September 14 Goodbye, Hello “I hope to see you soon…” I stared at my best friend as she headed father and farther away from the dock, her voice fading in the breeze. How could she hope to see me soon? She knew I thought she was acting foolishly. Finally, I lost sight of her altogether as the ship crested the horizon, disappearing into the setting sun. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and trudged up the weather-beaten dock, the gloomy low-hanging clouds matching my mood. There were many other people there - some lingering, hoping to see the ship return, while others slowly trudged home as I did. Some crying, some screaming and some who hid their agony behind gruff exteriors. No one spoke, but we all knew why we were there. We all had experienced a loss that bonded us in a way. Some had lost their spouses, their children or parents. There were some, like me, who had lost lifelong friends. This whole thing just wasn’t fair! Jessica and I had done everything together, and now it was all over. We’d gone to school together, played together, and had sleepovers together, and now only the memories remained. The pain of losing her, and the loneliness had already set in. I hung my head as I walked the long road home, scuffing my feet on the pavement. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t cry to my parents - they’d told me all along what would happen. “That ship comes and goes more often than we like,” they’d said, “and Jessica is heading right for it. Just wait and see.” Why did they have to be right? I’d never admit it aloud, but for once, I wished I would have listened to them. If I would have, I wouldn’t be hurting so much now. By the time I reached home, everyone else was already in bed. The house was dark, and I crept up my stairs, trying not to wake anyone. As I turned on the light in my bedroom, a package on my nightstand caught my eye. What was it? I hadn’t been expecting anything. After closer inspection, I realized it was from Jessica. Part of me didn’t even want to open it. I didn’t want anything she had to give me. She’d abandoned me. My curiosity begged me to see what was inside the mysterious package, and I finally gave in and tore into the bulging envelope. I rolled my eyes as I withdrew a small leather Bible. She had to be kidding me. Did Jessica really think I’d want to be a loser like her? Realizing there was a note along with the Bible, I flopped down on my bed to read. “I miss you already,” it started out. “Then why did you leave?” I grumbled as my bitterness remained at the surface. “I know you don’t understand right now, but I can’t believe it took me this long to realize where I needed to go.” I grimaced. Yeah, it hadn’t been until that preacher had got a hold of her that she’d started getting weird. “All I want is for you to join me and see what I see.” Uh-huh, sure. That didn’t sound fair to me. She wouldn’t come to me, but I had to go to her. I didn’t think so. “This is a gift for you,” the note concluded. “May your journey of discovery be safe and may you find salvation.” Salvation? That’s what Jessica had always called it - this revolution of hers. It had obviously sounded good to her, but now I was alone, stranded to keep on by myself. Why should I want to go with her? My family and any other friends I had left were here. My home, school and life were here. Why would I want to leave it all behind? Suddenly I wondered what Jessica had truly been thinking. I didn’t want to find the answer, but something deep down finally asked the probing question, “What was so important that she’d leave everything to get it?” Okay, so maybe I was just a little curious. Sighing, I grabbed the Bible and let it fall open to somewhere in the New Testament. What would it hurt to read just a little? I glanced down at my watch and couldn’t believe the time. It was two in the morning. How on earth had the Scriptures captivated me so? I wanted just to turn off the light, pull up my covers and go to sleep, but something felt different. I felt empty somehow. Where had my anger gone? I looked down to the words of Jesus, and suddenly knew the impact these verses had had on my friend. No wonder she’d left. She’d wanted eternal life. She’d left her world behind to follow Christ because He’d died for her. I began to understand that Christ had died for me as well. I began to understand the meaning of salvation. I began to want it too. Jessica hadn’t thrown away everything she’d had - she’d gained so much more. How could I have been so blind? I stood on the ship and stared down at my parents. They stood on the dock in the same spot I’d been standing just the day before, their faces showing little emotion other than disappointment in my decision. Now it was their turn to feel the emptiness. It was their turn to wonder why I’d left their world. But I’d left them a package too. I could only hope and pray that they would discover what I had. A tear ran down my face as the longing in my heart intensified. I wanted them to be on this ship with me. I didn’t want them to be left behind. I finally understood the meaning of sacrifice and love. Jessica came up behind me and put her arm around my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Come on and let me introduce you to our Captain.” I gave one last wave to the crowd and whispered, “I hope to see you soon.” “Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.’” Matthew 16:24-25 In this story, I find myself watching my best friend fade into the distance. Jessica had decided to give her life to the Lord, and therefore was leaving the world behind. No longer a part of worldly things, to me, she was gone forever. Today, many people feel the same way. Involved in the sin of this world, when a friend turns to Christ and leaves behind sinful habits, it’s as if they’re sailing away on a ship, waving goodbye to everything they once thought was all they needed, including their friends who do not share in their beliefs. But what if we were to look at things from Jessica’s perspective? In order to give our lives to Jesus, we must follow Him completely. We must leave behind the things of this world to obey and trust in Him. We must turn our backs on the earthly things and fix our eyes on that which is Heavenly. We must leave behind our old lives of sin. Symbolically, this story shows Jessica literally leaving me behind, bringing to light the subject in a tangible way. There may be no real ship, there may be no physical detachment, but the emotions are the same. We are still called by Christ to deny ourselves and follow Him. We are to deny the world and keep Him as our main focus. The “ship” with Jesus as its Captain, is here, waiting for you to get on. Will you take that step? Will you take the challenge to say goodbye to the world and follow Christ? God loves you so much, you can’t even begin to imagine. I hope to see you soon. Will you join Christ’s family? August 22 No TimeI woke with a start to my alarm blaring its morning wakeup call. Groaning, I rolled over to slap the top of my clock and stop the irritating beeps. “Why does morning have to come so early?” I grumbled. “Good morning,” God replied cheerily. “Take a look out your window. I’ve got the neatest sunrise going out here.” I kept myself from rolling my eyes and nodded politely. “That’s nice, God, but I’ve got a schedule to keep, and I really don’t have time to waste gawking at the sky when I need to be showering before work. I tapped my steering wheel impatiently as I waited in traffic behind a slow-moving semi amidst construction. Why me? Why now? I needed to get to work! I was going to be late, all because of a stupid traffic jam. “Hey, get a load of that butterfly on the side of the road! That’s got to be one of my favorites.” Oh, no, not again. “Look, God,” I said, sparing no exasperation, “I may be stopped now, but in just a few seconds, we’ll be moving again, and I don’t have the time to get out and look at some insect. I’m glad you’re thrilled, but maybe some other time.” The dog needed to be fed, the spaghetti needed to be stirred, the phone was still ringing, and the pot holding the rain water that had leaked through the ceiling needed to be emptied. What a day. What a miserable, lousy day. Everything else had gone wrong, why not add a passing thunderstorm to top it off? “Whoa, you’ve got to come see this rainbow! I bet you can even see both ends from where you are.” I gritted my teeth and pulled a sweaty strand of hair out of my face. “Ya know, I really don’t have time to saunter outside and look at a rainbow. Can’t you see I’m busy?” I hadn’t really meant to sound so upset, but I was in a mess! “Would you help teach the kids on Sunday nights?” I stared at my minister’s face, knowing I must have looked like I thought he was crazy. “Um, well, as much as I’d like to, I’m so busy that I’m afraid I just don’t have the time.” They’d find someone else. They always did. I collapsed into bed, weary from the long, crazy day. “Goodnight.” I opened my eyes just as I was ready to fall asleep. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, God,” I brushed him off. “It’s been a long day and I have to get up early again, so I don’t have time to chat right now. But have a good night.” I scrunched my eyes shut, determined to have a good night’s sleep. Finally! A no-traffic day! I zoomed down the highway, heading to my hair appointment. What I needed was a good change in my looks. That would help boost my self-confidence. As I crested a hill, I noticed a woman standing beside a car that had a flat tire. It was obvious that she was struggling to get it off and replace it, and as I passed, she looked up at me hopefully. I kept on driving, mentally shaking my head. Someone else would stop, and besides, I didn’t have the time. I was just going to make my appointment the way it was. I watched my favorite t.v. program as I pulled on my shoes and fixed my makeup. At least I got to see what happened to Bob and Jill. Last week, they’d been on the brknk of breaking up. As I threw my lipstick back into my purse, I noticed my unopened Bible sitting on the other side of the room. Dust? It couldn’t have been that long since I’d read it. Oh, well, it would have to wait. Right now I didn’t have the time. The party started in half and hour, and I’d just make it. My time to die came, and I stood before the Lord. I glanced around my surroundings, hoping for just a glimpse of what was behind those magnificent gates. I waited fairly patiently as the Lord looked through His Book of Life, and I wondered what was taking so long. Finally he looked up at me sadly. “I’m sorry, but your name isn’t here.” “What?!” I couldn’t believe it. “Why? How come? I don’t understand.” The Lord shrugged and waved to the next person in line. “I guess I just didn’t have the time to write down your name.” I sat bold upright in bed, sweat running down the sides of my face. I reached out to turn on the lamp, hoping to find some comfort in the warm light. It helped a little, and I finally got my hands to quit shaking. But the pictures of my nightmare remained imprinted in my mind. How could I have been so foolish? How could I have been so uncaring? To think that God would have the time for me, when I had none for Him. I remembered when He used to talk to me, excited about His creation. Ignored time and time again, however, He finally ceased to bother me. Gentle reminders came every once in a while, but soon only through other people, or through a guilty conscious. But even then I had no time for what was really important. I’d been wasting my time on things of this world: schedules, parties, work – all the selfish things. All along, I should have been focused on the plans God had for me, not the plans I had for myself. I should have listened to Him more, and taken the time to see the beauty in life, rather than rushing through it. I should have taken the time to get to know God better, rather than pushing Him away. But now…that would all change. I still had time to get to know my Lord. I still had time to be forgiven. I still had time to take the time. July 18 The VisitorIn Sunday school that morning, a stranger walked through the doors. He seemed old and thin, his fingers long and boney. His shoes had some holes in them, and his clothes were just a might shabby. But he walked right in and sat himself down, in the little Sunday school room. The others threw him funny glances, and muffled laughter at his limp. They noticed his matted hair, and his face that needed to be shaved. They pointed at him from their corners, snickering at his appearance. He seemed not to notice though, and retrieved his dog-eared Bible to listen to the lesson. As the teacher closed with prayer, the stranger uttered a quiet, “Amen.” You could have heard a pin drop then, as the others all looked his way. They seemed to be disturbed that he’d agree in such a vocal manner. Who was this to make such a loud commotion? When it came time to shake each other’s hands, the stranger was the first in line. But instead of warmth and smiles with love, he was left all by himself. He stood alone with a hopeful outstretched hand, but received cold shoulders in response. The others all avoided him, not wanting to he touched by this stranger in ragged clothes. Everyone gathered in the large and luxurious room to listen to the sermon. The stranger walked straight down the aisle, and sat right in the front row pew. Those who normally sat there turned up their nose, disgusted. Who was he to come and take their place on Sunday morning? The stranger seemed not to see their scowling faces however, and smiled as the preacher began the sermon. He followed in his Bible and read along from the Word. With every turn of his page, the soft rustling echoed to the tall ceiling, and back down again. Several murmurs came from behind him, from those who were a bit perturbed. But he just continued to read, finding peace from the words of God. When the time came for everyone to sing, the stranger stood with all the rest. He raised his voice high with praise, the peace and reverence apparent on his face. His hands lifted high, he swayed to the piano’s tune. Lost in adoration, for his Lord and his redeemer. Raised eyebrows and dropping jaws were scattered throughout the room. Their looks of shock were replaced with distaste, as they stared at his moving form. Who was he to make such a scene? To disturb their peaceful atmosphere? The offering plate was then passed down. From person to person, across the aisle and down the pews. People reached into their pockets to draw out wads of cash. Some hurriedly wrote checks in front of all the rest. The kids dropped in their handfuls of change, letting it drop loudly into the plate, and grinning at the looks of wonder they received. Then the plate reached the stranger, and he looked down at all the money. He dug down deep into the pocket of his jacket, to discover only a hole and a tiny piece of lint. The woman next in line began to grow impatient. This stranger wouldn’t have anything worth giving, why not let the plate just pass? But the stranger wasn’t finished, as he searched for that one last nickel. He’d found it on the street, now wanting to give it to the Lord. Finally he found it at the bottom of his left-hand pocket, and set it humbly in the plate. Those around him rolled their eyes at such an unworthy gesture. He could have waited until later, or not given that at all. In a church this size, who needed his meager nickel? When church was finally over, the stranger rose from the pew to trudge down the carpeted aisle. Laughter and smiles were all around him, but no one offered their cheer to him. He smiled at a the preacher, but received just a cold nod in response. He waved at a younger woman who turned her back on him. After standing in their midst for a few moments to reflect, the stranger headed for the doors. Just as he passed through, a young man approached him from behind. “Hey, mister, I don’t believe I caught your name.” The stranger turned, with sadness in his eyes. “Who here will accept a stranger? Who will take the needy in? Who will love their neighbor as themselves? Or love those without condition?” The young man wasn’t sure what to say and stood there for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand. We want our church to grow, and certainly welcome all.” “No,” the stranger shook his head, “You do not welcome all. You think of only yourselves, and what others will think of you. You wait for the preacher’s approval of how much offering you gave, and you shake the hands of the elders to make sure you look good to the others. No, there isn’t much love here, and now I’m moving on. There’s a church down the road a ways that I’ll go to and visit next week.” Something in the stranger’s words sent chills down the young man’s spine. “Who are you?” he asked with curiosity. “Who are you to come and judge this church?” The stranger held out his hand to show an aged scar. “I once died for all the people here. I died so they might live. I taught my people to love. I gave my people hope. I taught them what it means to have faith in God and me. I taught them how to do what’s right. But here…” he shook his head again. “Here they have forgotten what my Father truly wanted. They have forgotten to love their neighbor as themselves. They have forgotten to seek the lost. They have forgotten my Father’s purpose, and in doing so, have become hard with greed and arrogance. Do not continue down this path. Do not remain a hypocrite. Stop judging on appearance, on wealth or political rank. Learn to love as I have taught.” He turned to leave, but stopped once more. “I will return, but only once, and it will be soon. Your final chance is now…how will you treat the next stranger that walks through these doors?”
"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the June 13 What if it were today?I jerked my head up from the table full of paperwork as a knock at the door caught my attention. What time was it anyway? I’d been here all night? Great. And I still hadn’t sorted through this awful financial mess. What was I going to do? The knock at the door came again, and I groaned as I rose to answer it. Opening the door, I was surprised to see an acquaintance of mine standing there. He smiled kindly and gave a slight nod. “Good morning,” he said. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” I kept myself from rolling my eyes, knowing that it wasn’t beautiful at all. “All depends on how you look at it,” I responded with forced cheer. “Would you like to come over my house for a while?” I sighed, tired of him asking. He was just a religious freak, looking for people to follow him. “Look, Jesus, I’m sorry, but I’ve got way too much going on this morning. Maybe some other time, okay?” Jesus gave me a look that almost made me cry. He seemed so disappointed. “I’m sorry,” he responded quietly. “Do have a good day.” “Thanks, I will.” I watched as he slowly stepped off my porch, and walked down the street to the nearby church where he was joined with many others from the neighborhood. He’d been bothering me for quite some time now, and it was getting tiresome. What was I to do? Get back to work. That’s what I was supposed to be doing. That’s what I should be doing right now, if I hadn’t been foolish enough to answer the door. The grocery store was packed. Men and women rushed up and down the aisle gathering their food, while children ran and screamed, making my headache even worse. Why couldn’t those parents keep control of their kids? As I was checking out, I was stunned by the scene at the door. There was Jesus, sitting on the bench, laughing and playing with those undisciplined kids. What did he think he was doing? He was just encouraging their bad behavior! More upset than when I’d come, I grabbed my grocery sacks and stalked out the door, not giving Jesus another glance. Back at home, I entered the house to find that I’d forgotten to put the dog in his cage. My living room lamp lay on the floor, broken in two. Couch cushions had been ripped from their places, stuffing strewn across the room. My well-potted, healthy, vibrant, gorgeous peace plant now lay with its roots exposed, its dirt embedded into the short curly carpet. And my paperwork still wasn’t done. Noticing that the answering machine was blinking, I sighed and pushed the play button. “Hi, this is just Jesus calling. Thought maybe you might need some help with something today. If you do, you know where to find me.” Why did he keep bugging me?! I quickly hit the delete button. I didn’t have time for this. I had too many other things to worry about. I had a meeting to get too. Cramming my paperwork into my briefcase, I rushed out the door, pulling on my high-heel shoes as I went. My hair was a mess, my hands smelled like wet dog and potting soil, and my house was far from being put back together again. As I reached my car, I let out a wail of dismay. A flat tire? How could this be happening to me? I never should have gotten up this morning! I threw my stuff into the back seat, grabbed the spare tire from the garage, and set to work. Fifteen minutes later, sweat ran down my face, my back ached, I had two runs in my pantyhose, and the lug-nuts still were not off. I pulled, I pushed, I twisted and turned. It was no use. A shadow crossed my path, and I looked up quickly to see a figure standing behind me. “Jesus? What are you doing?” He smiled kindly and knelt down next to me. “I saw you trying to put on your spare tire, and thought you looked like you might need some help.” I had had enough. Standing up, I put my hands on my hips and I glared at him. “Look, if I wanted your help, I would have asked for it!” Not giving him enough time to respond, I spun on my heel and walked briskly back into my house to call a taxi. There was more than one way to skin a cat. I was going to make this meeting if it killed me. The street lights gave an eerie glow as I walked home that night. Not being able to get another taxi, and too proud to let my co-workers drive me home, I’d decided to get myself home no matter what. My feet ached from the long walk, but at least I still had my dignity. A nice hot bubble bath sounded like it would do just the trick. As I was placing my key in my door, a noise behind me made me jump. I whirled around to meet my neighbor once again. Would he ever leave me alone?! “Isn’t it a bit late for you to be wandering around out here?” I asked with more irritation than I’d intended. Jesus shook his head and held out a small batch of freshly cut flowers. “I just thought you might need something to cheer you up,” he answered. I looked at the flowers, so neatly arranged. What was Jesus trying to do? Bribe me? Get me to apologize for yelling at him earlier? Entice me to start following him with all the other so-called religious people in town? Well, it wouldn’t work. Setting my jaw firmly, I decided that he would not get the best of me. “I’m sorry,” I replied coolly. “I can’t have flowers. Allergies, you know.” With that, I entered my house, and shut my door with a bang. Good riddance. The next morning I woke up to the sun streaming through my window. Glancing at my clock, I realized it was past nine. How had I overslept? Well, I’ll be. No one had knocked at the door! Maybe Jesus had finally gotten the idea! I smiled to myself as I threw on my robe, and made my way to the kitchen. The telephone sat silent, and sipped my coffee, enjoying the quiet. A while later, it was still quiet. No visitors? No phone calls? I glanced out my window. No one to offer to help me change my tire? Well, there were plenty hours in a day. This was my day off, so I was sure to see somebody sometime. By evening, I had a sense that was unexplainable. How could I be lonely? I chided myself, knowing that my stress must just be catching up to me. I needed to relax. I decided to watch some television to unwind. Turning it on, I settled in to watch my favorite shows, but instead, every channel was blaring about some local catastrophe. Great. Now I’d miss out on my show. This looked at least halfway interesting though, so I turned up the volume. I was shocked at what I heard. “Local resident, Jesus Christ, was murdered today.” I sat, stunned, staring at the screen. Jesus? The same guy who had been bugging me? I listened more to the horror story. To the testimonies of witnesses. They explained how the leaders in town didn’t like the way Jesus was teaching. They said he was breaking laws and deceiving people, saying that he was the Son of God. I had known of his claims, but simply thought him to be crazy. Explanations went on, and clips flashed of the brutal beatings Jesus had received. Violence on television didn’t normally bother me, but I felt my stomach churning. I had known that man. His gruesome death was portrayed as well, with vivid pictures of his crucifixion. I found myself weeping as I watched, tormented by how I myself had just spoken to this man not twenty-four hours before. I couldn’t stand it any more, and finally turned the television off. I could hardly believe it. The man…the dear sweet, kind man who had tried to talk to me so many times was gone. Slowly I picked myself up from the couch and walked to the door. Opening it up, my eyes came to rest on the flowers that Jesus had left on the porch. Another tear ran down my face as I leaned over to pick them up. They still smelled sweet, though were limp from sitting outside all day. Something moved me to take care of those flowers. I put them in a vase with water, and set them on my table, just staring at them. I remembered all the times I’d been rude to Jesus. How I’d pushed him away, and thought terrible things about him. All he’d wanted was my friendship, and I’d ignored him. And now…it was too late. What had I done? Three days later, the flowers were starting to wilt. I wanted to keep them alive, but I knew their time was up. Sadly I pulled them out of their vase and took them to the door where I could go put them in the garbage can before the trash pick-up came. When I opened the door, I gasped at the man who was just about ready to knock. It wasn’t possible. “Jesus?” I whispered. He gave me his kind smile and nodded. “Yes. “ I glanced down and saw the scars in his hands from the nails I’d seen them use. “But how…?” “I have fulfilled my purpose,” he explained. “I died and rose for you.” “For me?” I didn’t understand. “My Father sent me as a sacrifice for men,” he answered. “No one can ever be good enough to enter the kingdom of Heaven. No one can earn their way to salvation. I died for you so that you might be saved through me. I suffered and took all men’s sin upon myself so that you could have the chance to get to know my Father.” Crestfallen, I stared at the ground, as the tears ran unchecked down my face. “But, Jesus. I yelled at you. I didn’t want you around. I didn’t want to have anything to do with you. How could you have done this for me?” “I love you,” was his simple response. “Follow me. Believe in me, and obey my commands, and you can be saved. Open up your heart to the truth.” I raised my head to look into his eyes. His eyes full of hope and love. He’d talked of following him before, but I’d never listened. He’d talked of eternal life, but I hadn’t paid any attention. But now…now I was listening. Seeing him standing here, alive and well, was enough for me. And I had another chance. I threw myself into his arms, embraced by his love. I didn’t care about my paperwork or meetings…I wanted Jesus. Jesus is alive. He did die for you. He does love you. |
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