Monday, April 29, 2013

What It Takes To Sing

The highway turns to blacktop, which soon narrows to a poorly maintained country road. At first homes speckle the landscape, but the scenery quickly changes to only wide expanses of rolling sand dunes  held together by a veneer of hearty prairie grasses.

Sparse tawny skeletons of weathered sunflowers remain from last season. They seem to hang their heads while deep roots cling to porous soil.  Needle and thread vegetation, that for years found its way into our childrens stockings, are intermingled with waving tufts of blue-stem grass which only display tawny hues from lack of moisture. 
Spring rains have yet to bring forth new growth that lie dormant below the surface.

Endless blue sky stretch out in all directions like a dome over us. The only sign of life is a lone meadowlark who clutches with his tiny feet to the spiky blade of a yucca plant.   

This is where Jim and I spent many years raising our children. We know well the frailness and the wildness of this place. Our faith was not unlike the delicate balance that brings stability to these hills, for not long before moving here, we had first recognized and drew close to the face of the Invisible God.

It was around this time and space that  I met a woman, who seemed good at everything she did. seasoned Christian, gifted in so many things, who appeared to have the energy, resources and vision to do most anything.

A cancerous root was established in my heart toward her. The details aren't helpful to know, but it was easy to justify my reasons. 
A decade passed and then another. I've tripped over ten thousand things in my journey. None of them have landed me as scared as withholding and extending true deep forgiveness.

Being a Christian has been more hard work than I could have imagined. It is a constant process of rejecting lies and embracing truth. Unknowingly I adapted some personal doctrine of how many times and who was worthy of my forgiveness.  I began my Jesus story with more gaping wounds and tragedy than I care to recount. I could write a book that no one wants to read on just the process of grief. "Process" is perhaps the wrong word since it conjures up a picture of moving forward. 

Unresolved soul injuries  and indifference to sin hardened and robbed me of living fully alive. Things I saw as small indifferences, went largely unnoticed until recently.

The test came.

It began with lunch and a friend. In the last course of the meal I casually decided to give my opinion about this person. Which is really a nice way to say that I gossiped about the woman. It wasn't so many days later, while standing in the shower that the Spirit pressed hard on my spirit. The pressure pushed me to my knees and as the water splattered against my back,  hot tears streamed down and I was washed clean much deeper than just soap can rinse fiber and tissue. 

But sin has fall out.

There were apologies to be extended and forgiveness to be asked. My stomach tightens like flesh that has receives a fist punch  just to think of it all   --probably like the woman felt when she heard the words I spoke. 

Sin is so insidious.

It seems small. But it is ugly and hard.

Not so long ago I was in the emergency room with my mom. She had fallen and had shattered her shoulder. We did paper work. She lay is the small room while different tests were administered, I stepped out to make phone calls. It was not long before my finger began to burn and throb. It was ridiculous and annoying and I tried to ignore it. It quickly became evident that something was very wrong and it would have to be addressed.

I later found out, that through a very small paper cut I had received earlier that day, I had become infected with MRSA. (This is the abbreviation for methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus. Also known as Staph.) Within hours of the microscopic bacteria entering that small opening, my finger was swelled and infection was traveling rapidly. It took some very intentional steps and careful observation to contain the rampant attack.

I wear a scar in the area it entered.

Yes, sin is like that.

It seems like a small thing. We try to ignore the warning signs. The longer we let it go the more damage is done. And the cost is higher than we understand.

In the days that followed by failed test, I believe the Lord revealed to me this. That my lack of love was the issue at hand.  And I get that it's hard to love like Jesus loves. Especially when others withhold love. 

The truth is that it isn't hard to love like Jesus. It is actually impossible.

Apart from knowing the Lover and then submitting to His ways it is only a wide rolling expanse of desert with no ability to produce life.

Not only are we to forgive. Jesus said we are to forgive seventy times seven.
(read here?) 

That is just crazy grace. The kind He died on the Cross so it could be extended to me. The kind of free grace He died for, to extend to anyone who will receive it.

And that grace began to settle me.

What do people do who don't know how to seek it? 
Why did it take me so long to extend it?

Margaret Feinberg said it like this which I love: "Dispensing grace." Yes. Pouring it out. 
For the measure I use to judge others will be the measure that God uses to deal with me.

The words that I say, the prayers that I cried...

It was for freedom.

Me releasing them.

Me being released.

So we are all free to sing our life song.

The window was lowered just enough for the breeze to drift in. The motor whines under the weight of the climb and dust clouds form ghosts behind us and tire tread digs deep into the sand. Miles stretched out before us still. And the lone meadowlark, he opens wide his beak and sings his song. In this dry wasteland with little life, he sings his life song clear and loud. The one that only he can sing. He sang it as if he were in a crowded theater with a soldout audience.  He was free to sing to his audience of One. 

Forgiveness. I ask for it. I extend it. Mostly I want to live it.

Out of the rolling wastelands, full of thorns and the rough  edges of life, we who are adorned in the outrageous beauty of a living God, the One who sits resplendent in light...  we have a  song to sing.

He gave it to us.

No one else can sing our song, so it's important that we not be caught in any snares. 

Can I ask you?

Is there any unforgiveness that holds you back from truly being all that you were made for?

Linking today with, Michelle, Duane Scott, Shelly and Heather.
Reading "Wonderstruck" by  

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Real Life and Friends

I was prepared for one. I was prepared for fifty.

Two came.

Opening my home is a vulnerable place.

There is dog hair, laundry hidden, dust not so hidden and as of Saturday morning a leak in the main bathroom which had resulted in a section of the ceiling falling in the downstairs bathroom.


Much was going on and reasons to not attend were in great abundance. Honestly I just wanted to be available to be a blessing. So numbers were never suppose to be the issue anyway.

Amanda and I planned it. One other friend came.

The stories women shared in the simulcast stirred something deep. Conversation flowed easy. The fresh fruit sugar cookie pizzas were the best ever.  

The theme of staying in relationships was so good. Too many times it was easier to walk away and pretend it doesn't matter in friendships.

When the house was quiet and the guests had driven off to their real lives, it fell heavy on me.

This thing with numbers. 

Lisa Jo said it: "Small is the new big."

And I am content to do what ever the Lord has.

I felt it too after attending a conference of talented writers. On one hand the time infused me with new hope and big dreams, as well as life into my soul. 

On the other hand, deep insecurities set in. 

The question of, "Why am I even writing when there are 160 million blogs out there and more every day... what more could possibly need said?"

But this came to mind. That Jesus speaks of leaving the 99 to go look for the one. 

This is what I know:

  • My heart is for women.
  • God has redeemed much in my life so I must write about it.
  • I will cultivate the soil where I am. Invest in the people God opens the doors for me to reach. 

I'm grateful for online friends, real-life face-to face friends and today especially thankful for the two beautiful women who shared their hearts and time with me.

Small is my new big. 

Linking up with:

post signature

Monday, April 22, 2013

Kindness Matters

It was easy to be mesmerized with the process of his craft. I was on information overload, weary from travel, changed environment and routine.

The handsome young man extended his slender finger and almond shaped nail to depress the switch. With one click, the seasoned barista sent the mill into whirling motion. Sharp blades fluttered and hummed with choppy crunching and then even purring of the motor, which signaled success. It released a caffeinated laced aroma which hung in the air, as the roasted beans were transformed into finely ground powder.

Dark liquid gold ran in a thin stream from the portafilter into the cup forming the all important caramel-colored creme on top. The vapor essence of coffee filled my senses. I was already gulping in the experience, while the hiss of the frothing wand produced perfect creamy foam. With a flare of his wrist he poured the velvet to top off the drink. Then four of us drug chairs across the tiled floor, to huddle close around a table made for two.

We were strangers really.

As we each cupped our drink choice, rich conversation began to flow. We only had a short time to catch up on each others entire lives.

Her appearance didn't reflect her age. Her manner put you at ease. Her beautiful clear skin and deep eyes warmly melted any barriers and we were all instant friends.  

She displayed no pretense. For her there was nothing to prove.

She spoke in startling detail of the day her father, sat the four of them on the bed, to announce he was leaving. With even toned clarity she communicated the event that would be a turning point in all of their lives, though she wasn't yet ten, that awful day.

In the devastation of a family torn by divorce, she recounted how one woman from a nearby town, entered into their story. In tenderness this one nameless woman, began to extend kindness to a family in need.

As time passed there were other men and other women that reached out and did a thousand other kind things to help this mom and her children. 

The outcome of those acts of kindness have yet to be fully realized. 

But that day, in that little coffee shop I saw her one beautiful life.

The stunning wife of a Pastor. Mom to adult children who are living and serving Jesus. One of her children, a missionary who lives dangerously in another country. 

She was a blogger before blogging was big.

Her siblings, are also living whole lives. And they invest in other people in one-hundred thousand other unspoken displays of kindness. 

A few hours after this encounter, in the evening session, Author and Speaker Jennifer Dukes Lee, made this statement: "Someone once said that 1,000 people stand on the other side of your obedience." 

Her words sunk deep into my flesh. I tried to picture one thousand faces looking intently at me  - -waiting for my next act of obedience, to what Jesus is asking of me to do right now

For this new friend, the one nameless woman, who drove from another town to her home   - -her acts of kindness probably seemed small, as she lived them.

But from my cup-of-joe view, I would guess the people impacted are more far reaching than one thousand.

Recently I heard someone teach this: "That the Abraham of the Bible, is still waiting to see what all fruit is his to claim from his obedience long ago, because it is still producing." 

The world is still being effected by his original act of obedience "to go." (read here?) 

Often times an act of obedience is not some earth-moving moment. Sometimes they look like small acts of kindness. 

One thing it will probably always involve, is giving something of ourselves up.





The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
(Galatians 5:22-23)

The local news may not have noticed friend, but the God of the Universe has recorded every deed done for His glory.


In Heaven.

That nameless woman who ministered to a broken family in what seemed very small ways.....

The sweet woman who was faithful to do, what she could, with what little she had to offer....

The lady who opened doors which might otherwise have remained closed....

Photo Credit

Well, I think she is going to shocked to see all the faces that her service reached.

Photo Credit

Obedience and kindness have a ripple effect. 

Today I hope you and I can be that sweet aroma of kindness lived out.

post signature

Monday, April 15, 2013

Living (in)RL Life Together

Sharing My Story About (in)RL....

Photo Credit

It was a day like any day.

Me living crazy, on little sleep.

I jumped on my Facebook to burn ten minutes until supper would be ready.

The red balloon above my inbox was highlighted. Mindlessly clicking on the notifications I scrolled down skimming the notes until one stopped me cold.

Just reading the name, hot tears began to tumble onto the keyboard.

The woman.

She was from my childhood.

One alpha-girl who had belittled me in grade school. Perhaps it wouldn't have dealt such a blow to my little girl mind, but I lived in a small community where you were either in or you were out of the in-group. 

To make matters worse I had really wanted to be on the inside of that group. And our moms were friends. It was a disaster that set the paradigm of my mind toward girlfriend relationships. 

The emotional reaction I had to this unexpected e-mail was nothing less than violent. A deep fountain of pent up pain came forward without warning.

I melted into a heap of hideous sobs and tears. Not long into this unwanted episode, I began to ask the Lord, "What in the world is this really about?" 

What I felt that He spoke into my spirit was that this was a deep root which needed dealt with. And that it had less to do with the person and more to do with my heart.

After more soppy tissues I returned to re-read the e-mail.

She was kind and upbeat . She spoke as if we had been long time friends, even suggesting we get together for the class reunion. 

Next came a friend request. 

To be honest I just stared at the whole thing with, "you've got to be kidding me.." eyes.

Then it dawned on me.

She really could not know.

She must not have any idea what the outcome of those girlhood experiences were for me. And even if she did, she was probably doing the best she could to build a bridge.

It's not as if I were even blaming her. However it was with deep emotion, I mourned what had been lost in my childhood, set the course for high school and had long term lingering effects as a woman.

It felt ridiculous that I could have such strong feeling lurking in my soul-shadows after so many years.

Over the next few days I really inquired of the the Lord about the intense reaction I experienced.

A few of the things I believe He spoke over me:
  • This unhealed place was the deep root of sin in my life.
  • It was the foundation of my quest to not 'need' girlfriends and seek the attention of men.
  •  Many decisions I made were filtered though this messed up lens.
  •  Much of my prodical-ness had it's roots in this place.
  • It was a least part of the reason I never. felt. good. enough.

For several days I lamented the pain and cost of the lies I had embraced. There were some really healthy tears. There were some very honest conversations with Jesus. 

He made two things very clear to me:

~ God wants to redeem every single space in my soul.

~ Friendships with other women are important.

Then I flat out spoke this: "I don't want to be friends with her Lord."

And in my spirit I honestly heard this: "So you are going to choose which women you love and minister to?"

I'll admit it.


I wanted to choose. 

Its hard to desire to be with women who have hurt you. Yet I am that woman. Indeed, I have hurt other women in a thousand awful ways too. Some knowingly. Others without knowing.

As a little girl I deeply wanted real community with other little girls. And now I'm a woman who deeply needs community with other women. All kinds of women. Every shape and size and background. Young, old and in-between. Because that's how we were designed.

My response to reject this woman made me no different than the clique that did the damage in the first place. Being open to whoever the Lord has for me to minister to, drawing beautiful hearts with cords of kindness to the Father, is what I want to spend out my days doing. 

I actually owe her a thank-you.

What the enemy of my soul meant for evil, God intended for good.

Just as is His way, God took the broken, messy area of my heart and redeemed it to minister to women with all my heart. He bring them to me. Some for a phone call and some to do life with. As long as He is willing, I am available. I try not to get in the way of who He wants to extend His grace to.

Sometimes He doesn't send a friend I want, but He sends the friend I need.

This is the deal.

We aren't who we were.

And we need each other to become who we were meant to be.

Linking up today with (in)!

My young beautiful friend Amanda and I are hosting our first ever (in)RL event on April 27th. We've made some plans to bless the ladies that will come and are expecting God to show up and amaze us. It is on my heart for women to move beyond their pasts and know how crazy in love Jesus is with them. Also I have been burdened to see more women in my season of life step up and answer the desperate need for multi-generational women friendships. Hoping to see some of that happen on April 27th! Are you interested? There is room for you friend.

Join us?
You are invited!

post signature

{5} Of My Favorite Things

Photo Credit

They are scattered around the house. A few are sliding under the seat in my car. I've given trunk loads of them away. I download them just because they are cheap or free. I've been know to search bins at second hand stores for them. They indiscriminately line shelves, are stacked loosely on any flat space and because of my affair with them, few empty places exist in my office.

Mostly I just love books.

Flipping through their pages makes me feel like I've entered the authors home and get to peer into their soul. Sometimes I read the last chapter first, because I'm weird like that and hope they saved their best stuff for the end. 

With color markers I underscore and asterisk my favorite thoughts and phrases. I'm seldom able to pass my books on if I liked them, because of all the highlighting and scribbles. They become part of my soul and a work of art that few could appreciate. 

Still I'm very selective about what I spend time doing with my mind and the things I give my time away to. So if a book makes it into my hands it has to be something special to begin with. There are so many ugly things in the world, I want to read things that bring beauty, inspiration and maybe some motivation to my realm of life.

Books have taught me deep truths and rocked my little cosmos of the universe. They quietly open their pages like welcoming arms of a friend.

Too often I have to steal small blocks of time to read. Perhaps a few minutes while waiting for an appointment, ten minutes when I should be heading into a meeting, or late at night when I need. to. be. sleeping.

It is a rare and wonderful day when I can actually sit in my favorite chair with a cup of hot chocolate, a quilt and the latest book that I am in love with. But when it does happen, it's like slipping quietly through a beautifully adorned door to feel light streaming on your face and fresh breeze on my soul.  


Photo Credit

Photo Credit

Photo Credit

Here are the hard fought, top 5 Favorite books I'm currently convinced are worth some of your valuable time.

Magical Journey by Katrina Kenison

Katrina Kenison is my new favorite author. She is a professional at writing beauty. This book has put into words some of the journey from one life season to another. She speaks truths about so many things we all stumble over, with an overriding theme of contentment and wonder in the right now.  Thank you Michelle De Rusha for the suggestion.

Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge

If there is a book in me, it probably has something to do with speaking love and truth to women about who they really are in Jesus. I see all women as stunningly beautiful, intricately designed to do amazing exploits for the kingdom while living lives that have eternal impact. I've met precious few women that truly embrace their beauty and design. 

This book is a must read for every woman and I dare say any man who loves a woman. And it is a book that should be revisited every year or so to remind us of the wonder of God's design for women and satans assault on them. The pages that describe how women are the pinnacle of all that God created, like the crown jewel on all His amazing creation, still causes me take a deep warm breath of awe.

Wonderstruck by Margaret Feinberg

This is what I'm reading right now. (well one of the books) It is fresh. Margaret brings to light our need and deepest gift of living life astounded by God. She is speaking my soul language. I have no time to live an ordinary life and neither do you friend. She has me praying for wonder. Who doesn't want more of this stuff?

You're Made for a God-Sized Dream by Holley Gerth

This girl just looks sweet. And she writes sweet. And I get to hear her speak this coming weekend! I am beyond excited. Holley says this: "God-sized Dream = A desire in your heart for more of what God has for you."  And I believe this too: "God puts dreams in your heart, so you can pray to Him about them, so He can bless us with them. All so we can give Him the glory." Well I think she said this, and if not the exact quote I think it's in her book somewhere. 

Anyway. I believe it enough to be praying for more of it. No. I'm praying for ALL of it.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Draw The Circle by Mark Batterson

This book needs a warning label attached that reads: "This book may change your life." His "The Circle Maker" is a great book. But "Draw the Circle" is my favorite. It is a forty day devotional, stuffed full of examples of prayer straight from the Bible and testimonies of real people who lived a radical life by praying crazy prayers. It's not a safe book. It has rocked the way I approach the throne and helped me journal bold prayers, so I can give God the glory as I see Him move in and through them. 

CS Lewis is quoted as saying, "We read to know that we are not alone."

I think there is so much truth in that. Stories are a part of our history and I would dare to say part of who we are. We need to hear each others stories and what is stirring in each others hearts. 

It might change the direction of a life which will change the direction of a legacy.

My husband is a minimalist.

He likes "The Book."

The one that has the real secret to all of life. 

The all time #1 best seller because the Author. is the Author of Life. He wrote the book using the pen of over forty men, spanning more than 1600 years, divided into 66 chapters. It's pages weave the multi-genre of ultimate non-fiction, epic novel, resplendent love story, manifold mini series, suspense, terror, a Knight in Shining Armor and a compelling climatic happy ending for those who believe.

I hope you read it. 

The '5 Favorite Books,' I've listed have spoke life and perspective into my journey. But even the best books are tiny jewels that can accentuate the Crown Jewel. The most important book ever written. No matter what you think about the Bible, it will always wash fresh grace over your soul and cause life to grow where the soil is hard.

I believe deeply that there is a story and a book in every person that needs to be told.

Someone, somewhere needs to hear your soul-story.

My hope is that you are reading a good book.

My prayer is that you writing one with the life you live. 

post signature

Friday, April 12, 2013


Linking Up Today With Lisa-Jo

5 Minute Friday


Two years ago.

I heard this song by Rebecca St James. "I Will Praise You."

It talks about the "waters rising" and it talks  about matter what the cost "I. will. still. praise. Him...."

Yes, I heard it for the first time two years ago. It popped up on my computer screen at 5:00 am. On April 12th 2011.

In fact she had just released the song.

I didn't even follow Rebecca St James. 

I had just lost my mom.

She was buried on April 5th. 

I lost more than my mom two years ago.

The spokes came off the proverbial wheel of family relationships. 

But the Lord comforted me with this song like a prophetic word about the days to come.

And today. I wasn't looking for it. My iPod was on a different play list. I was running on my elliptical.

Then it played. 

He sent me some encouragement right here, where I am today.

I'm still here claiming peace in the storm.
God is still here cheering me on.

The song. 

Hear it here?


I’m joining Lisa-Jo, over at her site today, to take five minutes and just write without worrying if it’s amazing. The challenge is to write for 5 minutes flat {which is not very long...} with the prompt she gives. And today, her prompt:


post signature

Monday, April 8, 2013


Photo Credit

Since I was a child I have loved fire. On the forty acres I grew up on, my brother and I built forts and every child-size mansion that was assembled would have in the center of it, a fire pit. With primitive tools, including one green folding boy scout shovel, we would scratch out  a hollowed place, in the clay ground. Then stones were gathered to form a ridge around the outer edge. It was my duty to look for kindling. Small twigs, branches and dry leaves. It was his job to gather the larger logs. And with the strike of one wooden match we would cup the flame near the dry leaves until the flicker began to lick up the fuel around it and ignite into a roaring flame. It's really a wonder that we didn't burn down our tree-laden playground.

My friends like to do a lot of traveling. On one of their trips they found themselves deep in the South looking for a church to visit on Sunday. They searched the phone book and randomly chose a place to attend. Dressed in their comfortable vacation clothes, they walked through the large ornate doors, just as the service was about to begin. Slipping quietly into the back row of the sanctuary, trying to settle in, unnoticed, they soon realized that they were the only whiter-than-white people in the large sanctuary. At that moment a precious woman tapped them on the shoulder and introduced herself. The music began to gain momentum when their new acquaintance grabbed my long-time friends arm and said, "Oh honey!" "Come with me.... we have to get closer to the flame!" 

With more than a bit of hesitant, they compliantly made their way to the front row following their new dancing friend. Coming from a conservative, 'don't-raise-your-hands-too high'...kind of church.... only added to the uneasiness of their current predicament. But soon the beautiful reverence, rhythm of instruments and words of worship pumped warm life through their veins and they were ushered into the presence of God. As they got over themselves, all inhibitions were melted, skin color forgotten and the experience fanned fresh embers of faith and worship in their lives.

I love it.
I really love IT!

It just delights my heart to think of their experience that morning!

And I wish I would have been there.

In fact, I wish we all would worship the Lord like, ' ...David, who wore a linen ephod, and danced before the LORD with all his might.' (emphasis mine)

Do you know that the ephod might have been just an apron?


Get that picture burned in your mind.

David was the King. 

And he may have been a King dancing with all his might in an apron.

And his wife wasn't happy about it at all. Read here?

Yet the Bible says that David "...was a man after God's own heart." In addition to that in the book of 1 Samuel alone there are at least three other references to the people who hung out with that king, ...singing, dancing and praising God. 

I hear people complain about the music in church all. the. time.

And this is what I have to say to me and to them: If our God is a consuming fire shouldn't we all be drawing close enough to get 2nd degree burns?

If we will fill stadiums to attend football games, dressed in appropriate cheering attire, with face paint and tailgate parties, while swaying and shouting with passion that comes from the depths of our soul, I think that the worship service should have a little fire to it as well. 

Don't get me wrong. I am not suggesting we wear aprons that reveal our underwear in church.

God is to be revered. He is not a God of chaos. But the God I serve does not speak in monotone. He is not moved by the motion of my yawning lips and emotionless singing. He is not sleeping in the pew (He is seated on the throne) and I don't think He wants us to be sleep walking either.

One phrase I've been hanging on to these weeks following Easter:

"Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road...?" Read here?

While we walk this life with Jesus something should be burning deep within us. 


A few things that flame the fire within me?

* My young-minded, older friends. Yes, you sweet Florence, Clara, Esther, and Pauline T....

* When evil is defeated and the underdog wins. 

* The day I first laid eyes on each grandchild. Fresh life. New miracles each one. Little embers fan life deep in my soul.

* Locking eyes in a burning silent moment with a friend who is losing his battle with cancer.

*Praying big bold prayers and knowing that Jesus hears them and might have half a mind to just answer them.

* Reading Ann Voskamps blog. With the music playing. Yes. 

* Encounters with homeless people. Read here?

* Or being with people who need some hope..

* Meeting young people who are on fire for Jesus. 

* The couple who retired in the USA and instead of living the comfortable American dream life, moved to Mexico to start an orphanage for street children. Yes. What they are doing scorches my soul deep.... like a branding iron sears through hair and hide. 

This girl. She wrote "Kisses From Katie" and she is living out Jesus in Uganda. Every time I read what she is doing, the flame ignites. 

* Testimonies of people who embrace the love of Jesus. Everyone has a story.  Hearing them does more than warm my heart.

* Watching children worship. { heart melting..}

* My church. Where precious spirit filled people use their God given gifts, to draw us into worship the King of all Kings. 

* Throwing my head back and dancing until the endorphin's kick in high. On. Jesus. Right. Now. And yes. It is playing loud.

It begins with the small pieces of kindling like earnest prayer, reading His words, and hanging out with a few people who will help build the flame of faith in your life.

And we need to live a life of worship. Not just show up on Sunday and expect to know what it looks like. 

Photo Credit

Photo Credit

Photo Credit

As a child I played with fire. Now I cup the flame that Jesus ignited in me.  Some of my friends, ...they know this little thing I say. "Do you want to sit with me? I like to be up front where I'm closer to the flame." Not to be drawing attention to myself, but to focus my attention on my burning-bush kind of God.  

Is your heart burning within you?

I hope it's more like a wildfire that can't be contained. Engulfing chaff and melting away dross in our lives. 

Keep the fire burning.

Because we all need some fresh hallelujahs friends.

post signature
© Rhonda Quaney