A Pew Perspective

Just Thinking: Forty Days of Lent

2012-02-22T09:06:00.000-08:00

Forty days of telling Jesus thanks. That's my view of the Lenten Season.

What did Jesus think about during those last forty days he walked this earth? What would you think about if you knew you only had forty days to live and that you were going to die in agony? That your last several hours you would undergo mockery, scorging, hunger, thirst--pain so horrific that it's good the time was short.

I don't know about you, but I've never had anxiety so severe that I've sweat blood. Have you? Hemotidrosis is extremely rare, but it does occur. There are mental and physical causes where it can happen repetitively, but those are even rarer. Acute fear and intense mental contemplation cause most instances.

What, Jesus afraid? Undergoing intense mental contemplation? Oh, yeah, I think so. The Bible says He was tempted in every way we have been. To me, that means He was capable of being panic-stricken.

I wonder how badly he wanted to run away. Bravery isn't the lack of being afraid--it's the strength to press on to your goal even when you are terrified. And His goal was to save lives. Millions of them. Perhaps billions or even trillions.

In a Bible study once, the leader of the study asked if I would be able to sacrifice my son to save others. That was just before the war with Iraq seemed imminent. I thought hard for a few moments.

"If I thought that sacrificing him would save thousands of others, yes." At great cost, with innumerable tears, in great agony. I love my kids. Those of you who have children know what I mean. I would gladly lay down my life to save theirs.

And wasn't that what God did? Jesus was fully God as well as being fully human, remember.

That's why I give up something I enjoy during the forty days of Lent. Chocolate. Sugar. Computer games. And I substitute something to do instead of the computer games, spend the time in prayer that I would have spent digging out a treat, eat only healthy foods, read the Bible a little longer.

I give so little back to Him compared to what He has given. This special season of preparation for Easter, I will give Him a more of myself.

"My Story" Tuesday: Marcia Lee Laycock

2012-02-21T14:50:00.000-08:00

The Day God Laughed

by Marcia Lee Laycock

“See what you have to look forward to now?”

The whisper in my ear came from a friend in the pew behind us, and it made my smile widen. It was December tenth, and we were on our first outing with our new baby. She was only ten days old, but we braved the frigid Yukon winter to attend the Christmas pageant at a small mission church.

I knew the service wouldn’t be a grand production. The church was just a hall, tiny and dilapidated. The carols were sung a cappella, without a pianist to help keep us in tune. The pageant consisted of six or seven children dressed in bathrobes, their heads in kitchen-towel wraps. The backdrop was made of cardboard stars covered in tinfoil.

But I was seeing everything attached to Christmas in a new way. The tinfoil stars glittered more brightly than a chandelier. The carols were as harmonious as though sung by angels. And the children... ah, the children made the story live!

I was bursting with thankfulness. I had just been given the desire of my heart, the precious gift of a child of my own.

We had been told it wouldn’t happen, and after five years without conceiving a child, my husband and I tried to resign ourselves to that reality. I took great pains to hide the deep sadness I found almost unbearable. No one knew how much I wanted a baby, but the clues were there. I was angry much of the time. Convinced God was punishing me, I hated Him. The bitterness poured into all aspects of my life.

Until the day God laughed.

It was on the road to Mayo, Yukon. I was going to visit a friend, determined not to think about God or religion or any of the baffling questions my husband kept bringing up. But no matter what I tried, my mind would not rest. The question of God’s existence and what he had to do with me would not go away. In desperation, I pulled my vehicle into a lookout point above the Stewart River.

The beautiful river valley stretched out below, but I barely saw it. In turmoil, I challenged God to do something to prove He was there. Then I realized how foolish I was, talking to a God I did not really believe existed. At that point something happened which I have never been able to describe adequately. I “heard” laughter, like a grandfather chuckling, and the words, “Yes, but I love you anyway.”

None of this was audible, yet it was real. I thought I was going insane. The turmoil had finally pushed me over the edge and now I was hearing voices. I stomped on the gas pedal of my truck, turned the radio up as loud as it would go, and fled.

My visit with my friend turned out to be more discussion of spiritual things, but by the time I returned home I was determined not to pursue Christianity. Besides, I had something else on my mind. I had been suffering from a strange flu. On about the seventh day of this “flu”, the realization I was in fact pregnant flooded over me like warm rain. With it came a thunderbolt of truth.

This was the “something” I had challenged God to do. The child growing in my womb was His answer, the proof of His love. He gave me the desire of my heart. She was born November 30, 1982.

“See what you have to look forward to now?”

Oh yes, I saw. I saw a future filled with the knowledge there is peace without measure, grace without limit, and love without conditions. I saw a future suddenly bright because I believe the Christmas story. A tiny baby, whose sole purpose was to die for me and all others, was born in Bethlehem. I saw the reality that the Christ is still intimately involved in our lives here on earth. Though the church may be just a hall, the music less than perfect, and the costumes homemade, the story is exquisite. The story is true!

This is an excerpt from Marcia's devotional book, Spur of the Moment, available on her website. To read more of Marcia's writing please visit www.vinemarc.com.

Book Review: PAYNE AND MISERY by Catherine Leggitt

2012-02-20T10:23:00.000-08:00

You remember that nosy neighbor who always knows everything about all the people who live within a country mile of her? You know, the one in the quick stop who stares with suspicion at everyone she sees? Peeks out from behind curtains? Snoops in your garage when you're not home?

This book is about her. Christine Sterling is her name. Her husband Jesse doesn't understand why she sees wolves behind every little incident. The deputies at the Sheriff's department sigh and become unavailable when she calls. Their friends down the road, Zora Jane and Ed, try to lead her away from her proclivities. But Christine knows what she knows. Her instinct is infallible.

Okay, so it's not infallible, but that family down the road? Something's wrong there, but no one will believe her. She must come up with proof.

Poor anorexic Lila disappears. Will, her husband--uh, no, boyfriend. Or something. He disappears about the same time each day, but he always comes back. His sister Helen--well, let's just say her crazy driving is a great indicator of her personality. And Molly, Christine's beloved little border collie also comes up missing.

Clues abound. Why doesn't anyone believe her? Grab the book quick and find out how things turn out for this busybody--ah, really curious lady.

Great job, Catherine Leggitt, from a wonderfully unique point of view!

Available from Ellechor Publishing House, Amazon, and Barnes and Nobel.

Fiction Friday, ONE MORE TIME, Chapters 38 and 39

2012-02-17T07:42:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 38 - AUGUST, 30 CE – A CHANGE OF HEART

Before Paul and Tamara left their little house to begin morning lessons, a knock sounded at their door. Sarah went to the door and invited the couple standing there into the house.

Paul stepped forward and extended his hands in welcome. “Hello Ebenezer, Emma. This is my wife Sarah and our daughter Tamara.”

“Hello, Paulos, Sarah,” Ebenezer said.

“Papa,” Tamara said, tugging on Paul’s tunic, “Jesus told me ‘bout Emma in my dream last night. He gave me a message for her.”

Emma and Ebenezer looked startled.

“Who is Jesus?” Emma asked.

“He’s my friend, and He knows everything. He told me last night you need to hurry to see your mama. She doesn’t feel good, and she wants to see you before she dies.” Tamara gazed anxiously up at Emma.

“Before she dies? How do you know about this? Paulos, what did you tell this child?” Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“No. This Jesus talks to her often in her dreams, and thus far, all of what He has told her has happened. We believe Jesus is the Son of God.”

“The Son of God? You mean the Messiah? Is He actually come?” asked Ebenezer

“Well, that’s our belief. He’s been seen by many people, not just Tamara.”

“Have you seen Him?”

“I have, although Sarah hasn’t.”

“That is indeed good news—He has finally come to save His people.” One edge of Ebenezer’s mouth tipped upward, the first hint of a smile Paul had seen from the man.

“We came to tell you we would go see my mother with our children,” Emma said.

Paul smiled at her. “That’s wonderful. I can’t leave now because Tamara has been very ill, or I’d ask our employer if I could accompany you. Please give Mehida my greetings. Tell her that her adopted son sends his love. May God go with you.”

CHAPTER 39 - JULY, 30 CE – WAITING FOR EMMA

Mehida lay quietly on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “Adonai,” she murmured, “I know I’ll soon leave this home where my children and my husband lay buried. Soon I shall join them. I don’t fear to leave this earth, but I wish I could see my daughter one last time. I need to tell her I’m sorry. Yes, I probably should tell that fisherman she married I’m sorry too, and give them my blessing. I know now I was wrong. If I don’t see them, great Jehovah, please would you tell them for me?” A tear trickled down her withered cheek.

Her friends Joel and Abidon sat outside her house, quietly talking.

“She won’t live long now,” Joel said. “She grows weaker.”

Abidon nodded. “It was good we stopped to see her when we did. She’d have died there on the ground by her goats.”

“To the goats’ credit, they were trying to comfort her—or was it that they enjoyed the taste of her sleeves?” Joel grinned.

“Whichever, it seems they did help her. They lay down close to her body and kept her warm during the night.” Abidon patted one of the friendly goats.

“She said she wants to see her daughter. Even though we sent word by the next person who passed on his way to the coast, I don’t think anyone will be able to find the daughter in time. Mehida might live another week, but it would take that long to get to coast and back riding horses, even if they knew where her daughter was, but this messenger was leading a donkey.”

“It would take a miracle to get the daughter here in time. Maybe she’d give us a message for her daughter.”

“Perhaps. I’ll go talk to her.” Joel rose and turned to go inside the house.

Mehida was still staring at the ceiling when he entered the door. She turned her head at the sound of the door and squinted her eyes.

“Is that you, physician?”

“It is, Mehida. How do you feel?”

“I don’t feel anything. It’s as though I’m floating somewhere.” She cackled softly, sounding a little like the old Mehida. “The view is terrible—I remember myself as a young woman, yet here I am, old, crippled, wrinkled, and weakened by too long a life.”

“It happens to all of us sooner or later, Mehida. You’ve had a good life, haven’t you?”

“Some good, some bad. Some joy, some sorrow. Now I’m at the end of this life, and I don’t know what lies ahead.”

“A Man called Jesus said that if you believe in Him, you would have everlasting life with him. Jesus is the Son of God.”

“I believe in the one God. I didn’t know He had a Son.”

“He does, and the Son’s name is Jesus.”

“How do you know He is God’s Son?” Mehida asked.

“There are many reasons. He raises the dead to life, He heals the sick, He speaks with the wisdom of the ages. The biggest reason I believe in Him, though, is because He speaks to my heart,” Joel said, gazing out the window. “Then, too, I was on the banks of the Jordan River when He was baptized by a prophet named John, and God spoke in a voice like thunder saying, “This is My beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased.”

Mehida listened in silence, looking thoughtful. Finally, in a very soft voice, she said, “If anyone but you had told me this, I’d think he was either lying, jesting, or out of his mind, but since it’s you who tell me, I believe you. Therefore I believe in Him.” She added wistfully, “I wish I could see Him.”

Mehida coughed and held her hands to her chest, and Joel looked alarmed.

“You need to rest, but I need to ask you one question,” Joel said. “You don’t have much time left here on this earth, Mehida. I sent a message to your daughter, but I don’t think she will get the message and get back here before you step across the river between here and heaven. Do you want me to tell her anything?”

“I might fool you yet, Physician. Remember when you thought Paulos would die? He fooled you, and now I might fool you, too.” Mehida grinned her old toothless grin. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“Yes, Mehida, you’re one amazing old woman, I agree. I just don’t want her to miss her mother’s last words to her.”

“Well, right now I think I have another day or two left. Maybe more. If I think I’ll die before Emma gets here, then I’ll tell you what to say to her.”

“It’s a bargain, Mehida. Now I’ll go outside and let you rest. I’m making some good chicken stew for you in a pot outside. It should be ready in an hour or two.”

Joel went back outside where Abidon was stirring a pot filled with one of Mehida’s old chickens and vegetables from her garden, and the air filled with the mouth-watering aroma steaming from the pot.

“Mehida doesn’t think she will die today,” Joel said.

“And do you agree?” Abidon blew on a spoonful of the stew.

“She feels well enough to argue, which might be a good sign she could be right. I hope she is. We will do our best do keep her alive until her daughter arrives, but I don’t believe she will. We can pray she will, but I don’t know how to work that miracle on my own. It will probably still be two weeks before her daughter can get here, if she gets here at all. The messenger we sent might or might not find her, and Mehida doesn’t want to give me any messages until she is close to death. I fear that if she waits that long, she won’t be able to tell me. On the other hand, if I press her for details, it could stress her to the point where her heart fails.”

“I’ll pray, too, Joel. As we have seen, miracles do sometimes happen. If only Jesus would pass by here, perhaps He would heal her.”

“Perhaps, Abidon, but I think she is willing to go. The only reason she holds on to life is because she hopes to see her daughter one more time. That is also what I pray for.”

“Then that will also be my request to the One God.”

Book Review: BECAUSE OF ME by Fay Lamb

2012-02-16T09:18:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this review by saying I'm entirely prejudiced; and no, I won't recuse myself. I just happen to know and love this over-energized, gifted, and caring author. I'm one of the dozens who critiqued this manuscript before it went to the editor. I so seldom found anything but a stray question mark to comment on that I'm really not sure why she even bothered to send the manuscript through the ACFW Scribes group.

Fay Lamb loves to write romantic suspense. This novel is no exception. On Page 1 where she introduces Michael, the hero, through a recurring nightmare the heroine, Issie (short for Isabelle) has. A recurring nightmare where she relives the worst day of her life.

On the last page, you finally exhale after holding your breath through thirty-one chapters of right and wrongful imprisonments, hatred, kidnappings, revenge, murders... Well, you get the picture. Stories of redemption and reconcilliation warm your heart at the same time that it freezes when the villain creeps out from under the pile of manure yet again.

I don't think I've ever read a book where the tension is stronger. Even knowing romantic suspense novels all have happy endings, you wonder page to page how this can happen in Issie's and Michael's lives. You'd have to read it to see what I mean.

Fay's book is available online as an e-book on Amazon and Barnes and Nobel, and hard copy directly from Fay website (signed!).

Just Thinking: Me First

2012-02-15T09:23:00.000-08:00

Here I am again, lecturing from the soapbox.

For those of you too young to understand "getting up on your soapbox," it just means that something sets you on fire enough to speak out. Way back in the olden days, some soap came shipped in wooden boxes--like orange crates, but sturdier. Oh wait--you probably don't remember orange crates either--but you get the picture. Enterprising orators grabbed the soap boxes and climbed up on them to give them the ability to broadcast their voices to listeners.

Too many folks in this world think, consciously or unconsciously, "me first." We are born one hundred percent selfish--maybe that's the Adam Nature you hear about. When a baby is hungry, he demands to be fed. Colicky--no way she's going to keep silent about her discomfort. Wet or stinky or tired, they'll let you know they're unhappy about their situation.

And that's a good thing, really, because there's no other way they can get what they need. They can't get food, change their clothes, or know the hurt in their tummy will subside if they wait awhile. They learn from us how to smile through their pain and take care of their own needs. In babies, it's cute or at least understood.

Oh, but then we become adults. We still indulge our hungers, seeking to fill those empty places within ourselves with things that don't satisfy for long. There's a God-shaped hole in us that nothing but God can fill, for instance. Not drugs, alcohol, toys, binge eating, sex, nor any person is able to fill that hole. Those things can make the hole less painful, but only God can satisfy that hunger.

We often do one other thing that proves that we still need to mature. How many times do you put your own wants above your responsibilities? If you have a debt, paying that debt comes before a vacation (no matter how desperately you think you need it), new earrings (even if they only cost $5), a tattoo (but it's in style), or clothes (mine are so 90s). Any indulgence you put before a debt is sin.

Let me repeat that: Any indulgence you put before what you owe someone else is a sin. It says for all the world to hear and see, "I'm still a child wanting my own way."

Grow up, kids. It's time.

"My Story" Tuesday: Kathi Macias, Author of NO GREATER LOVE series.

2012-02-14T07:08:00.000-08:00

(Note from Anne: Kathi's story of how she made that step from nominal to dedicated Christian stirs me from hair follicle to toenail. I hope it will touch your heart, too.)

Kathi:
I was not raised in a Christian home, though I thought I was a Christian and if anyone had asked, I would certainly have said I was. I assumed because I was born in America and my mom was once a Catholic and my German grandmother talked about her “Yesus” (Jesus) in her heart, that we too must be Christians.

In addition, I lived in a time when we still did the actual Christmas story at school. I even played the part of Mary in third grade, and one of the first passages of Scripture I memorized was Luke 2, as I heard it repeated so many times during rehearsals. I also went to church with friends anytime they invited me, so I had a smattering of Catholic, Baptist, Pentecostal, and nearly every other denominational teaching during my growing up years.

When I was fifteen I thought I wanted to be a nun and convinced my parents to let me live in a convent for a while. One Sunday afternoon when I entered the chapel for Benediction, I was struck by the fact that during normal mass we genuflected (knelt) on one knee upon entering the chapel but on two for Benediction. I asked a nun why and she said it was because during Benediction, Christ was present on the altar. Because I believed that Christ was the Son of God, I was blown away at the thought.

It was the first time I’d sensed my own sinful condition, and I thought, “If Christ is truly present on the altar, genuflecting on two knees won’t make me worthy to come into His presence. I could throw myself on my face and it wouldn’t be enough.” Discouraged and dismayed, I left the chapel and the convent and didn’t return to church for years—not because I didn’t believe in God or the basic tenets of the Christian Church (as best I knew them), but rather because I did and I felt hopeless to meet the requirements.

Approximately ten years later, with my marriage in trouble and feeling like a total failure, I called my mother (who, along with my brothers, had become a Christian by then) and told her of my troubles. She said one clear thing: “You need Jesus.” After I hung up I knelt beside my bed to pray.

It was the first time I saw anything close to a vision. In my mind’s eye I pictured myself on a crowded, dusty street. People were craning their necks to see something. Many were weeping or crying out. I looked to see what they were looking at, and I saw Jesus, stumbling toward me, carrying His cross.

I too began to weep, and as He drew up even with me, He stopped and looked up. I saw the blood and sweat on His face and body, but all I could focus on were His eyes as He looked past everyone else and straight at me. Then He said five words that changed my life forever: “I did it for you.”

That’s when I understood that I had been right those many years ago in that little convent chapel. There truly was nothing I could do to make myself worthy to come into God’s presence, but now I understood that Jesus had already done it for me.

That was July 5, 1974.

Book Review: GIVE US THIS DAY by June Foster

2012-02-11T10:06:00.000-08:00

June Foster's delightful debut book, Give Us This Day, released last week. It is available at this time only in e-book format--which doesn't seem to stop many people these days. It's a much less expensive way to build a library, isn't it? Um, if you don't count the e-book reader, anyway. But even then--after a few years, it's definitely less expensive!

Jess Colton, the hero in this book, is a flawed human being. Jess meets the heroine, Holly Harrison, in a stuck elevator in the upscale Seattle apartment building they both call home. Jess works to calm the panicky woman as he summons help from te apartment manager.

Holly is impressed with this gentle man. She looks through his size to the warm heart and begins to feel an attraction. She trusts him--but not with her secret--or secrets. No one knows them but her sister and her former boyfriend. And even he doesn't know the worst part of her secret.

Jess's overeating is hard to hide--he's huge. When he's around Holly, he restrains himself, but when she's not, he cannot. The sweets call to him with a siren song that he can't resist.

Both of them have well-meaning families who try to "help" them. Jess's father and sister constantly berate him about his weight, offering not only criticism but way too many suggestions. Holly's sister constantly reminds her of past sins and that God couldn't possibly love her or forgive her. The problem is that both Jess and Holly believe what they're told.

It takes a deadly crisis to bring them both around. But I'm not going to tell you what it is--you'll have to buy the book yourself to find out what happens...

Give Us This Day is available through Desert Breeze Publishing, Amazon, and Barnes and Nobel.

I am incredibly privileged to call June Foster "friend." If you looked up "sweetness personified," you would find her picture there. Her constant encouragement and love of God flow through this book.

Thank you, June, and may you produce many, many more books to build our faith even as we are entertained!

Fiction Friday, ONE MORE TIME, Chapter 37

2012-02-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 37 – JULY AND AUGUST, 30 CE – ON THE WAY HOME
Hamath stood and stretched. His stripes had healed. His paunch had disappeared replaced by muscle, and he had gotten used to the sparse meals. He had his own sleeping area in the shed with a ratty old linen blanket, but it was sufficient to keep him warm on these summer nights. Each night, they manacled him by one ankle to the back of the shed, but he’d learned to sleep with the discomfort.

Bildad rented the slaves to farmers or businessmen who needed laborers, and Hamath grew to anticipate those days with pleasure. When they worked for someone else, he could usually carry on furtive conversations with other slaves, and they ate better.

Hamath struck up a friendship with a young man by the name of Zillai, and he knew today they would be rented to a nearby farmer to build sheds for his sheep.

When they had been chained to the back of the farmer’s wagon and were far enough away from the slave holdings to speak safely, Hamath nudged Zillai. “How did you fare last night?” he whispered.

“Well enough.” Zillai chuckled softly. “The whip master must have been feeling kind hearted—not one lash.” Zillai was a more recent “recruit” than Hamath, and the young man hadn’t learned to hold his tongue yet.

“Where is your home—other than the slave sheds, that is?” Hamath asked.

“I’m an Arabian from Bozrah. I came to Jerusalem searching for the Man called Jesus. I came hoping to ask Him to heal my father.”

“Let me guess—you traveled alone?”

“Yes—mother often warned me I’m too impulsive, and this time I received the recompense for rash behavior. My father had been thrown from his horse, hitting his head on a rock, and wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t want to wait for a caravan. I jumped on my horse, told my mother where I was going, and left. Now Bildad has my beautiful stallion, Sultan, and I have a striped back. I know my mother wished me to learn a lesson, but I don’t think she planned for the lesson to be this severe. If I ever get free, I’ll go home and not leave so impetuously again.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I should also tell her she was right.”

“Did you find Jesus?”

“No. He left before I arrived in Jerusalem. I made a camp on the outskirts of Jerusalem not too far from here, and some men asked to warm themselves at my fire. I should have known better—it wasn’t cold. But I invited them to join me. I had a leg of lamb roasting on the fire. The next thing I knew, I was bound and they were eating my supper. You know the rest of the story.

“The worst is that I don’t know if my father is still alive or not. If he is, it’s at no thanks to my efforts. If he’s not, I’ll never have a chance to tell him goodbye or that I’m sorry for the times I disobeyed him.”

“That’s my problem, too. I hurt a lot of people. I’m even responsible for the death of two of my servants.” Hamath gulped and continued. “I desired one’s wife, and so I gave him to Bildad. Bildad said the man died of injuries. The other died trying to rescue me. This life is what I deserve. I do wish, though, that there could be a chance to say ‘I’m sorry’ to the people I hurt. That will probably not happen, now.”

“I won't give up. As long as we’re still breathing, a chance still remains that we might gain our freedom. Maybe some of our loved ones will send rescuers.”

“I hope not—I’m afraid they could wind up as we are. That’s what happened to me. I came to rescue the man I gave to Bildad, and here I am.”

“May the One God grant that we might have a chance to tell my mother, my father, and your people how much we regret our unwise actions!”

“Amen,” said Hamath.

The day ended far too soon. By the time the sun went down the sheds were finished, and the farmer took them back to Bildad’s slave compound.

“Did the slaves speak among themselves?” Chilead demanded of the farmer.

“If they did, I didn’t hear them,” the farmer responded. “Your slaves are silent. Why don’t you allow them to speak?”

“That’s none of your affair.” Chilead said. “It’s enough for you to know they’re not allowed to speak, other than to answer when you ask a question. Were they respectful to you?”

“Yes, they were respectful, and no, they didn’t talk among themselves.” The farmer sounded irritated at Chilead’s questioning. “Why do you grill me? I’m not your your slave. I paid for a day’s use of these men, and I don’t consider these questions part of the bargain.”

Chilead growled his discontent, but allowed the farmer to leave with no further questions. It wouldn’t do to kidnap someone this close to home—too many people would know where to come looking.

Hamath and Zillai had been returned to their shackles in the shed when a commotion began outside.

Bildad had returned. He and the men who went with him were talking—or arguing—with the men who had remained at the slave compound. Hamath could hear only snatches of the conversations. All of them were shouting at each other at the same time, but an occasional word would come through. “Ghost,” “slaves” and “no!” were the words most easily distinguished. Hamath felt curious, but thought offhand it might be nice if the whole lot of the slavers killed each other off. It was an hour or two before they ceased arguing, and the next thing Hamath knew, Bildad himself removed Hamath’s shackles.

“You are free to go.” Bildad said.

“I don’t care to be the sport of your men again, sir.”

“Go, or you will be whipped...” Bildad clapped a hand over his own mouth and looked around with wide eyes. “Just go. Go!” He stood and started toward the next slave.

“Wait—you stole my money and my horses and killed my servant. It seems you owe me.”

“Your servant, um, had an accident. Fell on his sword. Yes, that’s what happened. He fell on his sword.”

“That's a lie. I saw him killed,” Hamath said, despite the fact that he might be getting himself into increasingly hot water.

“Here—30 shekels. That is the payment for a slave. You are reimbursed. Now go. Leave this place, go home.” Bildad pushed Hamath toward the entrance of the shed, where several other slaves stood looking confused.

“Where are my horses?”

“Horses? The ghost said nothing about horses. Now get out of here. Or do you choose to remain a slave?” Bildad’s voice raised an octave.

Hamath thought he’d pushed Bildad as far as was wise. He left, walking south toward Jerusalem. For 30 shekels, he should be able to find a nag of some sort. Some of the other slaves were running now, outdistancing him, but Hamath picked his way with caution, not wanting to fall over a rock or a log in the dark. He hadn’t gone far when weariness overtook him. He and Zillai had worked a long hard day, and neither the farmer nor Chilead had fed them when they returned. In the confusion and dark, he didn’t see Zillai nor any of the other slaves that he knew.

Hamath lay down to sleep, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring the linen blanket in the shed. Ah, well, it felt somewhat warm this summer night.

He woke in the morning, his stomach growling. Maybe he’d use part of the 30 pieces of silver to buy himself a loaf of bread. He reached down for the bag of money Bildad had given him only to find it gone. Hamath searched where he lay sleeping, but the bag wasn’t there. He found footprints close to where he slept. He began to swear but caught himself. “Forgive me, Adonai,” he said aloud.

Hamath shrugged. No point in going south now. He turned, found the road north toward Nazareth, and began walking. He stopped at a farmhouse and asked for a crust of bread. The farmer’s wife eyed him in suspicion for a moment, but handed not only a loaf of bread but a piece of cheese and a skin of water as well. Hamath thanked the woman profusely and again followed the road north.

The going was hard. Many days Hamath went without food, and his stomach felt constantly empty. Whenever he met travelers or a came to a house, he begged for food.

“I’ll never again refuse anyone food who comes to my door, nor anyone who asks for help when I’m traveling,” he promised God aloud. Every crumb he received was gold.

"My Story" Tuesday: Christen Price

2012-02-07T07:54:00.000-08:00

A Wish That Came True

As I blew out the candles on my 25th birthday cake, I was ready for change to take place in my life. On that hot July day, my birthday wish was simple: Use me, God.

In the months that followed my birthday, change did begin to happen. First, I began my blog, The Uncontainable Truth, based on Matthew 5:17 which challenged me to let my light shine. In early November, I made the decision to quit my job so I could spend more time writing, and on Thanksgiving I discovered that I was pregnant.

In January, at our first ultrasound appointment, my husband and I were shocked to find out we were having twins. Soon, we learned that we were having identical twin girls and began to plan for their delivery in late July.

In April, around 27 weeks of my pregnancy, I woke up with a sharp pain. My husband rushed me to the hospital, and within minutes we discovered that I was fully dilated. I was quickly wheeled into surgery, and our girls were born weighing two pounds each. Not a cry was heard as they were rushed to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).
Later that day, we learned that both girls were in a very critical state because of their premature birth. Time crept by ever so slowly in the days that followed. Due to their constant battle with infections, we were only permitted to touch our girls through their incubators. It wasn’t until they had been in the NICU for a month that we were able to hold them in our arms for the very first time.

As our tiny babies desperately fought for their lives, Satan cornered me in the dark places of my mind. We were on a rollercoaster ride and the only thing that kept me on track was my faith. Over the course of our 83 days in the NICU, I began to see light through the darkness. I realized that if I gave my worry, fears, and shame to Jesus that he would replace them with peace, hope, and love. I began to understand that God was using our sufferings to glorify his name as we shared our journey through the blog.

After three extremely long months, our girls were healthy enough to leave the NICU. Through God’s perfect timing, we were able to bring them home on my 26th birthday, exactly one year after I whispered to God the desires of my heart.

Our NICU experience showed me the power of the Holy Spirit and how to let go of Satan’s stronghold in order to hold on to the truth spoken by Christ. I had asked God for a year of change, and as I happily blew out my twenty-six candles, I knew my birthday wish had been granted.

BIO:
When Christen isn’t being mom to her twin girls Adeline and Maralee, you can find her blogging away on her website, The Uncontainable Truth. In this community, she encourages her readers to let their light shine and shares her family’s rollercoaster ride of raising premature infants. She is a sweet southern gal that enjoys a life brimmed with love and creativity. In her spare time, she seeks pleasure in baking, sewing, photography, and painting. After graduating from Auburn University and marrying her best friend since high school, she calls Montgomery, Alabama home.

Blog: www.theuncontainabletruth.com
Events: http://theuncontainabletruth.com/events/
Twitter -http://twitter.com/#!/uncontain_truth

Book Review: ONE THOUSAND GIFTS by Ann Voskamp

2012-02-06T10:00:00.000-08:00

Can you see the peace and joy in this face? You would think she never had a worry or a trouble. One of those lucky people that all they have to do is sit in a chair and write. Probably has servants and lives in a castle, right?
Ann Voskamp could surprise you. She's a farmer's wife, home schools six kids, bakes her own bread, washes all the family's clothing. Those items by themselves could keep a person busy all day. Yet, she finds time to write a book that becomes a New York Times best seller, One Thousand Gifts.
Four years old when a truck runs over her little sister, she remembers the day clearly, and the memory haunts her life for too many years. Then someone challenges her to make a list of one thousand gifts--blessings received from God. At first there are too many challenges, too many opportunities to say "No!" to God. But she begins.
1. Morning shadows across old floors
2. Jam piled high on the toast
3. Wind flying cold wild in the hair.
The list begins to make her aware, to bring her to life, to lift her out of the past until she's able to constantly see all the blessings that surround her. She notices that Jesus gave thanks even when He knew this would be He last meal. She remembers during Eucharist.
Eucharisteo.
The Greek word means "thanks."
By the time she reaches one thousand (1,000. Resurrection bloom, an amaryllis, a gift a year in the coming), she knows she has only just begun. She has blossomed along with the amaryllis.
Mrs. Voskamp writes in prose, and by the end of the book, the words flow like leaves in a spring brook.
I highly recommend this book. I give it five stars. Although I won't be posting this review on Amazon--there are already 432 posted--I'm hoping that some of you will click on the links to see a bit more about the author and purchase this inspiring book. It could change your life.

Guest Post: Fay Lamb - GOD'S LEADERSHIP

2012-02-04T08:18:00.000-08:00

A note from Anne: I am so blessed to be able to call Fay my friend, and doubly blessed to share her devotional here on my blog. And perhaps triply blessed by the devotional. Take a read for yourself and see why.

GOD’S LEADERSHIP: AN AWE LIKE NO OTHER

"The fear of the Lord tendeth to life: and he that hath it shall abide satisfied; he shall not be visited with evil."
Proverbs 19:23

“It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”
Hebrews 10:31

On occasion a character will ask a question the author isn’t sure how to answer. Dig deep enough and a writer might find that the question is one she needs answered for herself. If we’re asking, it is logical to think this might be a teaching moment for our readers.

Recently, while writing a scene between a football coach and his favorite quarterback and team captain, the young man challenged the teaching of his angry, oppressive father saying, “I’ve been told a good leader is one that makes his followers fear him. Is that true, Coach?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but I needed an answer for the kid, for myself, and for my reader.

Proverbs 19:23 tells us, “The fear of the Lord tendeth to life: and he that hath it shall abide satisfied; he shall not be visited with evil.”

Because I fear my God and my Savior, I never fall into His hands. I am covered by them. I receive protection from my mighty King, and His word promises I will never be taken from His hold.

All about me, my enemies rage, yet Psalm 23 tells me God sets a table before me in their midst. Because I fear Him and not my enemies and because I follow in His ways, the Lord’s hands fill my cup with goodness and mercy.

The waters of troubles might billow and roll, but I do not need to be afraid. God bids me to keep my eyes upon Him, and I am able to rise above the crashing waves that threaten to pull me under. Should I take my eyes off of Him and be swept out to sea, He is the very lifeline that will bring me safely into His grasp.

When I walk with a reverence, with an abiding awe of my Father’s love for me, the past, the present, and the future have no hold. My Father is the Great I Am. And wherever I was, wherever I happen to be, and wherever I go in the future, His Word was, is, and will be a light for each step on my path, and His hands will bid me safely follow.

But what about those who disregard God’s love, those who do not fear Him, those who fail to accept the wondrous sacrifice He made for us? Hebrews 10:31 says, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” This same God who will one day take righteous vengeance upon His enemies is the same God that freely gave His only son so that no one has to fall into His hands. Instead, they can find protection in them.

So what did the coach tell this young man? He said, “When it comes to God, son, respect and fear are intertwined. Fear is reverence, and when we look to God with awe in our heart, He walks with us and guides us. Who are we that anyone should fear us? True discipline, the desire to do our best, is born of respect and not fear of retribution. Shouldn’t you and I lead by God’s example?”

And that, I discovered, is a question, that each leader should ask.

Fay Lamb
February 4, 2012

Because of Me:

Issie Putnam’s life took a detour the night she was raped at gunpoint in front of her fiancé, Michael Hayes. Instead of marrying Michael, a promising young investigative reporter, Michael, along with the man who attacked her and the man who held the gun on Michael, are imprisoned for conspiracy to assassinate the local district attorney—a crime Michael was trying to expose but had no intention of committing. Issie’s good name is ruined, she lost her perfectly-planned future, but she gained Cole, her son—born of that rape.

On the eve of her attacker’s parole, Michael, already released from prison, follows through on his plan to return to the small town of Amazing Grace and protect Issie from the madman who promised to seek revenge. There, he meets Issie’s seven-year-old son for the first time.

Can Michael learn to love the child Issie holds so close to her heart? Will Michael be able to protect the woman he loves from the man who will stop at nothing to destroy them all?

Purchase the book at: http://www.amazon.com/Because-of-Me-ebook/dp/B00722KIME/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1327670357&sr=8-1

Bio: Fay Lamb works as an acquisition/copyeditor for Pelican Book Group (White Rose Publishing and Harbourlight Books), offers her services as a freelance editor, and is an author of Christian romance and romantic suspense. Her emotionally charged stories remind the reader that God is always in the details. Because of Me, her debut romantic suspense novel is soon to be released by Treble Heart Books/Mountainview Publishing.

She has a passion for working with and encouraging fellow writers. As a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), she co-moderates the large Scribes’ Critique Group and manages the smaller Scribes’ critique groups. For her efforts, she was the recipient of the ACFW Members Service Award in 2010.

In 2012, Fay was also elected to serve as secretary on ACFW’s Operating Board.

Fay and her husband, Marc, reside in Titusville, Florida, where multi-generations of their families have lived. The legacy continues with their two married sons and five grandchildren.

Fiction Friday, ONE MORE TIME, Chapter 35

2012-02-03T09:40:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 36 – July, 30 CE – THE LIST

Jonas took Bildad's list to Dorcas’s house, and together with Dorcas, Paul, and Sarah noted all the names from Tyre. As they suspected, Mariah and Hamath were named.

“Do you really think this slaver will turn these people loose? What if no tragedies occur as promised?” she asked. “What will you do, follow him, count the people turned loose, and take revenge for those not turned loose?”

“That won’t be necessary, Dorcas,” Paul said. “Any bad thing that occurs to him now he’ll count as part of his punishment. He’s so superstitious some things will happen because he’ll make mistakes.”

“My wife’s name is way down at the bottom of this long list—if that’s her. Mariah is a common name. After all this time, I’m afraid to hope,” Jonas said, staring at his shaking hands. “Even if it is her, how would he be able to free her? He has probably sold her to someone else by now. And if she were freed, would she come back to us, or would she feel too ashamed—slavers aren’t kind and considerate to their captives, particularly women who can be used in ways that I’d rather not think about.”

“Jonas,” Sarah said softly, “All these years you have hoped and prayed that your wife would be found and that she’d return to you. You can’t stop praying and hoping now. Your prayer should be all the more fervent now.”

Jonas laid his head on his arms and began to sob, his shoulders shaking.

Dorcas reached out a hand and touched one elbow.

On Jonas’ other side, Paul put his arm around Jonas's shoulders. “Dear God, You know I hadn't been one to pray much, and I think this might be the first favor I’ve ever asked of You. Please, please, send Jonas’s wife and Hamath back to their waiting families.”

When Jonas had wept himself dry, he raised his gaze to his friends. “Thank you, my friends. I think I must now go back to the marketplace. People will be wondering if I’ve died and left my business to Dathan.” He took one last swipe at his eyes with his sleeve, bowed his farewell, and left.
~~~~~
Sarah walked in silence toward the kitchen, thoughtful about the events of the past few days.

Tamara met her mother at the entryway. “Mama,” she said, tugging at her mother’s tunic, “Why was Jonas sad?”

Sarah knelt in front of her. “Sometimes people cry because they have postponed crying for a long time—it just kind of builds up inside until it has to come out. Sometimes people cry because they are happy, and sometimes it’s because they’re sad. I think maybe Jonas was crying because he had postponed it for a very long time. His wife disappeared a long, long time ago, and now there’s a chance she might be able to come home.”

“My Papa came home. I’m going to ask Jesus to bring Jonas’ wife home, too. Jonas and Dathan must be lonesome without her, just like we were lonesome without Papa.”

“That would be nice, Tammy. That would be just the right thing to do, in fact. Maybe while you’re at it, you could also ask for Hamath to come home.”
Tamara squeezed her eyes and lips tight. “There, I did it,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.

Sarah smiled as she went on into the cooking area. The meal wouldn’t take long to prepare, serve, and clean up. That would leave her time to go to their house and do a bit of praying herself. Surely one more prayer couldn’t hurt.

There was considerable cause for rejoicing in the town over the next weeks. People who had been missing, some for many years, kept showing up. So far, Hamath and Mariah were still among the missing, but there had been an even two dozen people who were on Bildad’s list who had returned thus far. Word came from Sidon from Martha’s sister as well, saying missing people had reappeared.

Miraculous.

Book Review: THE RIDE OF A LIFETIME by Kitty McGregor

2012-02-02T13:20:00.000-08:00

Note from Anne: Before I write a review of a book, I like to find out a bit about the author, if possible friend him or her on FaceBook, and provide a link not only to a place to buy his/her book but also to his/her website.

Usually, that's pretty easy-beasy stuff, but Mrs. McGregor seems a little less one to shout her existance. But she truly does exist, I promise. She and her husband have an Appaloosa horse ranch in Oklahoma, and you will know (if you read her book) she loves the Lord and she loves writing.

Rodeo rider Luke McCade spent many years of paying brief visits to his wife and daughter and long months riding the rodeo circuit. When he decides to go home, he finds his teenage son Connor reluctant to accept him, especially when his father accepts a job in Oklahoma. As a died-in-the wool Texan, Connor categorically hates all things Oklahoman.

Luke and Hannah find a church to go to near their new home. Connor goes along, but finds it boring. Well, except for the cute girls. One is especially attractive--Emily. And Emily is attracted back. They have a youth group.

Hm. Could be okay--they do things like going to the mall, no indication that they study the Bible in any way, shape, or form. And the prayer Emily leads is...well...sorta sacreligious.

What is going on with this church? Luke and Hannah wonder, even Connor wonders. They're pretty sure this is where God wants them, but they're not happy with the activities--no Bible studies, no prayer meetings, and dull sermons.

They find out one evening when Connor brings a girls back to their home who needs help. It's certainly not what they expected.

If you click on the picture above, it will take you to Amazon.com to where you can buy the book. Go ahead. I dare you.

"My Story" Tuesday: June Foster, author of Give Us This Day

2012-01-31T13:54:00.000-08:00

Amazon.com
What a privilege to speak about God's mighty power. By His grace and the Holy Spirit, I came to live in His Kingdom.

Where to start? Maybe at the first. I was raised in a marginal Christian home where we never read the Bible or spoke about Christian beliefs. I can remember wondering about God. Was He real?
I didn't find the answer to that question until I was 32 years of age when my husband and I lived at Ft. Lewis, Washington. We had Christian neighbors who asked permission to take our two daughters to church. That was fine with me – to get them out of my hair on Sunday morning. I generally had to nurse a hangover anyway
.
Then one week, my two daughters came home from a home Bible camp with little Bibles in their hands. "Mommy, we asked Jesus into our hearts." Those words did something to me. After that I got up on Sunday morning and took them to church myself. If those two little girls could go to church, so could I. But I still wasn't sure if I believed in God.

The Lord is so creative and resourceful and knows exactly what will speak to our hearts. One New Year's Eve I stayed up late to watch an old movie And The Next Voice You Hear about a family who'd received a word that God was going to speak to them on the radio. The last scene showed everyone gathering in the church waiting for the broadcast. I remember going to bed and shedding tears. Somehow, I knew God was real then.

Many people talk about "the hour I first believed." I can't. My husband received orders to go to Germany. I attended the chapel on post and even became active in Sunday school. It was an extension of my day job to volunteer to teach Sunday school. The Holy Spirit continued to woo me. I remember getting a copy of The Way. For the first time, I could understand what the Bible said.

But then one day, a sweet Baptist friend and fellow teacher and I were in conversation on the phone. She asked me if I'd ever said the prayer of salvation. I couldn't remember a time when I had yet I felt like I was saved. My friend was so cute. "Well," she said. "There's no time like the present." I repeated the prayer with her on the phone.

After that, I joined a charismatic Bible Study and became filled with the Holy Spirit as so many were doing in the 70's. I can remember feeling so in love with the Lord. I was gloriously born again.

But the Lord had hurdles for me to jump. One was my husband who hadn't given his life to the Lord and couldn't understand what had happened to his old drinking buddy. I had everyone in my church praying for him. Patience paid off. After 12 years, he gave his life to God and is now a born-again believer. I always like to encourage people to never give up on your unbelieving loved ones.

Through the years, the Lord worked in my life perfecting me as gold. He had a lot of dross to burn away – alcohol, self-centeredness, distrust, and more. I'll never be finished until I see Him face to face, but hallelujah! That day is ahead, and I'll be with Him for all eternity.
June Foster

Thomas Nelson Review: STUCK Bible Study by Jennie Allen

2012-01-30T15:52:00.000-08:00

Jennie Allen put together his DVD-Based study because she experiences times in her own life when she becomes stuck. Outside, she was smiling and calm while inside battles raged. The study is principally for women but could also work for men. I would strongly advise separate studies in small groups.

The materials I received to evaluate didn't include the DVD, so I can't tell you anything about it. But I can tell you that this first chapter I did get for review is good. It would be fantastic for a women's group. There's only a couple of things to really consider before starting: complete trust in the women you meet with and complete honesty in your answers.

Don't worry about offending God. He already knows everything you think about, and He understands. Not necessarily condones, but definitely understands.

I love this quote from the study guide: "There is a tension that we feel. Most of us know we are stuck and imperfect, broken. But focusing on the reality of our brokenness usually brings about one of two disconcerting responses: we either run to the dark place of rebellion or to the seemingly safe place of covering it up. Shame follows us to both places."

Been there, done that. Wore out the T-shirt and bought another one. I can't tell you how many times I've run to the dark place or the seemingly safe place. Neither place is comfortable.

What a wonderful thing it would be to go through this study and work through the broken spots to the freeing place where His love is, don't you think?

Fiction Friday, ONE MORE TIME, Chapter 35

2012-01-27T08:44:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 35 - JULY, 30 CE – HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER
When Paul and Sarah were able to talk later, they decided a white robe drenched in olive oil, his skin and hair also smeared with the oil, might be enough in firelight to make him look ghostly. Red dye on the robe where his leg had been bleeding might be the convincing touch. They quickly made their way to Jonas shop to enlist his help.
When they told Jonas the plan, he laughed. “I can provide a white tunic dipped in olive oil. The greasier it looks, the more convincing it might be to Bildad. And if the bottom of the robe were black, it would look as if you were floating. Ah—I just had another idea, too. How about if I hide in the bushes and play a drum softly before Paul appears? I have a few other friends who could play trumpets...”
Sarah clapped her hands. “I can hardly wait to see his face!”
Paul turned to her and grasped her shoulders. “No, Sarah, you can’t be there. If anything goes awry and you were captured, you’d become a slave and might never see Tamara again. One of us has to stay with her, and it has to be you.”
Sarah hadn’t thought about the danger involved. “Oh, Paul, I don’t want you to be hurt or put into slavery again. What if this fails and both of you are captured?”
Jonas turned to Sarah. “There is danger, Sarah. You’re right, we shouldn’t do this. We can’t deprive Tamara of her papa again. Nor Dathan of his abba, I suppose.”
Paul shook his head in disagreement. “No, we have to do this, Jonas. Somewhere, the woman you love is in slavery enduring God only knows what. We have to try. Do you have friends who would go with us in case we get into trouble?”
Jonas nodded. “Several people in this town have lost members of their families to this slaver.”
“I have a few friends in Hamath’s household, as well,” Paul continued. “We will take as many reinforcements as possible, leave them in hiding and hope they won’t be needed.”
After they finalized their plans, Jonas began to close up his shop while Paul and Sarah made their way back home. Jonas and Paul would meet back at his shop at sundown with their friends.
Before they left, Paul held Sarah and Tamara close. “If we don’t come back in the morning, you will know the worst has happened,” he said. “We won’t be able to get back in the gate until it’s opened in the morning. I don’t expect anything to go wrong. Bildad is highly superstitious, and God knows he has a lifetime of guilt to plague him. Pray for us, okay?”
Tamara gazed at her Papa with tears in her eyes. “My friend Jesus said it would be okay. I told Him about it, and He says He will help you.”
~~~~~
Paul, Amad, and several of the other male servants and slaves went back to Jonas’ shop. Dorcas, Proteus, and Thecla had been informed of the plan, and they all gave their approval for the group to go with Paul.
Paul made his way with his friends to the marketplace. He was surprised how many men Jonas had with him. He had the robe, and it literally dripped with olive oil. A gruesome red dripped down the front. Jonas slaughtered a goat for the next day’s meal, and the blood made the crowning touch to Paul’s outfit.
The group made their way two or three at a time through the city gate, not wanting to go through in a large group and possibly put the slave caravan on the alert. Paul felt certain most or all of the slaves Bildad had were gotten by dishonest and unwilling means. In this age, sometimes people sold themselves into slavery to pay off debts, and sometimes unwilling debtors were sold to pay their debts. The men Paul brought with him were all in servanthood or slavery by choice or by inheritance. Jonas’ friends were probably all free men. It made no difference—they were united in purpose this night.
Paul didn’t don his ghostly robe or get himself oiled up until they were hidden in a cave not far from where Bildad was camped. They joked as they whitewashed Paul’s face and poured oil over Paul’s hair. It would take all the soap in Tyre to get him clean again. The robe was heavy—Paul was glad he didn’t have to walk far. They made their way across the intervening space between the cave and the slavers’ camp, and Paul was amazed at how quiet the thirty men could be. Paul worked his way forward, easing his way between one tree and the next until he was close enough to begin his play.
He stepped quickly out from behind a convenient bush, rising up to his full height. A soft drumroll began behind him. Trumpets blasted from all around the campsite. He deepened his voice and called out, “BILDAD.” All twelve of the men by the campfire jumped to their feet and fell over each other trying to escape the apparition, hiding in a large tent behind them. Even the grossly fat one, Bildad himself, moved quickly for one so heavy. Paul raised his voice and bellowed, “BILDAD! BRING ME BILDAD! BRING ME BILDAD NOW!” A louder drumroll echoed each of his dramatic pronouncements.
Three men came forward, dragging and pushing Bildad to the forefront. The man was seemed petrified and was kicking and scratching, trying desperately to get free of his captors. They pushed him to his knees.
“BILDAD—YOU HAVE SINNED!”
The man Bildad fell to his face cursing the loss of a lucky ring—his broad behind raised, his face pressed to the ground, and his hands extended pleadingly in front of him. “Wh-wh-who, m-m-me? How-how did I sin, sir?” he stuttered.
“BILDAD—YOU HAVE MADE SLAVES OF FREE PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROFITTED FROM THEIR MISERY.” Paul was enjoying himself now.
“Y-Y-Y Yes, sir. Forgive me, sir, who are you, sir?”
“I’M PAULOS, WHOM YOU LEFT ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.”
“P-P-P-P-Paulos??? B-B-B-But you were given to me by—by a f-f-friend. Honestly,” Bildad squeaked.
“SILENCE, POND SCUM! YOU KNEW THIS GIFT WASN’T HONEST.”
“Well, he said he did, the miserable liar, but I’ve had my revenge on him,” Bildad appeared to be forgetting some of his fear and started to rise from his prostrate position. Paul signaled behind his back for Jonas to increase the volume of the drums. Bildad pressed his forehead again to the ground.
“YOU AVENGED YOURSELF ON HIM?” Paul bellowed. (Loud drumroll) “YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO REVENGE. THE GOD OF ISRAEL WILL WREAK REVENGE ON YOU FOR ALL THOSE WHOM YOU HAVE HARMED?”
“Ooooohhhh,” Bildad moaned, “Please, no!”
“THERE IS BUT ONE WAY YOU CAN ATONE FOR YOUR SINS, BILDAD. YOU MUST REVEAL ALL THE NAMES OF THOSE YOU HAVE PLACED IN SLAVERY WRONGLY, AND YOU MUST FREE THEM.”
“I can’t do that!” Bildad cried, raising his head a little. “Besides, who would I reveal these names to? Uh, Sir?”
This had better be over soon, Paul thought. His voice felt strained and could begin cracking at any moment. “SILENCE YOUR FOOLISH BABBLING! IF YOU DON’T DO FREE ALL YOUR SLAVES, TRAGEDIES WILL BEGIN TO HAPPEN TO YOU, ONE FOR EACH PERSON HARMED, INCREASING IN INTENSITY UNTIL YOU ARE LEFT TO DIE, FRIENDLESS AND FORGOTTEN, AS YOU DID TO ME.” At this point, some budding comedian behind Paul howled like a stricken banshee. Paul almost lost it but was able to catch himself. “TOMORROW, A RABBI WILL COME TO YOU FOR THE LIST. IF THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT FREED TO GO TO THEIR RIGHTFUL HOMES, THE FIRST OF YOUR CALAMITIES WILL BEGIN.”
“Oh, I promise, sir, I’ll obey, oh, please don’t bring my poor old head to Sheol.”
“HASTEN TO ATONE FOR YOUR SINS, BILDAD. YOUR LUCK HAS RUN OUT AND YOUR TIME GROWS SHORT!” Slowly and smoothly, Paul backed up with the help of one of the men who made sure he didn’t stumble. When he was no longer in the firelight, he swiftly discarded the robe and wiped his face with a towel. The drumroll stopped suddenly, and the trumpets sounded one last loud, long fading note. Silently, Paul and his company brushed branches across his trail. Ghosts shouldn’t leave tracks. They made their way back to the cave where they caught a little sleep, wrapped in their cloaks, leaving one to guard the entrance. Just before sunrise, they proceeded two or three at a time to enter the gate of the city.
Jubilant, Paul went home, woke up Sarah and whispered the good news to her. “Bildad swallowed the bait.” Sarah hugged him hard.
~~~~~
Meanwhile, Jonas returned to the slaver’s campsite with a story of being awakened in the night by a ghost who said he was to get a list from a man named Bildad camped by the city gate. With hands that shook, Bildad delivered a long list. Bildad babbled his thanks and his assurance that he would atone for all his sins.
They were breaking up camp as Jonas left with the list, not once glancing at the list nor looking back over his shoulder at the now repentant slaver.

Book Review: THE SUBSTITUTE BRIDE by Janet Dean

2012-01-26T13:38:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm a little slow in my review. This book was released in 2010. But guess what--it's still good in 2012.

Elizabeth Manning had a choice: Either marry someone her father "sold" her to to pay his debts or run. She chose to run.

Her so-called intended was old enough to be her father, had really bad breath, and sported the table manners of a pig. Yep, she had to run.

She dropped herself from her bedroom to the ground below without mishap, but her bag of clothes didn't fare so well. No time to pick it up--run to the train station!

There she finds a would-be mail order bride in tears part-way to her destination, too homesick to go on. Sally Rutgers is crying because she wants to go home and she feels bad about not completing her contract to marry a farmer in New Harmony.

You guessed it--Elizabeth becomes Sally. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. But wait, what about that promise God made about bringing good out of everything that happens in our lives? Can He bring good out of even the deceptions we've fostered?

Elizabeth isn't the only one with secrets. Her new husband, Ted Logan, has a few things he hasn't shared with his mail-unordered bride, too.

Is this one time God can't untangle the web? Check out Janet Dean's book. And while you're there, you might find the others she's written interesting enough to read, too. Trust me, she's an accomplished historical romance writer.

Thomas Nelson Review: IT'S YOU. by Nicole Johnson and Mary E. DeMuth

2012-01-25T09:04:00.000-08:00

This Bible study and DVD is one of a series of three for teens. The other two are called "It's Us" and "It's Me."

The participant guide and DVD deal with friendships among teens, but I found it somewhat relevant to adults, too. Have you ever been involved in a vicious and hurtful gossip session? Have you lost a good friend through lies or actions? What might start out innocent can get magnified exponentially! What did you do? What would Jesus want you to do?

There are four sections in this study: Who Are You, Under the Influence, Katie and Sam, and About Tomorrow Night. It's further divided into your own study and group study. I'd like to hear back from teens who (1) have gone through this study or (2) who would like to.

Just Thinking: What if?

2012-01-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

What if this were a perfect world?

*Sigh* My perfect world would be one where nobody fought, everyone had an honest income, nobody went hungry, everyone reached out to help each other, no one was injured in traffic incidents or hiking accidents. No police, judges, or prisons would be needed. Animals and children would be safe from cruelty. Crops would never fail. Storms would never threaten. No one would beg for money or food at the WalMart parking lot. No one would shiver in the cold. Everyone would greet each other with hugs and smiles. No one would cheat on his/her spouse. Marriages would last forever.

If I were queen of the world... But I'm not and never will be.

Even if I were, the only way to make that world perfect would be to automate everything.

Including people.

I wonder if God ever thought about erasing his entire creation (including Noah) and starting over with puppets. People who had no choice but to be kind. People who wouldn't be able to steal another's belongings. People who could only walk where directed, talk as given the words by God, and think only good thoughts. People who could worship only Him and never self-serving phony gods. People who would not put money before family, glamor before goodness, listening before boasting.

What if.

Well, we know that won't happen. God didn't create puppets. He created people with free wills, even though that free will got them into trouble many times during their lives. Wisdom comes with age and experience--sometimes. With submission to those in legitimate authority (like parents, teachers, law authorities). To God.

Knowing that someone in authority cares about you and what is best for you makes it a little easier to submit, but it's seldom in our nature to give in to someone else's wisdom, is it? No, we still want to learn for ourselves what hurts and what doesn't. Still need to find out that something that feels good now sometimes hurts later.

What if..

What if there were Someone who knows everything about you (where you've been, good and bad) still sent His only Son to find you and rescue you from yourself. This is one "what if" that actually works.

Jesus is the only One who can really lift you out of selfishness, greed, willfulness. Trust Him. He cares. And--He's a lot smarter than you will ever be.

All you have to do is ask.

"Jesus, please come into my life. I need You."

Guest Post by Zeke Lam, author of subMISSION

2012-01-21T12:59:00.000-08:00

Preparing for Obedience

So often we cry out to God for His working in and through our lives. We beg for His will and plan to become clear to us day by day. In those quiet moments when we feel as if God has forgotten about us, our only yearning is His leading. In this condition of longing for His voice, it is absolutely critical that we prepare ourselves to respond when the call comes forth.

Preparing for obedience is about daily crucifying the desires of our flesh so that the works of Christ can be manifested in our lives. Galatians 2:20 states: “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I that live, but Christ living in me: and that life which I now live in the flesh I live in faith, the faith which is in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself up for me.” Why is this so critical one might ask?

Often times, God may bring forth a call that does not come close to what you had in mind. He may ask you to sacrifice in ways you never imagined. He may ask you to do things you never thought you were capable of or comfortable with. If we do not prepare ourselves for absolute obedience, the call may come and we may not answer.

When we crucify any and all personal, fleshly desires and willfully submit to God’s purpose for our lives, we position ourselves for His glory. As we daily surrender to Him, His desires become our desires and we prepare our hearts to obey no matter what God asks of our lives. In this spiritual condition, we remain active and ready to respond to His call upon our lives.

Consider an athlete for example. Often times they know not when that BIG moment will arrive, but he or she must steadfastly prepare for that "such a time as this" moment. Are you daily preparing yourself for obedience? If not, one of two things will happen. 1) You will not hear the call. 2) You hear but do not have the courage to obey. God has a mighty plan for you! Prepare to respond to the call.

Faithfulness and intimacy with the Father is the only way to ensure that you and I remain in a condition that is prepared to obey His voice when it is our time to be used. Consider Abraham as you analyze and ponder this subject.

Because he pursued a relationship with God, Abraham was willing to offer his son as a sacrifice. Abraham could have rationalized in a number of ways. First, this was his son! Who could possibly slay his own flesh and blood? Also, Isaac was the promised seed. Sacrificing him had to appear contrary to God’s plan. Despite these two intense factors, Abraham prepared his heart to obey the command of his Father.

The question is not, “will God speak?" The question is, “will we obey?"

ZEKE LAM is the author of subMISSION, a book that draws readers closer to the Savior. He is also the founder of subMISSION Ministries—a ministry devoted to seeing lost souls encounter God and live lives fully surrendered to the risen Christ.

A graduate of Liberty University, Zeke’s deep passion for following Christ’s will has led him through many years of youth ministry and itinerant evangelism. These experiences have enriched and fueled his desire to hand others the keys to a Christ-centered life. Zeke resides in Virginia with his beautiful wife, Kathleen, and a growing family of future world-changers.

Fiction Friday - ONE MORE TIME, Chapters 33 and 34

2012-01-20T09:24:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 33 - JULY, 30 CE - SUPERSTITION
Bildad began preparing for a journey. Word had reached him of a man who had neighbors he wanted to be rid of. There were always other careless wanderers to be had in the area. The people there never learned they shouldn’t go to anywhere alone. He chortled to himself.

Bildad rubbed his fat hands together in glee and kissed his ring. Ah, yes, as long as I have my lucky ring, good fortune follows me like a new lamb follows its mother. He and a select crew left the slave holdings, leaving Chilead in charge of the slaves left behind. The whip master remained, too, and knowing the slaves’ dread of the man, Bildad felt confident his shed full of slaves would continue intact until his return.

Bildad and his men made a few stops on the way north, picking up the odd lone traveler or wanderer here and there to add to his collection. It took a full day of training before these new “recruits” saw the light, allowing Bildad and his band to travel on.

When they stopped in their usual camping place just south of Tyre, it was late morning. Bildad went into the brush a distance to hide himself while he squatted to relieve himself. With great effort, he raised himself. He kicked leaves over the mess and walked back to the camp, ordering slaves to raise the tents, gather wood, prepare the meal, and care for the horses.

Long after sundown he noticed his precious lucky ring was missing. Frantic, he ordered his men and slaves all to get on their knees and search the campsite, but nothing was found.

Distraught, Bildad sat down on a log by the campfire, peering with anxiety into the dying flames. He was sure the ring must be in the fire and feared it might melt. In the morning, he’d sift through the ashes—the ground would be much too hot to sift through now, even after they let the fire go out. He lowered his face to his hands and cursed fluently.

A loud drumming sounded from the other side of the campfire. He and his men jumped to their feet and looked around, startled and more than a little worried—after all, their activities weren’t exactly legal. The Roman soldiers could be coming after them.

Loud trumpets began to blow from all around the camp, and Bildad gazed through the high flames from the campfire to see an apparition floating in the brush.

CHAPTER 34 - JULY, 30 CE – THE PLOT THICKENS
As Sarah approached the marketplace, Jonas stepped out and waved her to his shop. When she entered, he whispered, “Please stay until I finish with these men. I have news.” He negotiated quickly with the two for canvas and sent them on their way.

Jonas walked toward her with a bounce in his step. “The slave master who took Paul is camped next to Tyre, south of the entrance from the mainland,” he said. “Paul said he might be able to convince the slaver to share some information.”

“If anyone could, Paul could,” Sarah grinned. “Especially if he could convince that slave master that some serious harm might come to him if he didn’t share the information. I’ll tell Paul this morning, as soon as I finish up here and go back home.” She waved goodbye and purchased the nuts and spices she came after.

When she got back to the house, she found Paul teaching the children in their play room. “Paul,” she whispered in his ear, “the slave master is back. He is camped south of the entrance from the mainland.”

Paul nodded. “Let me finish up here, and then we’ll do some planning.”

“Okay. I need to go fix some lunch anyway.”

She left for the cooking area thinking it would be wonderful to have a real hamburger. Odd what could sound good—she really wished she could fix French fries. The thought made her salivate. However, it would be a few centuries before potatoes would be introduced to this part of the world, so that dish was definitely out. There was no reason she couldn’t make a hamburger, though. She took a chunk of beef and began to chop it into small pieces. When she was satisfied with the result, she mixed the meat with an egg to help it stick together, added in chopped onions, garlic, and several spices, and cooked it on an iron plate. She sliced the flatbread lengthwise, placed the meat in the middle, added a thin slice of onion and a leaf of lettuce, and presented the result to Dorcas and the children.

Tamara, who continued to take her lunch with the other three children, noticed the dish. “Hang-gabers!” She bounced up and down on the bench.

“Hang-gabers?” asked Dorcas.

“They’re called hamburgers,” Sarah said. “It’s a treat well known in the fut—ah, to us, uh, before we came here.” She glanced at Darius, Gideon, and Orphah, but it didn’t seem they noticed her near gaff.

Dorcas wiped hamburger juice from her lips. “Your culinary expertise is impressive, Sarah.”

Sarah laughed, wondering what her former friends would think of the idea that a hamburger was elegant cuisine. “Thank you, Dorcas. I’ll be happy to make hamburgers again for you any time you like.” Hm. What might they think of onion rings?

Book Review: Whisper on the Wind by Maureen Lang

2012-01-19T10:39:00.000-08:00

This World War I novel takes place in Louvain, Belgium where a young man risks his life to publish an undergrand newspaper, La Libre Belgigue. Edward Kirkland and his family had been owners of an exclusive hotel in Louvain, now a mass of debris and ashes. Isabelle Lassone's wealthy parents had lived in Louvain and often sent Isa to the hotel to spend her time with the Kirkland family. Now Belgium was occupied by the German army, and here she was stealing her way INTO Belgium.

Edward thought of her as a spoiled child, even though his mother loved her as her own. Even though Isa was now a grown woman. Despite the fact that she loved him even more than she had as a youngster. In spite of her goal to get Edward and his mother and brother out of Belgium to freedom.

Therefore, Isa now has multiple problems. She must hide the fact that she snuck into Belgium. She regains control of her parent's home, and she must use it to hide Edward and his illegal printing press and to provide a safe home for his mother at the same time that a German officer recovers from wounds upstairs. And she must ward off the attentions of an attentive officer who takes offense at women who refuse his advances.

This is an intense view of The Great War and the hardships in an occupied country. Follow Isa and Edward as they struggle to accomplish impossible goals. Even knowing a historical romance usually has a happily ever after, Whispers on the Wind kept me guessing until the end. I'm thinking you will, too.

Well done, Maureen.

Just Thinking: Dependent

2012-01-18T08:35:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone.
So sorry I haven't been posting. The satellite provider had a downed satellite. Which means,in short--no Internet, no blogs. Three days incommunicado. Aggghhh.

Yesterday, I went to town and used my hotspot to grab some Internet time. I wasn't able to do a lot because at the same time, the new church treasurer and I were struggling through a year-end report, but at least I whittled down the 175 emails to a mere 100. The rest I dealt with after returning home when the Internet had decided to work again.

What's funny about this is that in our Bible Study on Sunday we talked about anger and how we often become angry at inanimate objects. Like satellites. Like Internet--or the lack thereof.

It was a struggle not to take out the anger on the technicians. I called Hughesnet and spent about an hour and a half on the phone with them, then Linksys for another hour, then back to Hughesnet where someone finally told me their satellite was down.

I can't believe how dependent we've become on the Internet. Wouldn't it be neat if we were just as dependent on God? Then again, maybe I am. What if God shut off his presence for three days? Don't know about you, but I would be devastated.

Which brings up another thought--how did God the Father feel when He was out of contact with His Son for three days?

Thomas Nelson Review: TAKE ACTION BIBLE

2012-01-14T15:38:00.000-08:00

The Take Action Bible is a red letter (Jesus' words written in red) New King James Version Bible with five action sections inserted into both the old and new testaments. Thomas Nelson teamed up with World Vision to put out a Bible to inspire people to make a difference in their communities, in their countries, and in their world.

The action sections, labeled "Go,""Serve," "Give," and "Heal," contain short inspirational stories of a few people who took action in each of the areas, two thought-provoking questions, and a place for notes.

In case you're not familiar with it, the New King James Bible is an easy-to-understand version of the King James, updated to more modern English. It's long been one of my favorites, perhaps second only to King James.

When I became a Christian, the King James version's was first choice among most folks--which means it's been a few years. I welcomed the New King James to my growing stash of Bibles. I think you'll enjoy this one, especially with all the special sections.

Check this one out and see what you think at Thomas Nelson.