“Notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.” –Friedrich Nietzsche–

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Unforgettable Fall

by Debbie Allen

Every Fall my heart is lured into the unfailing beauty infused into every corner of creation this time of year.  This season enlivens my heart like no other!  Reds, golds, scarlets, and tinges of burnt orange invade the unsuspecting, green landscapes of the dying summer season without regret.  From cityscapes to mountainsides, to our own backyards, these bursts of unforgettable colors reveal themselves as a virtual feast of beauty for our eyes and our hearts to revel in.  I also sense a level of beauty on display in its midst, from which a silent message flows out into the world.  A message intended to awaken the soul.

Nearly a year ago, I sat warming my hands on a cup of coffee; watching an autumn breeze tugging leaf after leaf down from a Cottonwood tree in my backyard.  Seeing those leaves piling-up on the ground below reminded me of something my Grandmother always said when my brothers and I were kids. In the middle of helping her rake her yard every year; she would drop her rake and chase after us with handfuls of fallen leaves.  Then she’d sprinkle them down onto our heads, proclaiming, “Fall has fell and all is well!” 

Though her words brought back a flood of warm memories, as an adult, I knew there was no truth in them.  You see, in spite of the fact that Fall had fell… all wasn’t well.  As a writer, I found myself in a slump.  This particular season was filled with what I labeled, a lack of inspiration.   I’d written numerous pieces but, I either didn’t finish them or I filed them away for my eyes only.  What’s worse, I didn’t post one new story on my blog site for almost an entire year.  I simply laid my pen down and walked away for a time.  The trouble is, in doing so, I also walked away from what God has been calling me to do since childhood…to write. 

  Truthfully, this entire scenario came about because I succumbed to the lie being whispered into my spirit, that I wasn’t impacting this world with my words the way I thought I should be by now.  Thoughts like that don’t come from God.  They bear the marks of the enemy of my soul. The one who would do or say anything to keep me from pursuing the dreams God placed in my heart, before I was even born.  Dreams He graciously, coupled with the gift of writing words in this life that reflect the reality of God’s Presence in our world and His Infinite Love for humanity. God allowed me to wandered around in the dark woods of my own wrong-thinking for a time; before He stepped in and showed me something precious.  Something I’d lost sight of.  His Beauty and Purpose can still be found; even on a wayward path.

 One crisp, autumn morning, God drew my eyes up into the cottonwood trees in my own backyard.  I watched leaf after golden, leaf tumble down to the cold earth below.  Each leaf pulling away from the branch …the only source of life it had ever known. The longer the leaves laid on the ground, the browner and more withered they became.

“Who trades life in the heights, in the glory and warmth of the sun; for the sure death that awaits them below?” I asked myself, basking in the sunshine still streaming through the bay window. 

 Watching an even greater pile of leaves accumulating on the ground; imagine my surprise to hear God’s Voice whispering in my spirit; countering my random question with a question of His own. 

“Who will care for the fallen ones?”

 You could have heard a pin drop in the depths of silence that flooded my soul in that moment. In the next few seconds, God allowed the eyes of my heart to envision an abandoned, rake laying motionless on top of that pile of leaves I’d just watched fall to the ground. Then the words of Matthew 9:37 came marched across my mind.  “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.”

“The fallen ones,” I uttered, humbly realizing that the Lord was speaking directly to me.  Addressing the writer who’d abandoned her pen; and chose to sit idly-by in a season piled high with Humanity’s own fallen ones.  It couldn’t have been any clearer to my heart at this point, that God was no longer talking to me about leaves… He was talking about lives. Lives, that cost Him the life of His Son, Jesus. Lives, who either willingly, or in ignorance, continue to pull away from the only Source of True Life they could ever know; tumbling aimlessly towards the sure and eternal death awaiting them below.

Needless to say, I picked up my pen that afternoon and haven’t laid it down since. Now, almost a year to the day, I see once more, those golden leaves pulling away from their branches on my Cottonwood tree. They are vivid reminders to me of all the fallen ones in this darkening world we live in. Somber reflections of all those who continue to live life on the ground; instead of in the heights. Watching each golden leaf pull away from its branch and fall from its heights to the pile below it; my spirit senses deeply that the harvest grows greater and time grows shorter. I hold onto my pen a little tighter these days, praying that God uses the words He gives me to write, to touch and change the hearts they pierce.  As I ponder the times we are living in, I can’t help but ask this question once more, with a renewed perspective:

 “Who trades life in the heights of Heaven, in the Glory and Splendor of The Son; for the sure and Eternal death that awaits them in Hell below?”

Only God knows the answers to this question. 

Words still fail me… as I ponder the gravity of the Eternal consequences I see written across the fall season by His Divine Hand. Beautiful and heart-rending images, placed high up in the trees; that speak silently of life and death and the choices that lead to them both. Whether its leaves we are speaking about or lives… I know that my writer’s heart has been forever changed by them both in the unexpected story of this Unforgettable Fall.

“Only with Your instruction can I understand life.” (Psalm 119:104)

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Dearest Lord and Heavenly Father…help me to remain steadfast in my faithfulness to share the gift of words You have given me to bring glory to Your Name in this fallen world. May we never lose sight of the fallen ones all around us. Help us, Your children, to be obedient to our callings, in spite of setbacks. To be faithful even when we are discouraged; and courageous and obedient in the pursuit of Your Truths…even in the face of opposition.  May we, like the prophet, Jeremiah, never forget that You, our All-Powerful God, are on our side. 

“I’m on your side, taking up your cause.” (Jer. 51:36) “Therefore, He says, ‘Don’t lose hope.  Don’t ever give up!’” (Jer. 51:46)

IN JESUS NAME…AMEN  

 

DEEP and WIDE

by Debbie Allen

Bracing himself up against a twisted pine tree, Shannon, former sniper and and ex-marine, aligned the scope on his gun with his intended target’s head. Having completed five tours-of-duty in Afghanistan, his instincts were always on high alert. Like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his unsuspecting prey; Shannon waited for his target to step further out into the meadow, just a few hundred feet away.  Slow and steady, Shannon pulled his trigger and watched his victim fall to the ground.  Pulling himself back behind the pine boughs to reload, he listened to the chaos which ensued on the other end.

“Get down…enemy fire… Zeke’s been hit!”   

Mustering a half-smile, Shannon thought to himself how many lives he’d taken overseas without ever having known their names.   “It was probably better that way…easier.” he concluded silently.

“It came from that direction!” another voice cried out from the meadow, shooting a few rounds of their own back into the forest in retaliation. 

By the time Shannon repositioned himself to take another shot, he realized that he, too, had been hit.    Looking down at his foot, he saw a pool of red streaming down into his boot.  Angry now, that such random, enemy fire ever found him in the first place; he aimed with deadly accuracy at the enemy once more. Seeing them advancing in his direction, he fired off three more rounds in rapid succession.  Each one found its mark, leaving three more of the enemy writhing in pain, or motionless and face-down in the tall grasses of a once peaceful meadow on a Colorado mountainside.

This battle… The Battle of Bachelor Hill… never made it into the American History books but, it lives on in the memories of those few men who fought it.   Though each, in his own way, became a casualty of war that day… all of these young men rose from the battlefield at the end of that day to regale their own bloody tales of both defeat and heroism; as they sat around a mutual campfire in a Grand Lake campground.  The blood spilled in this battle came only from the red and blue paint-balls being shot back and forth between my son, Trevor, his brother, and three friends.  All of them joined this mountain getaway to celebrate Trevor’s week-long, bachelor party/camping trip.  This, however, wasn’t the only battle Trevor ended up fighting before the week was over.

Early the next morning, Trevor and his friends, Shannon, Zeke, and Aaron, hiked up to Grand Lake with the idea of swimming out to a little island a few hundred feet out from the shoreline.  Zeke took one look at it and backed out of the challenge that he himself had originally initiated. Shannon was the first to jump in the water without giving it much thought because…once a marine always a marine!  Trevor, like the others, was sleep-deprived and hung-over; but he jumped full-force, into the stinging cold, lake water; attempting to swim like a marine towards the island. About halfway across, reality hit him. He wasn’t a marine.  What was he trying to prove!  His limbs felt like lead. Panicked, his breathing grew shallow and His arms flailed in the frigid waters; now beginning to pull him under.  

“Someone help… me…I… I’m going to die” he cried out silently, choking and sputtering.  Still thrashing the waters in a desperate attempt to stay afloat; Trevor’s hand brushed against something in the water.  About to go under again, he spotted something protruding from the water near him.  Grabbing for it with all the strength he had left, he clung to it tightly. Relieved and grateful that it was sturdy enough to keep him afloat, he realized that he was clinging to the top of a pine tree that was growing underwater.  Still gasping for breath and shivering from the waters that nearly drowned him, he caught sight of Aaron, who swam up alongside him, asking with great concern, “Trevor…are you alright man?”

“I…I’ll be ok…go on ahead. I…just…need to…rest.”  Trevor struggled to get out.

“No…I’m not going to leave you out here to drown!” Aaron assured him.

And he didn’t. After Trevor rested there long enough to catch his breath, Aaron swam alongside him until they both reached the sandy shores of the island.  Shannon’s hand was there waiting to help pull them both up and out of the water and onto dry land. Tales around the campfire that night were much, much quieter.  Minus Zeke, who really had no tale at all to tell; these young bachelors/weekend warriors, raised their glasses a little higher than all the other nights past; toasting the fact that they had no casualty (Trevor), to speak of, in that final battle on the lake; on that final day! 

 Fighting for his life in the middle of Grand Lake that day was not a battle Trevor ever expected to encounter…nor was it a battle he could’ve ever won on his own. Clinging to the underwater, pine tree in the lake that morning, his heart came to understand personally what his eyes had been unable to see before. That the chasm between he and the shoreline was far too wide, and the water was way too deep for him to tackle in his own failing strength.

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“God always provides just enough, just in time!”

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All of us live in a world of choice and consequence. All of us have, at some time in our life, suffered because of it. Trevor understood this better than anyone by the end of his bachelor’s camping trip.  But I believe there’s a much bigger picture being portrayed in Trevor’s story.  I see a man in a life and death situation; struggling in his own strength just to keep his head above water. A man who, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t make the swim to the opposite shoreline where his marine/warrior friend stood waiting for him with great concern. In that moment when things seemed the most hopeless, a pine tree growing underwater shows up on the scene and provides a way of rescuing Trevor from drowning. Clinging to the top of that pine tree, he heard the voice of his friend, Aaron in the midst of his worst nightmare; reassuring him that he wouldn’t leave him and he’d stay by his side until they both reached the opposite shoreline. Ironically, Aaron was a fireman by trade; a living, breathing example of what it looks like to willingly risk all to save the life of another.  

If ever there was a snapshot of Heaven, this is it!  That pine tree was no accident in the lake that day. I believe God placed it there at just the right time to save a life…my son’s life. He did something similar in our world over two thousand years ago when a world-full of men and women were drowning in their own sins and needed a Savior to rescue them. God placed His Tree outside of Jerusalem on a hill called Golgotha.  His Son, Jesus, died on that Tree (the Cross), for you and I.  It’s that Tree that we can still cling to; and be saved from drowning in our own sins…rescued from a sure, eternal death.  We cannot make it on our own.  The chasm between life and death is too deep and too wide for any of us to make it in our own strength. Don’t choose to just drown in your sins. Open your eyes and see the Tree God’s placed in those deep waters for you. Reach out and cling to that Tree and be rescued! Cry out with the psalmist, King David, in the midst of his own troubles,

” I cling to You; Your Right Hand upholds me.” (Psalm 63:8 NIV)

Strain to hear the Voice of the One there by your side in your darkest hour, promising you,

 “When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you.  When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down.” (Isaiah 43:2a MSG)

And when you reach the opposite shore where He stands waiting for you, even now; take His Hand and find joy in the sounds of His Voice when He pulls you ashore and welcomes you into His Presence with these words.

“The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves!”  (Zephaniah 3:17a NIV)

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What is it that you are facing today that’s greater than you are? Do you feel yourself drowning in the circumstances surrounding you now? Are you still grasping at straws in life, in an effort to try and keep your own head above water…or are you ready to use what strength you have left to reach out and cling to the Tree God’s provided for you in the midst of all your troubled waters?

PRAYER: Dearest Heavenly Father, it’s not hard to see we live in a world of choice and consequence. Though this is true, You tell us in Your Word that even in the direst of circumstances, we are not to fear, for You’ve already made a way for us. Give us the strength to reach out and cling to the Tree You’ve already provided for us at just the right time in our troubled life. Even when we are sinking, remind us to open our eyes and see Your Presence before us. If we are to sink into anything in this life, may it be into the knowledge of “…how wide and long and high and deep” Your Love is for each and every one of us. IN JESUS NAME, AMEN

Dear-in-the-Headlights!

by Debbie Allen

My husband, Jim, and I were driving to dinner one Friday night; when I noticed her. Just another pedestrian on foot… maybe a stranger-in-passing.  Or so I thought.   As I studied the woman, while waiting at the same stoplight intersection; there was something so familiar about her.  I watched her hunched, figure step down off the curb into the crosswalk with great difficulty; as she wrestled with the reluctant piece of luggage behind her.   In the glow of headlights surrounding her, she turned her head in our direction; just long enough for me to glimpse the dear-in-the-headlights look that overwhelmed her gaunt, expression.  My heart sank.   It was her.  The Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase. I couldn’t believe those ragged wheels were even still turning. That battered, blue, suitcase-on-wheels was her trademark.   Sadly enough, over the years it had also become her name.  She’d roamed the city limits with it trailing behind her for over 40 years now…homeless.  Business establishments in the area recognized her by it; teens passing her by on the street taunted her because of it, and policemen identified her by it.  What a great testimony for a piece of luggage; but what an incredibly sad story it tells about the life still towing it behind her.            

“There goes the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase!” I told Jim, with mixed emotions.  I was relieved to see that nothing happened to her after all this time, but saddened by the toll homelessness had taken on her; both physically and mentally. In days gone by, when I saw her crossing a busy street, she’d shake a clenched fist at speeding cars; shouting her own blend of obscenities back at every passing driver. Her brazen behavior, while standing in the middle of the street, added a whole new meaning to the term, road rage. Seriously though… I remember praying for her safety many times over the years. And now, here she was in front of me once more.  It was clear that things had changed for her.  Yelling out colorful words and raising angry fists had long since been replaced by extreme shortness-of-breath and two mis-shaped, weathered hands giving it all they had just to drag the old, blue suitcase up on the curb one more time.   As the stop-light turned green and we pulled away, I watched the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase shuffle down the roadside; her heavy load in tow. My heart ached for her and I found myself praying for her again.  I couldn’t help but wonder what tears and trials and tales of woe may await her in the days up ahead.

 As my husband and I pulled up to the restaurant, my heart was flooded with questions about the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase.  After we ordered our meal, every question once silent inside of me; flooded out into our dinner conversation. 

“What must it be like to live your entire life on the streets, surrounded by a hostile, world of people that turn their heads and pretend they don’t see you; or shake their heads in disgust at the very sight of you? To never hear the words, ‘I love you’…or ‘It’s going to be ok.’ How would it be to never experience the peace of knowing where you will sleep at night…what you will eat…or how you will keep warm, stay cool, or be safe?”

“It’s gotta be tough.” Jim responded, compassionately.

Her dear-in-the-headlight expression continued to haunt me. It was a look of such utter despair.  Her sunken eyes told my heart a silent story of time growing short; in a journey that had grown so long.

“You know,” I told my husband, “…even after seeing this lady around town for over 40 years, I don’t even know her name.  The closest I ever came to our paths even intersecting was while standing in line at a Starbucks, right before management booted her out of the building for having used the facilities for her personal dressing room.”

“Kirsten…” Jim blurted out right after that.

“What did you say?” I responded.

“Her name is Kirsten.”

After I recovered from the shock of Jim knowing the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase’s name; he went on to share with me how a co-worker of his at King Soopers, sat down and spoke with Kirsten one late night, while on a break.  You see, Kirsten was given permission by King Soopers for a short time, to spend the cold winter nights sleeping in a chair at one of the tables near the Delicatessen; as long as she was gone before opening the next day.  It turns out that Kirsten, though homeless for the last forty years, had both a home of her own and a daughter who lived there!  Kirsten shared that she was afraid to go home for fear of being put into a mental institution.  She chose homelessness for most of her life; over living in her own home with family because she feared the lifestyle change that may or may not have come with that choice. Was that fear founded on fact? I don’t know and probably never will. But the reality of that fear in Kirsten’s mind caused her to run in a direction she was never meant to go in. No one knows the depth of the pain and struggle behind Kirsten’s story except God Himself.

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“A decision always accompanies the battles we face— God’s Way or our own.” —Chuck Swindoll–

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 I don’t doubt that His Heart broke every day He looked down and saw Kirsten huddled in a rainstorm, under a make-shift tent on a shopping-center median; eating from a can she opened with a screw driver.  A can, which had been thrown at her by a passing motorist in an attempt to share his indignation with her lifestyle. 

“Get off the streets…you’re nothing but an eyesore in the city!” he’d shouted at her as he sped by.

 The ironic thing about this incident was that the can the angry motorist hurled at Kirsten with the intention of hurting her that day; ended up being the same can that God fed her from later!

Until this night, I hadn’t known the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcases’ name.  After Jim shared her name with me, it only seemed to deepen the pain I felt for her all these years. I should’ve been comforted by the fact that I could now pray for her by name.  However, I was haunted by it now.  I lay awake thinking of Kirsten’s dear-in-the-headlight expression…her gaunt face and crippled hands. “What am I to do with this, Lord?” I prayed. 

Within seconds of my asking the question, I heard God Whispering into my heart, “Look deeper, my child.  S-e-e her.”

Puzzling over His words to me, I rehearsed the scene in my mind over and over again. The big, blue, suitcase.  The shell of a human being she’d become over time. I saw a worn-out woman; a mother, who remained nameless to a world that despised her for most of her life. For who she was, for everything she was not; even labeled by a stranger as being a human-eyesore to society.  For her own reasons, Kirsten chose homelessness over having the home that was already hers for the asking.  Instead, fear of what might happen or have to change in her life if she chose home, drove her towards living the vagabond life of the Lady-with-the-big-blue suitcase; and all the tears, trials, and tales of woe that followed her for years on end.

  “It seems to me, Lord, that Kirsten is desperately searching for wholeness in her life…everywhere she turns there are so many broken pieces.”

Then God gently reminded me, “Wholeness cannot be found in a broken world…not without Me.”

Fear drove Kirsten to choose, and even justify, the broken and destitute pathways she walked on for most of her life.  Fear and homelessness dragged her un-mercilessly, down roads that Love and choosing a home and family never would’ve. In her eyes, homelessness was her way of ‘having her own way’…but it was really yielding to the voice of fear telling her that ‘she had no other way.’   

Even now, when I see Kirsten’s hunched figure still dragging the big, blue suitcase up onto another curb; I continue to pray for her. For I’m reminded that with every step Kirsten takes in her arduous, life’s journey; she is still only one phone call away from being rescued from her homelessness. But… she won’t make that call.

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The Lord, our God, urges us to call upon His Name in all seasons: and He will rescue us. (see Psalm 118)

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To this day, I am still haunted by Kirsten’s gaunt expression and the dear-in-the-headlights-stare; but I am also frequently reminded of God’s words to my heart that night, as well.

“Wholeness cannot be found in a broken world…not without Me.”

His words sank deep into my spirit that night, unlocking the truth of why Kirsten’s story touched me so, down through the years.  I realized in that moment, that Kirsten’s dear-in-the-headlights stare haunted me because the Lady-with-the-big-blue-suitcase’s story has, all along, been God’s picture for my heart in this physical world; of what can happen to any one of us in the spiritual realm.  It very clearly reflects what happens to us spiritually, when we choose to go our own way in life…instead of trusting God for the life He’s planned for us, the Rescue Story He longs for us to become a part of, and the eternal Home He promises awaits us;  all for calling out to our Heavenly Father. Your life was meant to be a living declaration of God’s Goodness; a daily reflection of His Glory to the world around you.   I urge you to choose to cease your wanderings, and make the call! Only then will you discover what so many already have…that there really is, no place like Home.

“Call to Me and I will answer you.  I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own.”

—Jeremiah 33: 3  MSG—

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PRAYER: Dearest Father in heaven…forgive us! Our world can be such a hostile place for those so near and dear to Your Heart; both the homeless in the physical streets, and the homeless, who are wandering in life as spiritual nomads. Help dear Kirsten to find the courage to call out to You. Keep those without a home spiritually, from pressing on in ignorance of the wholeness You give us for the asking… in exchange for all our broken pieces. We call to You, God. We cry out to You to help us. The psalmist, King David reminds us, “From Your Palace, You hear our cry; and our cry brings us right into Your Presence—a private audience!” (Psalm 18). Our desire to live well can never be fulfilled without You. Restore to us our peace of mind, heart, and soul…continue to guide us in our journey towards Home. In Jesus’ Name…Amen

My Big “G” God

by Debbie Allen

There is a flame that burns within the hearts of all God’s children which needs to be continually fanned; or it will die out and even the world around us will suffer its loss. This flame is a measure of our love for God Himself. It is meant to be tended, nurtured and at times, even fanned by the very Hand of God.  The flame is an indicator of our level of devotion to His Word, His Truths, and His Presence down inside of us. It reflects the depth of our passion toward His Purposes. The fan that keeps this flame burning brightly is, in part, all the intentional efforts we make towards fueling that flame… or not.  Reading our Bibles daily…or not.   Storing up His Truths in our hearts…or not. Choosing to walk in humble obedience to the tune of God’s Voice…or not. All of these choices fan the flame brighter which in turn, sheds greater light on our life-paths; providing us with the perspective and passion needed to see and share God and the Truth of Who He really is. The flame is a testimony of the reality of God; both in our lives and in the world around us. In the words of Pastor Tony Evans, “God longs to be more than just Theology on a shelf.  He wants to be real to you right now.”   (CSB Tony Evans Study Bible, pg. 1465, copyright 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers).   You see, God is only as real to you as you choose to let Him be.  But if your flame is burning too dimly, you just may miss His Presence standing right in front of you. 

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“God longs to be more than just Theology on a shelf. He wants to be real to you right now.” —Tony Evans—

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A few years ago, working at a local Middle School, I experienced my own dimly lit flame in a very unique way.  The day started off a little rough.  My morning prayer-time was cut short due to my alarm not going off; so, I rushed to get to work on time.  I headed straight for the Girl’s Locker Room where I began each of my work days, supervising teen girls.  As I stood in my usual spot, waiting for the final bell to ring; my ears were busy trying to sift through fifteen teenage girls’ conversations; all going on at the same time.  Most of them I labeled girl drama.  However, one conversation in particular captured my attention. One of the girls asked another to “…Just name off what you like the very most about your life!”   Without even the slightest hesitation, the other girl answered, Oh, I like Jesus and Dr. Pepper!”  If I had any doubts about what I’d heard her say, the girl who posed the question, repeated it again out loud. I think even she was surprised by her friend’s response.  It was comical; and I couldn’t keep from smiling at the very thought of hearing Jesus in the same sentence as Dr. Pepper.

 Until that moment, I’d never even considered the beautiful reality that Jesus was standing in front of me every morning I entered that locker room; in the form of that young girl!  That moment for me was not just Jesus revealing His Presence to me in a most spontaneous and unexpected way. It was the very Hand of my Heavenly Father throwing a much-needed log on the dimly-lit flame inside of me; fanning my flame to bring new warmth to my dull heart; and lighting my path… even in the dark and forgotten corners of a Middle School Locker Room.

I experienced the warmth of that moment throughout that day.  Walking back to the school Office, where I spent my time between trips to the Locker Room; I found myself asking God what I could do to bring that kind of warmth to His Own Heart?  Little did I know it, but God was about to give me an opportunity to do just that.

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“God, is the God Who cares about every detail of your life; including how brightly the flame down inside of you is burning.”

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Later that day, I was tackling an endless stack of typing that I did regularly for one of the Teachers. Though the work seemed too repetitive for me to find it interesting; I discovered a typo on her original copy that made me glad I was the one doing the typing for this v-e-r-y New-Age thinking Literacy teacher.  The sentence on the test I was typing read like this: “Some people believe that there is only one true god, but the Greeks and Romans believed in many gods.” 

Without a moment of hesitation, I smiled to myself as I came to the part of the sentence that said, “…there is only one true god.”  Now I knew why I’d been chosen to do this monotonous typing!  God put me in charge of correcting the biggest typo ever in that sentence.  His Name was spelled wrong!  So…I promptly corrected it typing,

“Some people believe that there is only One True God, but the Greeks and
Romans believed in many gods.”                                          

Though I could’ve breezed over that typo and never looked back…I knew in my heart that God is a God who cares about every detail concerning my life and how bright the flame within me burns. My desire was to change how every student who read those words on that test for years to come, would see God.  With a few strokes on a keyboard, I took what the world perceived as a small “g” god, and revealed Him for Who He really is.  The One True Big “G” GOD! This was my opportunity to bring a measure of warmth to the Heart of God; as He had to my heart, earlier. Making this simple change reminded me of exactly why I climbed out of bed today…and every day.  It was and always is… for His Name’s Sake!

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PRAYER: Dearest Heavenly Father, forgive us, Your children, for the flame which burns so dimly inside of us at times. The flame which too often fails to stir the senses of the world around us to Your v-e-r-y Real Presence in our lives. You have chosen us out of this world to burn brightly for Your Glory. For Your Name’s Sake, fan the flames within us. Make us into vessels of honor, instruments “…for noble purposes, made holy and useful to our Master and prepared to do any good work.” (2 Timothy 2:21) Fill us with renewed perspective and faith enough to side step the spiritual blindness in this world that keeps people from seeing You for Who You really are. Our Big “G” God. The only One True God. “You, LORD, keep our flames burning; You turn our darkness into light.” (Ps. 18:28) Continue to do so for Your Name’s Sake. In Jesus name…Amen

 

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Lifting Up My Hands

by Debbie Allen

As a little girl, I was fascinated by a sculpture of a pair of praying hands, sitting on a knick-knack shelf above the couch I slept on each time I spent the night at my Grandma’s house. Something about the sight of  those hands brought comfort to me. Whether my sleepy eyes were tracing their outline in the blue of a moonlight hour, or recapturing their every detail in the brilliance of morning sunlight;  these folded hands seemed to speak a silent story to my little-girl heart.   Though, as a small child I was only allowed to touch them with a feather-duster now and then; I now hold them in my own hands each time I sit down to write.  These Praying Hands continue to touch my adult heart to this day.  They sit on my writing desk now, and with every glance over at them; I am comforted by that same silent story I sensed being whispered into my heart as a child. Only now, those whispers speak louder to me. I believe those whispers to be the unending echoes of an unfathomable love story; a story meant for every heart to remember… forever. Let me show you what I mean.   

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“The Praying Hands”—from it emanates the unending echoes of an unfathomable, Love Story; a Story meant for every heart to remember…forever.”

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Nearly six centuries ago,  in a little town near Nuremberg, Germany;  two brothers, Albrecht and Albert Durer, lay in a  bed, crowded with other siblings; dreaming of their futures. Coming from a family of eighteen, their chances of getting a college education were slim to nothing. Their father already worked eighteen hours a day just to put enough scraps of bread on the table to feed them all.  Nevertheless, having an overwhelming desire to attend the prestigious, Academy School, in Nuremberg, to further develop their artistic talents; Albrecht and Albert devised a plan to solve their own dilemma.  They made a pact.  They would toss a coin.  The loser of the coin toss would go down and work in the nearby mines; and with his wages, support the other brother while he attended the Academy.  Then, after four years at the Academy were completed, the brother who won the coin toss would support the other brother in like manner. After Church one Sunday, those two brothers did toss a coin.  Albrecht won the coin toss and headed off to Nuremberg; and Albert headed down into the treacherous coal mines in support of his brother; as promised. 

Over the next four years, Albrecht was almost an instant success in his artistic endeavors. His etchings, oil works and paintings far exceeded most of his professor’s. The day he graduated from the Academy, he went back home to attend a dinner in his honor.  After the meal, he stood at the head of the table and raised his glass, proposing a toast in honor of his brother, Albert; for the years of sacrifice in the mines that had allowed Albrecht to fulfill his dreams. 

“ And now,” Albrecht exclaimed joyfully, “ It is your turn, Albert.  You can go to Nuremberg Academy and  I will take care of you!” *

But, much to the family’s surprise, Albert rose with tears in his eyes, shaking his head.

Raising his battered hands up close to his face, he spoke.

 “No, brother, I cannot go to Nuremberg.  It’s too late for me.  Look what four years of working in the mines have done to my hands.  Every finger smashed at least once and arthritis so bad I can’t even lift my glass to join in this toast; much less make delicate brush strokes on canvas or parchment.” *

As time passed, in honor of his brother and all he sacrificed for him; Albrecht drew Albert’s battered hands in great detail; palms together and gnarled fingers stretched heavenward.  He named his beautiful drawing simply, “Hands.”  But as time went on and the world fell in love with this great work of art, they renamed Albrecht’s masterpiece, “The Praying Hands.” Now, over 450 years later, Albrecht Durer’s most widely-known work of art remains his tribute of love to his brother, Albert… “The Praying Hands.”

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“Albrecht Durer’s sculpture of the Praying Hands is his reminder to the world that, “…no one—no one—ever makes it alone.” *

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It has been said that Albrecht Durer’s sculpture of the Praying Hands is his reminder to the world that, “…no one—no one—ever makes it alone.” *  But because of my fascination with this sculpture since childhood: I believe there is something much deeper involved here.  Every glance over at those ‘Praying Hands’ continues to unravel for me; the silent whispers still emanating from it. They are echos of the one-of-a-kind love and sacrifice made on another’s behalf. They speak to my heart of the hands that so willingly gave up his own life so that another might find a new life.  Hands willing to go the distance without ever counting the cost.  Hands broken and battered for the sake of a brother, though it cost him his own life.  But wait a minute.  We’re not just talking about Albert Durer’s story anymore…we’re talking about a reflection of the Life of Jesus.  The Hands that Loved and Sacrificed His own Life…so that another (you and I), could have a new life.  The Hands that Gave Their All, so that humanity might have it all.  And like Albrecht Durer’s sculpture of The Praying Hands, Jesus’ Hands are ever-reaching out into the world with a message etched deeply in the scars on the Palms of His Hands:

“My child…take hold of My Hand, for ‘no one—no one—ever makes it alone.“‘

(* The Story behind “The Praying Hands” AfterHoursInspirationalStories)

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PRAYER: Dearest Heavenly Father, “The Praying Hands” sculpture is such a beautiful earthly reflection of what has been done for us by Your own Heavenly Hands.   I still seek the solace of those Praying Hands on my desk.   When I was a child spending the night on my Grandma’s couch; even then, I believe You were drawing my eye to those Praying Hands…teaching my spirit where to look to find comfort; whether in darkness or in the daylight. Though I am not a child anymore…I am still a child of Yours.  I still remember what You’ve taught me.  For this reason, I’m looking for the outline of Your Hands, even in this darkness that seems to be descending on us as a people and a Nation. An army of evil seems to be marching against us!  In the words of King Jehoshaphat of old…I cry out “For we are powerless before this vast number that comes to fight against us. We do not know what to do, but we look to You.” (2Chron.20:12 CSB). Give us the vision we need to see Your Hand, even as the darkness thickens.  Grant us wisdom and discernment to act and react in a manner worthy of the life you sacrificed on our behalf.  Your Truths ever before us…keep our minds alert and help our hearts to remain steadfast in our pursuit of righteousness in this dark time.  Protect us Father, for even with our hands in Yours, the wars all around us may rage on…but they will not defeat us! May we persist in praying until we prevail in prayer (Ephesians 6:18 CSB).  Enable us to keep a firm grip on your Heavenly Hands, remembering that “no one—NO ONE—ever makes it alone.”    IN JESUS NAME, AMEN

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by Debbie Allen

Once upon a time…is usually the perfect beginning for a fable or a fairytale written for children.  However, once upon a time…currently speaks of a one-of-a-kind tale in our present history we’d rather not have to tell to anybody’s children. The COVID19 virus.   Its details have invaded our thoughts and our headlines, filled our hospital beds and big-screen TV’s, and impacted nations, cities, and lives around the globe for many months. Our hillsides aren’t enchanted anymore…they’re infected. In an effort to avoid an invisible enemy, the Kings and Queens in this story sit on disinfected thrones inside quarantined castles. Its Princes and Princesses are restricted from dancing inside each other’s arms at the Royal Ball, which has been cancelled, in the name of social distancing.  The Royal Couple now stands no closer than six feet apart, having exchanged true love’s kiss for a mask.   This story’s final message is anything but a fairytale. And if the truth be known, it’s not going to end with the heartfelt words, “And they lived happily ever after!” At least not while we’re living on earth.

If ever there was a time in history when we longed for fairytale living…it is now. This surreal story we are living in is pummeled with daily unknowns, mounting impossibilities, and endless, unshakeable foundations, in our past that have been shaken to literal pieces.  With financial and health institutions floundering and businesses large and small, struggling to eke out new ways of finding their way back to Prosperity Road; life is anything but predictable. Stability appears to be a thing of the past.  This is not just true of our own nation but, all around the world. Each of our lives has been deeply affected…and countless lives have been infected by this dreaded invisible enemy, COVID19. I find it interesting that this disease settles in the lungs; stealing away our very breath from us…the breath that was meant from the very beginning to bring praise and glory to our Creator in life. Maybe this virus comes to us with its own message?

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“Maybe…just maybe this COVID19 Virus comes to us with its own message?”

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It’s extremely humbling to wake up one day and find ourselves face to face with the truth of our own human frailty.  Or at least, it should be.  Though President Trump and many world leaders have proclaimed formal ‘days of prayer’ to seek God’s help and wisdom during this critical time in world history; there are still a brazen few, in the leadership world, who refuse to acknowledge their need for either; even in the heart of this crisis.  As he watched the Corona Virus curve begin to flatten in his own state; the Governor of New York, Andrew Cuomo, is quoted during a press conference to have proclaimed:

“The number is down because we brought the number down.  God did not do that. Faith did not do that.  Destiny did not do that.  A lot of pain and suffering did that…That’s how it works.  It’s math….”  (https://www.lifesitenews.com/blogs/new-york-gov-cuomo-we-flattened-coronavirus-curve-god-did-not-do-that)

Governor Cuomo’s words sent chills down my spine.  Denying God’s active Presence in the pandemic ?  Just a few hundred feet away from where he spoke, could Cuomo not see Jesus was working fervently through the hands of first-responders, loving and caring for those quarantined lives hidden away in a field hospital, now standing in Central Park? Did he not notice Jesus helping prisoners find the strength needed to throw one more shovelful of dirt down onto wooden coffins filled with the unknown, dead; being buried in a mass grave site on Hart Island? Was it Cuomo’s heart breaking for all the tears that flowed down onto the hundreds of masked faces who lost loved ones to this virus? No, again.  It was Jesus’ Heart. The Heart from which flows only Good.  Cuomo saw his own pain and suffering, and simple math, as the reason for the Corona Virus curve flattening.  I saw Jesus, His Pain and Suffering, and the high cost of loving others greater than yourself.  I saw the Presence of God in the midst of all this chaos. And what about answered prayer?  Without a doubt in my mind, I believe God did this!  Faith did this! God’s Greater Purposes allowed this!

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“Though the Corona Virus Pandemic makes its mark in history as the first of its kind; Governor Cuomo’s words and actions are simply another case of history repeating itself. Same sin, different day.”

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Though the Corona Virus Pandemic makes its mark in history as the first of its kind; Governor Cuomo’s words and actions are simply another case of history repeating itself. Same sin, different day. You see God warns us to ‘trust in Him’ and ‘not to lean on our own understanding’ (Proverbs 15:6a) because ‘there is a way that seems right to man, but its end is the way to death.’ (Proverbs 14:12).  In the Garden of Eden, Eve ‘leaned on her own understanding’ the day she took a bite out of the apple that God told Adam not to eat; and humanity and all of creation is still suffering for it.   Andrew Cuomo, just as good as took a bite out of The Big Apple, the day he uttered words that reduced the Glory God deserved down to human efforts and simple math; then denied God’s Sovereign Hand in flattening the Corona Virus curve.

Whether we are living in the ancient story of Eve’s little apple, or the modern-day tale of Andrew’s Big Apple; the message is still the same.  We humans are constantly stepping across the boundaries that God draws for us in life, for our own protection. For our own good.  Whether it be in word or deed, if we continue to lean upon our own understanding and self-sufficiency, ousting God from His rightful place in our hearts and in this world…the consequences are going to be disastrous for all of us.  Perhaps they already are!

As I’m sure your hearts have perceived by now, the Corona Virus story has forced all of us to become the characters living inside a story we never asked to become a part of. There is no handsome Prince knocking on your door, holding a glass slipper in his hands; hoping it fits your foot so he may whisk you away to the royal life you’ve always dreamed of. However, the Prince Who is knocking on your door, is the Prince of Peace. Jesus. He holds in His Hands the story of your life.  Not a fable, not a fairytale.  But, a Journey with Him to the Land of Right-Living, and a life you never could’ve dreamed for yourself. Reach out and take this Prince’s Hand. After all… He gave His life for you so your story would have this perfect ending:

” …and they live Happily in the Ever-After!”

 During this unsure time in our world, continue to persevere.  The Prince of Peace stands before you, behind you, beside you and within you as a constant reminder to your heart during these tumultuous times; to set your mind on Him.  He will keep you completely whole and steady on your feet; as you continue fighting through the ever-changing circumstances…unwavering in your faith.’ (Isaiah 26:3).   Above all, continue to ‘trust in Him with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; but, in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.’ (Proverbs 3:5-6). 

Like the modern-day tale of ‘Andrew and “The Big Apple”, there will always be those people in this world who live for their own name and renown. But I assure you, their stories will not end well. The prophet, Isaiah put it this way:

“The path of right-living people is level.  The Leveler [God] evens the road for the right-living.  If the wicked are shown Grace, they don’t seem to get it.  In the land of right-living, they persist in wrong living, blind to the Splendor and [Presence] of God.” (Isaiah 26:7, 10)

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HEART TRAPPINGS:

PRAYER: Dearest Father in Heaven,,,It seems our whole world is in turmoil these days. The economy, the church, our community; What once seemed unshakeable has proven shaky and unstable, in ways we never expected. Desperation and uncertainty span the globe, Lord. I cry out to You in the words of King David, as he prayed for his own people during a dark period in their history. “Lord…You have shaken the land and torn it open; mend it’s fractures, for it is quaking.” (Psalm 60:2). Open our eyes to see both Your Glory and Your Presence among us. Continue to fill our lungs with your breath; and may we not fail to utter Your praises daily, especially in the midst of difficult times. For only in You, Lord, will we find both rest and refuge for our souls. With You as our Stronghold…we will not be shaken! In Jesus Name, Amen

by Debbie Allen

“It was the best of days; it was the worst of days.” One summer day, back in the early 1900’s…no one could tell the two little girls left sitting at the kitchen table on their family’s Missourian farm, any different! Breakfast was over but, Hazel, 9, and Nina, 6, lingered behind the rest of their siblings; who’d marched off routinely to knock out their chore lists so they could play. Giggling non-stop, the girls recounted chasing the chickens around the coup that morning before gathering-up enough eggs in a basket to feed the twelve of them.

“Mama wasn’t pleased,” confessed Hazel, looking down in an effort to hide her uncontainable half-grin.

Little Nina lowered her gaze too, adding, ” Daddy was mad when I dropped the milk pitcher he just filled for me. He told me not to skip…but, I love skipping.”

A moment of silence reigned between them in an attempt to mourn their most recent poor choices. However, as soon as their gazes locked, this inseparable, duo-of-girlish-whims, wriggled and giggled their way back to the kitchen sink where Mama’s stern expression and towers of dirty, breakfast dishes awaited them.

“I’m the oldest so I’ll wash and you can dry!” Hazel chimed in, tossing the dish towel towards Nina.

Before the towel landed on Nina’s face, Mama caught it in mid-air, glaring at both of them.  Her patience now gone, Mama grabbed a pencil and the girl’s chore lists. With every new giggle or accidental, playful gesture between the girls, Mama added a new chore to their lists.

Eyebrows scrunched by now, and dresses dishwater-soaked, Nina and Hazel protested, “But Mama…that’s not fair!”

 “I’m too little for this big chore list!”

Without another word, Mama handed each of them a revised chore list.  Then she laid her apron aside and walked out the back door; knowing she’d struck the Achilles heels of these two little trouble-makers.  Her troublemakers… the two little girls whose hearts always beat in unison when it came to knowing how to turn serious work into play.

Before it was all over, Mama wore her own half-smile; for not only had she gained the upper hand…but a whole day off!

“It was the best of days…it was the worst of days!”

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“It was the best of days…it was the worst of days!”

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The two little farm girls pictured in the story above grew up to become my Dad’s Aunts from Missouri. Though their childhood antics followed them on into adulthood, both Aunt Hazel and Aunt Nina grew up to become the much-loved, faith-filled women, sisters, wives, mothers, and aunts that I, too, had the privilege of knowing and loving in my younger years. 

Hazel was tall and lean, anything but shy; creative and outspoken in all she said and did.   Nina was petite in both stature and size, quiet-natured, and soft-spoken to all. They were like vinegar and honey.   Each of them offered their own unique flavors to this world; but when you combined the two of them together; they became their own sweet remedy for turning anything serious into play. 

In their later years, long after their children were grown, husbands passed away, and great-grandchildren were too numerous to count; they sat across from each other visiting in the same kitchen at the farm house where they grew up. Aunt Nina was working on a sewing project and ran out of the color of thread she needed to finish it.  Determined to get it done that day, she turned to Aunt Hazel.

“Sis…is there any way we could drive into town to buy more thread?”

Almost without hesitation, Aunt Hazel responded.

“Yes…I imagine anything is possible; but we both know it’s going to take a little doing to get us there!”

After this conversation, both of them headed for Aunt Hazel’s old blue Ford, Betty; parked in front of the farmhouse.  It’d been sitting there since Uncle Ross passed away a year earlier.  Aunt Nina climbed into the passenger seat.  Aunt Hazel positioned herself behind the steering wheel.  Feeling along the steering column for the ignition, she turned the key and held her breath. 

“Come on Betty, give us one more time!” Aunt Hazel pleaded, before the engine sputtered and coughed, and finally cranked over.

Then…just as she’d done so many times when they were little girls, Aunt Hazel took charge; issuing Aunt Nina some final instructions for their roles in this grand adventure.

“Now remember, you do the talking and I’ll do the driving. Just keep me centered in the road and we’ll surely get there!”

Putting the car in gear, they coasted down to the single-lane, country road at the bottom of the driveway.  Aunt Nina hollered “LEFT…NOW RIGHT…LEFT AGAIN!” and Betty and the girls headed for the craft store; more than ten winding, miles of dirt-road away!  This is probably the only time in her life Aunt Nina ever hollered at anybody. 

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“It may be the best of drives…it may be the worst of drives, but…none of us can make any of those drives on our own.”

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For this 80-some-year-old, duo-of-girlish-whims, this day had the potential of becoming the best of days…or the worst of days.   You see, at the time, Aunt Hazel was totally blind…and her guidance system, Aunt Nina, had never driven a day in her life!  Miraculously, Betty and the girls made it to the craft store that day, bought the thread needed, and returned home unscathed; but not without a few near-ditch experiences!

 This story is tucked-away deep inside the pages of my family history.   It was only by accident that my Dad happened to share it with me. The thought of it still captures my heart! It’s so much more than just a story of childhood antics following these two dear, ladies into old age. It’s a tale of two sisters who, over the course of a lifetime; found a sweet, abiding contentment in each other’s presence.  I see one risking all… for the sake of another’s needs.  I see a heart willing to embark on a journey with only the sounds of another’s voice to guide them down an unseen stretch of road. I see unwavering obedience and blind trust in that same voice to keep them centered, in spite of near-ditch experiences all along the way.

If you look a little deeper, you also see the beauty of Heaven woven in and out of this tale. It’s a reflection of Jesus’ Heart.  His Desire…He longs for us to find contentment in His Sweet, Abiding Presence. His Love… always intentional and sacrificial, with our highest good in mind.  Hope…He gave us His all, His Life; so that we could have one.

Whether we like to admit it or not, all of us are blind to what the road stretched out in front of us looks like. If we choose to make the drive on our own, life will be one white-knuckle, near-ditch, experience after another; with no guarantee of ever reaching home. Consider the wisdom of two little farm girls from Missouri. Let’s invite Someone to sit next to us on the journey. Then choose to tune the ears of our hearts to the Sounds of His Voice for Guidance. His Love and Faithfulness demand and deserve our blind trust. Jesus is the only one who is able to keep us centered in our own life’s journey. “It might be the best of drives…it might be the worst of drives but…none of us can make any of those drives on our own.”

PRAYER: Dearest Father in Heaven…Thankyou for loving us through every journey we embark on. Forgive us for being so short-sighted in so many ways. Give us the courage to admit how blind we are when it comes to finding our own way around in this life. Help us to faithfully tune the ears of our hearts to the sounds of Your Voice. May we not miss hearing Your instructions for the drive we are making in this life. Fix our eyes and our ears upon You. Thankyou for being the God Who is always with us and Who never fails to Rescue us. We love You. In Jesus Name…Amen

 

“The Lord is my strength; He will walk me through places of trouble and suffering.” (Habbakuk 3:19)

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As I sipped on my morning cup of coffee this past weekend; my husband sifted through the headlines of our local newspaper looking for any story that qualified as good news.  To his dismay, the coronavirus dominated nearly every story and headline. On the verge of becoming a world pandemic, this contagion has now captured worldwide attention.  The threat this invisible enemy poses to each one of us should be taken seriously; not only internationally, locally, and personally but… spiritually as well. God knows what is happening around the world right now; and He also knows what’s going on inside your heart.    The Bible tells us,  “God is always on the alert, constantly looking for people whose hearts are totally committed to Him” (2 Chronicles:16:9).

 I can’t help but think that God may even be allowing this coronavirus to serve as His Divine Invitation to all peoples and all nations to consider the lives we are living before Him …and reconsider Whose Glory our lives are meant to reflect?

Having been ousted from our comfort-zones, we can no more just turn our heads and walk away.  Beyond the most obvious fact that our everyday lives have been turned upside down overnight; there are lots of little battles going on around us that tell on our hearts in a BIG way.

When Jim and I went to the grocery store a few days ago, my heart sank as I surveyed the unexpected emptiness on the shelves throughout the store. My husband confessed that in 50yrs of working for King Soopers, he’d never seen the store look like this!  Then he shared how two customers, the day before, literally came to blows in the middle of the paper goods aisle over the last two packages of toilet paper in the store!  Scenes like this just don’t happen in America!  We live in the Land-of-Plenty…right?

 As I stood there processing those empty shelves, my heart began to perceive what my eyes still struggled to believe. That unexpected emptiness on the shelves in front of me spoke to my heart of the lean-ness of soul that plagues the vast majority of people today. Hundreds of years ago, we stood shoulder to shoulder battling for our nation’s freedom against all odds.  Now, we stand opposite each other defiantly, engaged in a TP Tug-O-War in the paper-goods aisle at the grocery store! These two snippets in our history reflect the stark difference between responding to our circumstances in faith with the good of others in mind; and just reacting in fear out of self-preservation only.

The coronavirus threat awakened something inside of me that most of us would rather deny than address. As a nation, I believe we are holding onto the loose thread of our rich and Godly Heritage with one hand…while trying to cover-up our impoverished souls with the other. Empty grocery shelves tell us a story of our own spiritual poverty in a way that well-stocked shelves never could.  None of us will ever receive the Purple Heart for unsurpassed bravery in a TP Tug-O-War. The prize for that is our own emptiness…leanness-of-soul.  Spiritual Poverty dulls our faith and keeps us blinded to the Goodness of God in our lives; both in prosperous times and in the middle of a world pandemic.

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“Empty grocery shelves tell us a story of our own spiritual poverty in a way that well-stocked shelves never could.”

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 Perhaps we’ve   placed our security and well-being in the sounds of the coins jingling down inside of our pockets so long; we’ve lost sight of the life-giving words engraved on each of those coins…“In GOD we trust.”

King David, of old, understood the beauty of trusting in God as he proclaimed in Psalm 119:14, 

“I will rejoice in the content of Your Word as if I were rejoicing over Great Wealth.”

David is a beautiful example of what it looks like to have a prosperous soul.  He learned, through a lifetime of battling his own trauma and difficulties; the value of choosing the Wealth of God’s Word over the wealth of this world.

Though our world seems a fragile place right now, from our crumbling financial institutions down to our own dwindling pockets; our hearts must not follow suit. I pray it may never be said of us what was written of the ancient Israelites, who professed to follow God time and time again; but who  followed Him only with their words, not their hearts. (Psalm 78:36)  

“Like a crooked arrow, they missed the target of God’s will.” (Psalm 58:57b LAB)

Only God knows for sure where this world pandemic will lead. Maybe the coronavirus has become His training ground for what needs to happen next in our world, in our Nation and in our hearts; repentance.

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 Perhaps we’ve   placed our security and well-being in the sounds of the coins jingling down inside of our pockets so long; we’ve lost sight of the life-giving words engraved on each of those coins…“In GOD we trust.”

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I have seen the Goodness of God in our Nation, and I have walked in His Goodness since I was a child. It’s real and it still surrounds us. God is forever Faithful to His children. The pandemic doesn’t change that. It just gives us another reason to choose to sidestep the fear that comes with it; and see it instead, as a backdrop for faith. Let’s walk against the tide in these challenging times. Choose to walk inside the Goodness of a faithful God. Steer clear from thoughts of becoming the next victor in the latest TP Tug-O-War in the grocery aisles. Instead, remain a beacon of trust and hope; sacrificially giving what you call yours, to those who need it worse.  After all, that simple act might just turn out to be the ‘Message of Love’ someone else needs to cling to during this world pandemic.

“We cannot shrink back in fear and

Go forward in faith at

The same time”

—Christine Caine-Unexpected—

PRAYER: Dearest Lord, thankyou for always being so good. I praise you even in these hard times, for Your Loving-kindness and for all the wonderful deeds You have shown us in our past. Still our fears and calm our anxious hearts…forgive us for the leanness in our souls. We have even let our own well-stocked grocery shelves deceive us into thinking that we are sufficient in and of ourselves. This coronavirus has rearranged our perspectives and brought us to our knees; where we have the opportunity to acknowledge that the prosperity of our Nation past and present is only because of all the blessings that come from Your Hand. Hear our prayers… Forgive our sins…Heal our Land as we stand steadfast in the gap for our World, our Nation, and ourselves. In Jesus Name…Amen

 

    

 

  

   “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with everlasting kindness.”

(Jeremiah 31:3  )

Itty-Bitty Love Story!

 by Debbie Allen

One morning, while letting my fingers walk the boundaries of my I-pad, I stumbled across the snapshot above.  Though I realize a morning walk through the Pinterest Forest  doesn’t qualify as  r-e-a-l exercise; my heart still benefited  from the effort.  You see, on that walk I discovered my new, favorite exercise. The Grandma Exercise. Kiss and squeeze…Kiss and squeeze! There isn’t a Grandma (or Grandpa) in this world who would deny  the heart-benefits of doing several reps of this exercise.  Engaging in this unique form of cardio-workout far outweighs and outlasts the act of doing the Grandma Exercise itself.  Experts claim this workout, “Doesn’t do a thing for your weight, but oh what it does for your heart!”

To mine the deep wisdom of this almost contradictory statement, you must first  see it through the lens of Grandma’s glasses.  Doesn’t do a thing for your weight…”  focuses on the fact that, Grandma has nothing to lose and everything to gain  by engaging in this exercise frequently.

“Oh what it does for your heart!”  only magnifies what I see as a perfect caption for labeling the itty-bitty love story taking place inside a Grandma’s heart every time a grandchild’s arms wrap around her neck. Kiss and Squeeze and Kiss and Squeeze!

There’s a melting process that goes on inside my heart during these reps that’s indescribable. Though the experts who frequent the gyms of the Buff and Beautiful  deny the heart-benefits of such a workout; those of us who pound pavement with  fellow-members of Silver Sneakers Clubs across America beg-to-differ.  This Grandma Exercise is its own reward!

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“Unlimited reps of this age-old exercise promise restored life and
rejuvenated hearts for Grandmas of any age!”
—Grammie Debbie—

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Bu, the story doesn’t end here.  We’ve seen the physical heart-benefits surrounding this promise by peering through the lens of Grandma’s glasses. Now, slip on a pair of Spiritual Specs and focus on the deeper spiritual exercise I believe is in play here.

Those precious Kiss and Squeeze sessions in my life, those itty-bitty love stories that so enrapture my heart; double  as earthly reflections of Heaven’s Greatest Love Story.  I call it my Love and Lean exercise. It’s an exercise for the soul reflecting how our Heavenly Father loves to love His own children…you and I.

When I see my Grandbabies running toward me, full-force and open-armed, my heart pounds wildly; for I am reminded of God’s Love. Love that pursues me daily, Open-Armed and Full-of-Grace…even when I don’t deserve it.  Love and Lean…

When my Grandchild leans, nose pressed flat, against the front window anticipating my return from the store;  I can’t make my  Grammie-legs run fast enough toward the little heart whose voice I hear calling out my name!

God’s like that too, you know.  He stands watching and waiting every day in every corner of my life. He anticipates my presence any moment, eagerly calling out my name at the sight of me;  hoping for a love that reciprocates and runs for the sounds of His Voice!  Love and Lean…

When something or someone breaks my Grandchild’s heart, I love when they crawl up into my lap above all the other laps in the room; to whisper a broken “I love you” in my ear while their sobs subside.

God, too, desires our Love for Him to push us toward the safety of His Lap. That safe place He offers us where He may lavish us with His unconditional Love.  An Ever-Present refuge where tears may dry and heartbreaks mend.  Love and Lean…

When my Grandchildren were toddlers, they always found reasons to sleep with Grammie and Grandpa when they spent the night (We loved it!). When Grandpa said “Lights out!” they snuggled as close as they could get to us. I marveled at how quickly perfect peace washed over their expressions as they fell asleep. Sometimes in the middle of the night, they’d wake up afraid; but as soon as they saw who they were with; they’d re-snuggle and go right back to sleep.

God loves being close to His children too. The closer we move to His Heart the safer we remain.  When we wake up and find ourselves  surrounded by darkness, all we have to do is glance over and focus on Who is next to us. Lean into Him, and find rest and comfort in His Wonderful Presence. Love and Lean…

Someone once said, “The most precious jewels you’ll ever have around your neck are the arms of your Grandchildren.” I couldn’t agree more. For the span of time they choose to dangle there, rest assured, there’s a little bit of Heaven embracing your heart.   So… Kiss and Squeeze and Love and Lean  to your heart and soul’s content! Unlimited reps of these age-old exercises promise restored life and rejuvenated hearts for Grandmas (and Grandpas) of all ages!

HEART TRAPPINGS:

Living in our  self-centered world of v-e-r-y conditional thinking, its easy to lose sight of what un-conditional love even looks like.  Then…my Grandchildren came along!  They are my perfect picture of boundless love. Love that runs to you at the mere sound of your voice. Love you can trust even in the dark. Love that pursues you no-matter-what. A Love worth clinging to …a love I wouldn’t trade for anything else in this world! My Grandchildren are a daily reminder to my heart,  of the kind of Love God desires from each of His own children…you and I.

Have you ever stood face-to-face with un-conditional love?

If so, what about that moment captured your heart?

How was your life changed because of it?

Prayer:  Dearest Lord…I thank You for my Grandchildren…precious reflections of Your un-conditional Love in my life.  Thankyou for allowing such love to continually grace me, even in my later years.  Keep my arms strong enough to wrap tightly around those you’ve given me to love…and my heart rejuvenated with faith enough to know I can continually look-up and Love and Lean on You  without reserve or hesitation.  In Jesus Name…Amen

“And when we obey Him, every path He guides us on is fragrant with His Lovingkindness and His Truth.” (Psalm 25:10 LAB)

This new year offered me an after-Christmas experience I’m not going to forget anytime soon. The lesson that came from this experience has permeated the dullness of my own heart every day since; so much so that my desires and aspirations for 2020 are sculpted around it!

As I sat down to do some writing after spending several hours making sure all of my Christmas decorations were stowed away; I spied one more forgotten item.  A miniature, ceramic, crockpot filled with two-week-old potpourri; still sitting behind a picture frame on my desk.  I grimaced at the sight of it. Bending to sniff its contents, I was surprised at the lack of fragrance coming from it.  Two weeks earlier, the same contents filled my library with the aromatic essences of cinnamon, apple pie, and pumpkin spice.  Seeing no mold floating on top of it, I did the unthinkable. I plugged it back in!  (Don’t judge me.)  Within twenty minutes, the smells of the Christmas Season permeated my library once again! I was amazed that such a simple act produced such a noticeable transformation in the air around me.  In this moment, a new thought permeated my heart.  An epiphany, all wrapped up in soggy, two-week-old potpourri!   I realized that the only reason the atmosphere around me changed so drastically was because of the heat exchange that occurred under the mini-crockpot when I plugged it in. Now, this gift might seem unimpressive or even simplistic to some, but I unwrapped a greater principle here, I believe applies to each of our own hearts and lives. 

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“WE WERE MADE TO GLORIFY GOD…TO SATURATE AND CHANGE THE ATMOSPHERE AROUND US IN THIS WORLD BY FILLING IT WITH THE FRAGRANCES OF HIS LOVE AND GOODNESS.”

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You see, each one of us is created by God to be a unique creation in this life.  We are His special blends of one-of-a-kind names and faces, fingerprints and personalities, hearts and souls, passions and talents; all meant for one thing. To Glorify God.  To saturate and change the atmosphere around us in this world by filling it with the fragrance of God’s Love and Goodness.  However, much like the potpourri in the forgotten crockpot, we, too, have a tendency to grow cold, stale and useless without the flame that brings the heat exchange inside of us. This can’t happen without being plugged-in to God’s Word every day. You see, He is the Flame.  God designed us to be simmering pots filled with our own special blend of God-given potpourri in this life.  Simmering pots whose aromatic essences were meant to permeate the dense atmosphere of this world around us and entice those who walk within it with the fragrances of God’s love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.   

On a more sobering note, the day God’s Simmering Pots grow cold and the fragrances of His Love and Goodness no longer saturate the atmosphere surrounding us, our world is on a self-destructive path.  A dark path saturated with an atmosphere of hopelessness and rebelliousness; one reflective of a life being lived without a purposeful awareness of the God Who surrounds them.  To both ‘the simmering pots’ and ‘the pots that are not’, God beckons each of us to be aware… “Your life is a journey you must travel with a deep consciousness of God…” (1Peter 1:18a )

HEART TRAPPINGS:

In light of all this, let me ask you something I asked myself at the onset of this New Year.  Will 2020 prove to be the year you stay behind the scenes, out of sight, unengaged and growing colder and staler by the minute; like ‘The Little Pot That Was Not?’

Or will this be the Year of the Flame for you?  Will you allow God to pour you out as His special blend of Potpourri in life; fully plugged-in and warmed by His Presence and His Word… permeating this world as God’s atmosphere-changer and world-rearranger like ‘The Simmering Pot?’

The choice is ours, but remember this: “It’s the warmth of the Flame which is life’s key to the fragrances which rise from that “Potpourri of Me!”

Prayer: Dearest Father in Heaven…Thankyou for ushering me into this new year with such a beautiful way of thinking. My greatest desire is to permeate the world around me with essences of Your Love and Your Goodness. Fill us all with wise minds and spirits tuned to Your will so we might acquire a thorough understanding of the ways You work in this world. Keep us plugged in to Your Word and ever-warmed by Your Sweet Presence as we endeavor to become your “Simmering Pots” in this world around us. In Jesus Name…Amen