Tag Archive | Jesus

Reminders of a broken heart . . . revisited

Jesus Calling

No matter what your circumstances may be, you can find Joy in My presence. On some days Joy is generously strewn along your life-path… other days are overcast and gloomy… yet Joy is still attainable. Search for it as for hidden treasure

Begin by remembering that I have created this day; it is not a chance occurrence. Recall that I am present with you… then, start talking with Me. Awareness of My marvelous Companionship can infuse Joy into the grayest day.

Psalm 21:6; Proverbs 2:4

Daily devotional excerpt from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.

This devotional by Sarah Young reminds me that joy is possible even if most days feel gloomy. The heart is open to receive . . . and my mind went back to a previous creation below. Read it for the first time or reread it again. Not because of something I have done, but because of what God wants to do. It may take lots of time, but He’s always patient. Eventually we will embrace the hope and feel the joy sprinkled along our journey.

* * *

The Downton Abbey characters are probably accurately portraying the English in the early 1920’s with their habit of holding emotions inside. I have grown quite fond of the Crowley family, currently preparing their 4th season. Quite long enough to have grown attached to each member of the family. I could not even turn away as the youngest daughter slipped away due to eclampsia after giving birth to a baby girl. They should have hired me to shed some tears for each of their shocked and stoic faces. I had plenty. I became an embarrassing puddle for the one watching with me. (who can understand the ways of a woman, right?) But seriously, the director should keep a an eye dropper of water handy to use at such moments to at least give evidence that the English have tear ducts.

Of course this tapped into a sordid supply of feelings long since spent and yet as current as yesterday. We dine on sitcoms and reject reality. We feast on reality shows and create a famine for truth. I don’t get it. Just consider this a lamenting drivel of pointless thought about life and the constant quest to understand the cruelty of death; the robber that keeps the need for head stones in old, ordinary church yards long overdue for a gardener’s touch or hugging the ground in the pristine garden green that from a distance looks like a lovely place to build a home, but it’s not.

Strange. Time has helped me get used to living without my first child. Tears don’t pour down my face as often now. But the deep pain is always within arm’s reach, intending  to reel me back in when I least expect it. As many words as I have poured unto paper which filled a book, one would think there would be nothing left to say. But my words are not your words. Your words are not my words. Today’s words are not tomorrow’s words. There are always more. The depth of one’s heart cannot be measured. Perhaps it has no bottom, but it has stairs ~ a winding circular staircase edged with railings carved by nail-scared hands. The railings are smooth to my touch. It is dark as I enter my heart. My eyes are blurry so I grip the railings for support. Perhaps they were carved by one who has an intimate relationship with wood for they are silky smooth.

I wipe my eyes, trying to see. I hear the rhythmic beat of my blood pumping soft and steady. It’s reassuring. I sit down on a step to rest. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I realize I’m not alone. He’s there, sitting beside me. I’m not startled by his presence, but drawn to snuggle next to him. We are quiet. Neither of us speaks. In the soft light I can see further down where I came before to sit and weep and think. He came then too. I remember he held me close as I cried. Per usual I had no tissue with which to blow my nose. He smiled and offered the edge of his wide sleeve. I smiled at the prospect of blowing on pure whiteness, but one does what one must at such times. I blew on the soft linen of his sleeve. He put His other arm around me, saying softly, “Don’t worry. It will dry. I have plenty more where it came from.”

I wasn’t sure how long I wanted to stay. These visits, working down into the unknown depth of my shattered heart, are painful and make me deeply sad as I remember the sweetness that once rested on my heart . . . listening to it’s comforting, steady beat while floating in a warm bath inside my tummy. That was the beginning for a child loved since conception and God had already loved and longed for his arrival throughout the ages . . . long before the short years we had together . . . which ended way too soon.

It  doesn’t feel like I need to explore deeper this night. He understands and draws me to his breast for one more reassuring hug. We stand together for a moment longer before I retrace my steps. The curved stairway disappears from view and my touch. Perhaps next time we will meet here again and arm in arm, descend a few more steps into the chambers of my broken, but mending heart.”

The Lord is my Strength and my [impenetrable] Shield; my heart trusts in, relies on, and confidently leans on Him, and I am helped; therefore my heart greatly rejoices, and with my song will I praise Him.  Psalm 28:7, amp


He’s Mine!

Tug of war? Sometimes I think so. No doubt there are sides; one Good and one evil. This story, shared by a friend, reminds me of the war game we are in only it’s not a game. It is a fight to the death. As hard as the battle rages, we know who wins. We’ve read the back of the Book. So dig in!

English: Author: Irish Tug of War Source: (OWN)

English: Author: Irish Tug of War Source: (OWN) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 ~ Sharing a mother’s story written as a letter from God ~

But stop your crying and wipe away your tears. Everything you have done for your children will not go unrewarded. I will bring them back from death and from the land of the enemy.  Jeremiah 31:16

My Dear Daughter,

Do not weep over the death of your precious son. He was a glowing ember in My heart long before he was a twinkle in his daddy’s eye. Do you trust Me? Trust in My power to restore him to you one day soon. I have many other children who are also resting until I come. Perhaps it will help you to hear a story about another young son of Mine.

Some years ago, I had a precious son who loved the great outdoors. He often hiked in the mountains or kayaked the rivers; flying down the steep waterfalls into the foam below. He was exhilarated and happy when he was celebrating My creation, his face radiating sheer joy. I had to throw back My head and laugh, sharing in his excitement. He had such gifts, but he had such sorrows too and they got the best of him with the enemy’s help.

This young man had gone camping and had parked in the cliffs overlooking a canyon high in the Sierra Mountains. He was missing for days and his mother was distraught with worry. While a Search and Rescue team was dispatched to look for him, I knew where he was and I did not leave his side.

I gave a vision to a friend of his mother’s and she awoke with a start. The vision was in vivid color and she recognized the face of the young man lying on a ledge near the canyon floor by a stream. Instantly awake, she was on her feet and sprinted to the phone. With shaky fingers she dialed the phone number of his mother who hadn’t been able to sleep, her heart heavy with the devastating news that her son was dead.

My arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders. I had been sitting beside her for hours, holding her and wiping the tears that streamed down her cheeks. I ached to resurrect her son on the spot, but he, like your son, will have to rest until I come again.

The phone rang. It was his mother’s friend, calling to check on her. I helped her choke out the words, “They found my son. He’s dead.” Her friend responded, “I know,” she offered sadly. “I saw him in a vision. But you have to hear what else I saw. He was not alone on that outcrop on the canyon wall,” she chattered in breathless excitement, “Jesus was standing on one side of your son and Satan on the other, and I could hear them talking just as clearly as if they were in my bedroom. Jesus said calmly, but firmly, ”satan, you cannot have him any longer. You have tormented him long enough and he’s Mine.’

“To which satan spat back, pointing his bony finger toward Jesus, ‘But he broke Your commandment: Thou shalt not kill.’ ”

Jesus paused, allowing Satan’s ringing words to exit the canyon. Again He answered calmly but firmly “‘No, you don’t understand, Satan. He’s Mine now . . . and forever!”

My arm still around her shoulders, My daughter slowly hung up the phone and we sat down together. She began to relax in My embrace and I knew she understood. She would one day soon have her precious gift I had given her, back again. She would embrace her son again.

See, My daughter, I have given special hearts to mothers to love their children unconditionally for as long as they have them, but they will continue to miss them all of their days until eternity. But for My kids, it will seem like they had just closed their eyes in sleep when I come to wake them up! Continue to share your stories and the Good News, will you?

All My Love,

Jesus, Your Forever Friend

For I will contend with him who contends with you, and I will save your children. Isaiah 49:25 


“Shattered By Suicide, My Conversations With God After The Tragic Death Of My Son”

by Gracie Thompson

Build on the Rock

My Child, You must listen to My Words in order to heed their teachings. And if you do, you will be like the wise person who built his house on a firm foundation by digging down deep into solid rock. He is prepared when the flood waters rise and break against the house. It will stand firm.  Luke 6:48

English: Rock outcrop on Newquay beach. The pr...

Rock outcrop on Newquay beach. The private house built on the rock is linked to the mainland by a suspension bridge. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

On the other hand, if you just read My Words and don’t work them into your daily life, you are like the foolish carpenter who builds his house on a sandy beach. When a storm rolls in and the waves come up it will collapse like a deck of cards.  Matthew 7:26-27

Consider the first house with a firm foundation. This person reads and heeds My Words, sweeping his new house clean of all evil. It is kept clean and tidy . . . but empty. The enemy keeps watch. He loves empty and he will return to that same house bringing more demons with him and the condition of this man’s heart will be worse than if he had never built it on a firm foundation in the first place.  Matthew 12:43-45

You see, My Child, I know the condition of your “house.” I know when it is swept clean but remains empty. And I long to fill it with My love and power, but you must first let Me in. “I stand at the door and knock.”  Revelation 3:20

I won’t barge in against your will, but the enemy will. He’ll peek in the windows and if he sees that your house remains empty, he’ll return and force his way in with  many cronies in tow in his attempt to completely destroy you. Please, let Me in. Let’s study and learn together. Let’s put your firm foundation to good use. Let Me save you from destruction.

Your Friend,


All scripture paraphrased

~shared from “Shattered by Suicide” (sold on Amazon)

Tribute to Mothers this Mother’s Day

Many women have done noble work, but you have surpassed them all!   Proverbs 31:29 GW

family feet

family feet

The days and months tick by and another holiday is upon us. To all you moms out there, I wish you a happy Mother’s Day with your families. Whether you have outlived your children or still have them and their offspring gathered around you, you are always a mother and greatly blessed.

If I may, I choose to devote this piece to moms who live with daily heartache after the loss of one or more of their children. Every holiday brings a stab of pain. We can’t help it. We love all our children; they are most precious, but we will never forget the one we no longer can love and touch, noting their shared characteristics. I love the resemblance. But at the same time it stings and I wince just a little. Do you? Has the pain ever lessened?

No matter how many years it’s been and perhaps this is your first, we get through them and even have some moments of pleasure surrounded by those we love. They yearn for this day to be special. They will for us to go on; to find them to be enough. We love their intent and we try our best to be the special mom for this special day so that they are comfortable. But where is the deep comfort we long for? Not the superficial stuff just under the mask, but the deep heart stuff. You know what I mean. You know where it is. Most often it’s just too painful to poke around in there too much. We imagine it to be ten times worse than a root canal without Novocaine, and I’m sure it is.

Love is Pain Tattoo

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I ponder this question spiritually speaking, I wonder about God. Does the pain ever lessen for Him? He’s on a grief journey too. His loss is constant and unfathomable to me. If He has been present at every birth and every death since the beginning of time, that is too much grief for my mind to process. But it beckons consideration, doesn’t it? Our heavenly Father poured Himself into His Son, Jesus Christ, who poured Himself out for us. If He had not died on the cross, we’d be without hope and most miserable in our sins. But there was no heavenly system failure. Jesus followed through on what He came to do. He showed us what His Dad is like and He did not turn back from death. I get a lump in my throat when I think about my Friend dying for my sins and dying as a common criminal, a dirt bag, scum of the earth, if you will. His own people relished the kill, wanting it so badly they were willing to own it and even shouted, “His blood is on us and on our children!” (Matthew 27:25). Haunting words that continue to ricochet down the halls of time. They got their wish.

So God did a wondrous thing when He made Mothers, creating within them the ability to make new life. We are the product of a loving Master Designer and He does not make disposable. Ever. He loves us more than we can understand His pure love, but He has designed mothers to love deeply their unborn child as it begins to grow and kick. And then to hold their baby for the first time, and look into that sweet, puckered little face with eyes trying to focus while squinting against the harsh, bright delivery room lights. Almost immediately we begin the juggle of meeting their most basic needs with loving care which soon turn into car pools and packing lunches. We lie quietly in bed, listening for gentle breathing before we nod off, dreaming of all the special things we want to teach them before they fly from the nest in preparation for an exciting future bursting with promise.

That’s the ideal. That was God’s plan. As we look at this sweet babe, who could imagine God killing the baby He just gave life too? God makes babies. He does not kill our children. This has always been the work of a murdering thief (John 10:10). It is a complex study of God’s Word; comparing scripture with scripture and asking God to reveal His purpose in  bite-sized portions so the “light will come on” in our minds and we can begin to comprehend it, for His thoughts are so much higher than ours (Isaiah 55:9). But He has not neglected us and He never will. He loves us and desires that we love Him back and as we do a tiny seed of faith begins to sprout and the heart is stirred into hope, and hope does not disappoint (Romans 5:5).

This mother’s day will be different for me. I have hinted [strongly] that I want to spend time with my family of avid golfers on the course, watching them chase a little white ball which never became my passion, but it is theirs and I want to watch their joy in the sport. Perhaps your family will carve out something different from the usual if the usual is too hard to bear. But no matter what, we are mothers. We have spent our lives investing in our children. We are entitled to have this day. We’ve “paid our dues” with bitter-sweet tears. But through it all, isn’t it better to risk the pain that is love?

The arms that held and rocked our sweet babies now ache from loss. I look forward to the day when I get to squeeze the stuffin’s out of my boy who will be all brand new.  And no more death. . . . ever again. It will be a reunion of families like no other!



Delanie praying

Delanie praying (Photo credit: fishin widow)

New awareness raised after Easter put a prayer is on my lips ~

My Friend Jesus,

I am every so grateful for your touch. Many of us often feel untouchable by mankind. Some of us have oozing sores, others of us have slept by the dumpster too long and we are filthy.

Some of us walk the streets at night, trying to make a living while others of us mourn . . . but no matter the reason, we can feel untouchable. Even if we are loved, it is often from a safe distance.

Some of us feel like we reside inside a chalk-drawn circle and few venture in close enough for a touch and stay to exchange words. Does our pain or filthy rags stop them? Will they catch what we have? Will they become dirty or contaminated if they touch our unwashed skin? Will sorrow soon catch up with them if they grieve too long with us?

What makes us shy away, Lord? Has the “tidied up and put away” focus of society caused us to turn away from the broken down, the hobbling, the slowly dying or keep us from venturing into the poor sections of town?

If I desire to be like you, Jesus, I will not turn away. You didn’t.

When he came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”

“Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. ‘I am willing,” He said. “Be clean!’ Immediately he was cured of his leprosy.”  Matthew 8:1-3

I have to say, Jesus, you amaze me. You never shy away from sick, wretched conditions of any kind. In fact, you used some pretty strong language with the teachers of the law during the years you were on earth. You will recall this one:

These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their hearts aren’t in it. They act like they’re worshiping me but don’t mean it.  Isaiah 29:13

I said I’d follow you no matter where you lead, remember? Then I must be willing to follow you to the dumpster, to the poor parts of town, into nursing homes, and into the arms of those who are in pain, depressed, hurting, lost.

Thank you, Jesus, for your example. Please give me the desire to follow you and the strengthen me to be your hands, feet and heart to anyone in need. Love you forever.

~ “Shattered by Suicide: My Conversations with God After the Tragic Death of My Son”

Daily Chat

Broken Heart

Broken Heart (Photo credit: Gabriela Camerotti)

Dear Jesus,

You and I have been chatting back and forth for a long time now. Perhaps I should clarify that a bit . . . I do most of the talking while You listen. I have told You over and over that I want to be more like You. I desire to share the same close relationship You have with Your Father. You have told me that it is possible, but I first must let go of everything and give it to You. I must trust You completely . . . instead of hashing and rehashing each day’s events and concerns.

Am I supposed to say something like, “Jesus, You already know all my problems today, so I am asking You to handle them. Thanks!”

But that sounds too simple ~ way too easy. Are You sure there isn’t more I need to do or say first?

“No, My Child,” He answers kindly. “I Am the same yesterday, today, and forever. You can trust Me with all your heart and lean on Me for understanding. I’ve got your back . . . and front. Now all I need is permission to have all of your heart.”



Hebrews 13:8; Proverbs 3:5, paraphrased

~from “Shattered by Suicide”

Rejecting Our Redeemer

The servant grew up before God ~ a scrawny seedling, a scrubby plant in a parched field. There was nothing attractive about Him, nothing to cause us to take a second look. He was looked down on and passed over, a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand. One look at Him and people turned away. We looked down on Him, thought He was scum. But the fact is, it was our pains He carried. Our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us we thought He brought it on Himself, that God was punishing Him for His own failures. 

But it was our sins that did that to Him, that ripped and tore and crushed Him ~ our sins! He took the punishment and made us whole. Through His bruises we got healed. We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost. We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong, on Him, on Him.  Isaiah 53:2-6, The Message  

High sheeps

 (Photo credit: Bertoz)

Dear Lord,

I may think I have known rejection in my life, but when I read about Your trauma in Isaiah, nothing in my life compares.

I am awed, humbled and amazed how You responded to the children You created by going ahead and dying to save us anyway.

Forgive me, Lord.


~from Shattered by Suicide

The needing blanket

For we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus [the leaning of your entire human personality on Him in absolute trust and confidence in His power, wisdom, and goodness] and of the love which you [have and show] for all the saints (God’s consecrated ones).  Colossians 1:4, amp

Feather, the cat, purring and kneading her fav...

Feather, a Pipy look alike, purring and kneading her favorite blanket. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why to they do it? Don’t know about your felines, but mine, ALL  of them, like to knead soft stuff before they lie down on it. Are they tenderizing? Long ago memories of kneading on mama cat? One of our cats whose name is not Feather, but one equally as noble, prefers to knead on me. There are too many muffin tops to choose from and frankly the reminder that I have them does not make me smile. (If cat-paw action broke up fat, then this would be an entirely different conversation and perhaps one that could lead to a Noble prize in medicine.)

But I must say, I prefer they knead on other stuff than on me. Some months ago, we received a surprise gift from a dear friend. She had taken hours of her precious time to knit us a soft and cozy blanket; one that begs to be curled up under with a book in hand. But desperate times call for desperate measures so when the purring begins and there’s a glazed look in his  eyes that says, “I want you, babe and you’re all mine”, I pet him and then pile up our cozy hand-knitted blanket and wedge it between me and “Mr. groping paws”.

Like the cats, I have needed much more comforting  the last few years than during the first half of my life. Recovery from suicide is impossible the way I look at it. It’s more of a life-long journey with my hand in His. I need His lifeline. I need His power. I need His comfort. I need His understanding. I need His acceptance. I need His peace. I guess this means I need Him to be my everything that no one else can be. Even if they also have suffered the loss of someone to suicide, we recognize we are in the same boat, but we don’t move through the rapids with the same oars.

If I had my way, right now, right today, I’d be curled up on God’s lap with His handmade blanket wrapped tightly around me. It would be our time; just the two of us and all my needs would evaporate with His tender touch.

The humble shall see it and be glad; you who seek God, inquiring for and requiring Him [as your first need], let your hearts revive and live!  Psalm 69:32, amp






Bubbles of mirth

“Mirth is God’s medicine.  Everybody ought to bathe in it.”  ~Henry Ward Beecher

Young boy blowing bubbles

Young boy blowing bubbles (Photo credit: Images of Sri Lanka – Sequential Shots)

Laughing on the outside. Crying on the inside. Sound familiar? I just posted a blog on tears. And here’s one on laughter; back to back. Go figure. It’s how my (warped) mind works. Perhaps you can relate. At least I hope you can. Either that or I have already lost your interest. What we can both agree on is that our fragile emotions are unpredictable; hence laughter one minutes, tears the next. My heart craves laughter relief. I have a funny bone ~ and so do you, yes?

The road of grief is long and dusty. Nothing much to look at. The landscape is dry and barren. We hope in Jesus’ soon return so we can be reunited forever with those we love. Meanwhile, the Bible tells us in Luke 19:13 to occupy until He comes. And while we “occupy” can we laugh a little?

Put your memory cap on. Ever had a belly laugh? I mean an honest-to-goodness internal jogging? Can’t remember? Been that long ago, huh? Me too. I have to strain to recall a story so funny that my sides ache from the belly exercise (it can use it) and my cheek muscles need a massage afterwards. Ahhhh. You remember one now? I’d love to have you share it so we all can enjoy.

I recall one I’d like to share. It’s true, believe it or not. No. It didn’t happen to my immediate family, but that is as much information as I will give. People demand privacy, you know, especially when the joke is on them. I have thought about mailing it to Reader’s Digest, not that they would publish, but it’s the thought that counts . . . and I can always count on a few bubbles of mirth at the memory.

A couple had purchased a rural knoll on which to build their retirement home. This would be a DIY project from the ground up and completed in two stages. First, build the garage and live in it while completing the house. Sounds good on paper and so they began clearing the land and setting up temporary housing in a tin lean-to; a three-sided contraption intended to give shelter from the night chill, but since they had planned  to be under roof before winter, they could manage this temporary bungalow with ease. After all, they were seasoned campers.

As it usually goes, it took longer getting going than anticipated and they were not enjoying warm shelter in the garage before cold weather set in. Poor things. These brave souls hunkered down under multiple layers of blankets trying to keep warm in their three-sided igloo. This was rustic living at its finest including an outdoor privy which had a door, but no heat or other creature comforts. And there is nothing warm about feeling the urge  in the wee hours of the morn. Squirm. Pull the covers tighter and try to overlook nature’s call. No good. Not going to happen.

Crawling out of his cocoon, the husband felt around for the flashlight in the early dawn. Couldn’t find it. Then he groped around for a certain article of clothing . . . ahhhh . . . his undies. No sense in freezing all functioning body parts. His fishing about woke up his wife.

“What are you looking for”, she asked with a yawn. “I’m hunting for my underwear,” he retorted. Now she was awake. Raising up on her elbows and adjusting to the dim light, she squinted and then fell back onto her pillow laughing uproariously! Of course, he was annoyed. SHE didn’t have to get up. So what was so funny?

“What’s so funny?” he demanded gruffly. Between fits of laughter she pointed to his head. “They’re up there!!!” she convulsed with more guffaws. He felt his head. Yup. It was covered, but not in the usual sock cap he wore to keep warm. Instead, this “cover” had a dual purpose. It had openings for legs!  Now it’s your turn to laugh:).

How happy are you who weep now, for you are going to laugh!  Luke 6:21, b



After election thoughts . . .

Please note. I don’t live and breathe politics. When news guests begin to crunch the numbers, I glaze over. No stump speech; we’ve had enough of those, but I do have an opinion and this piece, by Roger Bothwell, got me thinking about whether or not we really think in this land of ours? Read on:
God is not Glorified by Ignorance
A 50ish looking man from India came into my hospital room each evening to take my blood pressure. On the way out he would always say, “Is there anything I can get for you?”  So one evening I responded, “Yes, Matthew, I would like a new Cadillac.”  To which he said, “What’s a Cadillac?”  He was serious so I asked how long had he been in America.  “Twenty-three years” was his astounding answer.  So I said, “Okay, I will take a new Buick.”  Again he claimed he had no idea what I was talking about.
How is it possible for someone to be in a culture for twenty-three years and be so unaware?  I found out he drove back and forth to work in his Toyota.  Did he not see other cars around him, especially when waiting for a traffic signal?  What about commercials on television?  He told me he had a TV and watched it.
I know that in John 17 Jesus spoke of being in the world but not of the world, but this seemed radical.  In Matthew 10 Jesus told us to be wise as serpents.  One cannot be wise if one is ignorant.  God is not glorified by uninformed servants.  If we are to be useful servants we need to be discerning of culture, especially if we have young people in our families.  They are immersed in their culture of clothes, music, etc.  We must understand people’s needs and know what to say and what not to say in troubled times.  Real wisdom is a knowledge filled head dedicated to understanding rules and the principles under-girding those rules.
~Roger Bothwell
Question: Does God concern Himself with our voting decisions? Does He care who runs our country? How about we answer these questions with a story from long ago recorded in 1 Samuel 8. You can read the details for yourself, so I will briefly summarize. When the prophet Samuel was getting old, the people of Israel asked Samuel to appoint them a king. This upset Samuel and He prayed to God about it. God told Samuel, ” It is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected Me as their King (vs. 7).
Let’s unpack this quote for a moment. The people who had been led all this time by the God of heaven, would prefer to have an earthly king so that they would be like their neighbors. Heaven vs earthly. Hmmm. They would trade in the God of heaven who leads without error for a human who is full of errors and provides leadership based on what those around him tell him to do. He may or may not rely on the God of heaven for his instruction. His pride in his own ability may get in the way and though fallible, he leads his nation.
The people had experience with God’s leadership for generations. With the Best of the Best, why would they restlessly seek to be like the heathen nations? What comes to mind is, dah, what were they thinking?
Is it possible that we carry over ideas from previous generations? Do we carefully and prayerfully reason out who will be our best leader? Do we desire someone who impresses us with their looks and promises or do we soul search for something deeper for leadership? The Israelite’s had God as their leader and yet they desired a tall, dark and handsome Saul, who turned out to be a poor leader. How could they compare him with the God of heaven and turn God down? I shake my head, dumbfounded. How about you?

We read these stories of old for our learning. We don’t need to repeat their problems. They are all recorded to lead us toward God and to trust His leadership day by day. The leaders of our land will come and go, but the Leader of our lives will not. He stands forever. I choose to keep my thoughts on Him. I want to go home; to my real home. I want all my earthly brothers and sisters to go too, but there are many who won’t be interested. They will turn their backs on God; craving rather the sweets of this earth with their mouths already full of decay. The Bible says this will happen. The only question for me is, “Why?”

The narrow gate

Here are a couple of texts to chew on. Let’s be mindful that setting our sites on heaven is no easy journey. It calls for a love relationship with Jesus Christ.

If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.  2 Chronicles 7:14

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it.  Matthew 7:13