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On one of THOSE days, the alarm clock fails to rouse me. After the third slap at the snooze button, I’ll roll off the bed to press my forehead on the carpet in prayer. In my fogginess, I misjudge the distance and crash a bit harder into the floor than I intend.

Please, God, spare my vanity and let there be no rug burn on my head.

The tweeting “sound spa” clock reminds me I didn’t quite turn it off. Red digits glare at me.

“I’m late.”

Protein bar and zip fizz have to make do for breakfast. I glance at my Bible with a pang of regret and grab for my purse. The phone charger cord yanks my arm back. After fumbling to untangle straps, elbow, and cord, its a race to the car.

Traffic slows to a crawl. What’s this? My road is closed. I clench my jaw while probing narrow streets for a new route. A German luxury car cuts me off. The protein bar crumbles onto my lap. I roll down the window to flick out the mess. A swig of carbonated B-vitamins coincides with a ragweed sneeze. Fizz burns into both nostrils. I slap my nose to stop the flow. Pink snot drops adorn my quaking palm. Another luxury car honks me away from the desperate search for a napkin. I return my slimy grip to the steering wheel, shouting the most popular query to heaven.

“Why?”

In this throng of dust-creatures, we bump into one another and grate our flesh on the brokenness of this world. Annoying days fade in comparison to the rampant tragedy filling the earth. None of the chaos, frustration, or pain makes sense. Suffering and loneliness seem to have no end or meaning. We often cry to the Lord in despair, wondering how a loving God can forsake us.

Jesus met us in our experience when He cried out to His Father on the cross,  “’My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” But He didn’t leave the question to hang out there without response. He gave His life with a final declaration, “It is finished.”

Christ resolved our loneliness and met our need for meaning. He stamped an expiration date on the broken world and its suffering. In that sacrificial moment, earth’s curse broke with the gift of wings.

When I use His wings to rise from the dustiness of life, I see things from a broader perspective. Above the smog of pain and sin, a clear sky brings fresh breath and new focus. I hear Truth and see beyond my present darkness. He is with each of us and all of us. Christ appears throughout every crowd and alongside those in solitude. Love gleams onto each rug-burned forehead below, even those too downcast to notice. A sweet breeze shifts my gaze to the horizon. Beyond the gloom, hope peeks from the coming Day with brilliance to outshine the dawn.

There’s more to today than our earth-view reveals. There’s more to life than this day’s gloom.

Instead of getting distracted by my discontent, I can zoom out with the wings I’ve been given. Acknowledging God’s supportive presence allows me to shift the day’s burdens to His shoulders. The weight of my momentary troubles set into His hands, I can direct my energy toward life’s true meaning–blessing.

Let me use this day, no matter how dusty or tragic, to lift the chins of the downcast. Lord, let my life draw attention upward so others see Your love.

 

 I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. ” (Romans 8:18).

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?…For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:35, 38-39).

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged” (Deuteronomy 31:8).

“How priceless is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 36:7).

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“Jesus answered: ‘Watch out that no one deceives you. For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am the Messiah,’ and will deceive many.  You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. . . Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold,  but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.” – Matthew 24:4-6,12-13

In less than twenty minutes of evening news, we see evil circling our community. Spouses lie crushed physically–and worse, emotionally. Parents harm infants. Children shoot classmates by the dozen.  The dark-clad terrorists victimizing lands across the sea are not as far away as they seem. Evil plots against those created in God’s image, conscripting pawns to carry out its destruction.

Fields, once green with potential, stand browned and dry. Clouds gather over love’s light, and the earth shudders. Christians murmur about end times. Some huddle in fear as persecution mounts across the world. Ripened wheat fields look rather dead, even hopeless, to the untrained eye. Farm folks know the signs of harvest, as should Christians.

The advancing darkness casts an ominous hue over the world’s landscape. It comes, as Jesus said it would. When things appear beyond all hope of rescue, expect the Savior to show up for harvest. Not just at the end of times, but whenever dry circumstances creep in and threaten to steal our faith. Bleak days occur far ahead of the end days, for the world and for each individual’s personal experience. Instead of growing fearful, we should prepare to offer our fruit.

When things feel uncertain and situations drain your vigor, it’s time to raise your head. Declare and demonstrate your purpose. Show the tasseling Spirit’s power to reap unbelievable benefit when all the worth seems lost. Congratulations on your coming victory over evil’s doom. Thank the Lord for looming challenges, because it’s a certain sign of a magnificent harvest on its way.

I don’t venture up onto my roof often. In fact, I only brave that weak-kneed climb if no one else volunteers to help with an annual task. My core tightens as I wobble those initial steps. After I reach the center and grip onto an anchoring structure, my lungs relax for a full breath. I look out across the treetops as dusk honeys the heads of our neighborhood live oaks. My view extends beyond our street to the school, ballparks, and the mass of homes further outward.

A moment on the peak shifts my perspective. The sunshine’s caress penetrates my cheekbones. The breath of a fresh season revives my senses. I consider distant homes as my neighbors. At this moment, when God secures my quivering frame, the world feels both larger and more intimate. Standing on the rooftop, I recognize myself as a saint.

As twilight darkens my view, time demands my return to life on the level earth below. I resume my daily routines, walking across the dust of the past toward the tomorrow from which it will grow. The miseries and burdens of passers-by permeate the stagnant air. I see despair in their eyes and feel the pull of hopelessness from their hearts. So much pain. I reach out with an urge to help, but hesitation quivers in my fingertips. I, too, have knees prone to buckling. Who am I to offer them strength? What if I let these fragile neighbors down? My doubts and fears tire me, and I begin to sink onto the curb of purposelessness. The suffering of life on the roads and in the alleyways tempts me to forget I am a saint.

Rays warmer than sunbeams lift my drooping chin. I need not search with my eyes to know Who is there.

“You are not made to be a saint for the rooftop,” He says. “Nor are you made to pour your own strength out to sustain these others.”

I want to leap from the curb and snuggle in His arms. Every muscle of my body, to the core of my soul, longs to soak in His presence forever. “Keep me with You,” I say.

My spirit inhales a heady draft of His invigorating fragrance.

“You are a saint because I am with you. Here on the road…” He turns my shoulders to face out across the vast neighborhood, through the nearby fences and into the world beyond them. “And out there. I am the strength you offer, the healing you convey. You got your bearings on the rooftop so you can live My purpose while you’re down here.”

I crane my neck, attempting to glimpse His brilliance. Though my eyes fail to capture a view of the Son, He has not left me alone. The Word of my promise-keeping God anchors my certainty about His location–within my heart.

I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you” (John 14:20).

The confidence that He remains with me girds my weak knees to venture out into the world and steadies my frail arms to reach out to bless those who suffer. I do not merely give myself to those in need, but I offer Someone far better. He alone can transform the unsteady roof climber into a earth-treading saint. The Son Who did so for me can change any willing soul. With such immense suffering, the world needs more saints to climb down and share His love on the roadway. Let’s reach out together, in His strength, to leave no neighbors to despair of hope.

“I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John17:20-23).

 “For through Him we both have access by one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with the saints, and members of God’s household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus Himself as the cornerstone” (Ephesians 2:18-20).

I pry my tongue from the pasty mire on the roof of my mouth. Parting my chapped lips, I heave in a breath of sultry air. Perspiration streams down my legs as I trudge across the parking lot. I struggle with a dizzy urge to hustle out of the August glare. My body cannot muster speed as it fights through the soupy haze. I hope my lungs don’t melt before I reach shade. I stagger through two sets of double doors. Freon-chilled air caresses my sticky neck and shoulders. The air conditioning fails to quell the nausea in my core or settle my reeling head. Shelves of empty vessels, soda concentrates, and coffee pods stare at me from the walls. Packaged beverage machines line the aisles. None can rescue my parched body. I need water. And there’s none here.

In our arid world, it’s common to stumble into the wrong places seeking water. When crowds stream toward a shady spot, it glimmers like a refuge mirage. The environment hooks our senses and draws us in. The diversion promises relief from the harsh elements, but indulgent comforts prove shallow. Hedonistic balms spritz an oh-so-temporary soothing over the outermost layer of skin. They vanish into thin air before reaching the burning need within. Pleasing the senses cannot quench the soul.

Some of us grope for chemicals, alcohol, or sex as a respite for inner thirst. But false relief can take more innocuous forms, too. Shopping, food, or other benign endeavors become toxic when misused as hydration. Like salt, good things offer benefit when used for the proper reason and in appropriate doses. When poured into our spirit’s well in place of living water, even good things can parch us to death.

On my dusty journey, I often feel the heat sapping my strength. Discouragement threatens to force my rubbery legs to give way beneath me. I gasp for some fresh breath to revive me, to help me plod forward another mile. Sometimes I want to go shopping or head to the spa. If I indulge my flesh instead of praying through my frailty, I end up with a mouthful of sand. Nothing satisfies. Disappointment adds to my emptiness. Then I remember the obvious. Only the Fountain of Life can refresh my spirit. When I feel least able to pray, that’s what I need most. Turning to Scripture and prayerful meditation draws me near to Christ. He fills the dry, empty caverns of my soul and quenches my deepest need. My hope renews, and I thank Him for His patience with me.

After our reviving moments together, sometimes the Lord encourages me to visit the spa or the mall. But we go together, sloshing with the threat of splashing passersby. Instead of seeking fulfillment there, I remain piped into the Fountain so I don’t miss an opportunity to share His love and peace with someone else.

 

“All my fountains are in you” (Psalm 87:10).

They feast on the abundance of your house;
    you give them drink from your river of delights.
 For with you is the fountain of life;
    in your light we see light” (Psalm 36:8-9).

She brushed past us in the school hallway. Her shoulders sagged beneath the weight of brimming tears. Flushed cheeks and nose betrayed her struggle to withhold sobs. She avoided eye contact.  The girl continued down the hall in silence, as if she hoped to take cover before the cry burst forth.

Did she know I prayed for her? As a complete stranger to her, I didn’t dare stop her or say anything that might add embarrassment to her morning. Of the dozen sorrow triggers I can imagine for high school orientation, I had no idea which one crushed her heart. I cannot say whether she whisked home without a single friend to ask what was wrong. I don’t know where she broke open to release that imminent flood of tears.

Perhaps the girl believed her stifled cries went unnoticed. If so, I pray she learns the truth. Though she’ll never know I cared, may her heart come to know One Who loves her without limit. If she sobs in a subterranean cave or weeps at the bottom of the sea, His heart will feel each stab of her pain. No cry is hidden from His ear.

I plead with the Holy Spirit to bring her a friend who will impart Christ’s love to her. She should not continue to feel unheard, unseen, or alone in her suffering. In more ways than one, she is not alone. Far too many people struggle in silent isolation from others, unaware of how precious they are to God. Christ reaches toward the lost and broken with compassion-scarred hands. I wish more people knew that He hears every moan and cherishes each tear as part of His own heart’s pain.

We can become the flesh of His embrace, reaching out to share love with the outcasts and the crushed souls. Whether today’s call is to prayer, an intimate conversation, or a blog post, the Spirit will prompt us. Offer hope. Show them Who cares. Though culture insists on qualifications like intelligence, vigor, or status, God seeks heartfelt obedience. Those who listen to the Spirit can brighten the world. One shivering soul at a time. In these chilling times, a throng of suffering hearts depends on us.

 

“The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:17-18).

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
    because the Lord has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,
 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
     and provide for those who grieve” (Isaiah 61:1-3).

“When they cry out to me, I will hear, for I am compassionate” (Exodus 22:27).

“You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted;
    you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
defending the fatherless and the oppressed” (Psalm 10:17-18)

Surely he took up our pain
    and bore our suffering” (Isaiah 53:4).

“You Yourself have recorded my wanderings.
Put my tears in Your bottle.
Are they not in Your records?” (Psalm 56:7-8)

 

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” –Matthew 5:14-16

Drought left the western earth thirsty, a tinder box waiting to catch with little more than a warm breath. One stray ember sparks a relentless blaze. Forest fires rage across thousands of acres and acrid smoke plumes across an entire state. Ready conditions require little to spur great flames.

We searched through sodden ditches. Green wood and rain soaked logs filled the truck bed. After an hour of persistent effort, we nurtured forth a glimmer of light. We fed the resistant stack, refusing to lose hope. A sweet reward loomed ahead, so  we worked with undaunted perseverance. Soon, the glow warmed all who surrounded it.

On fire

Joy overwhelmed me, since I had no intention of missing out on s’mores.

Christ calls us to act as His fire starters in the world. Some territories will receive the healing light of Jesus’ grace like parched brush. Flames will blaze from their hearts with an instant wildfire and spread to thousands of souls. Other ground we must cover lies sodden with resistance, and might not respond to our friendly invitation right away. We must not give up hope on those who question the truth, but continue reaching out to build light into the soggy pits of this world. Focus on the eternal goal and persist in love.

Imagine embracing the glimmering hearts of those Christ has sparked through your life of loving friendship. What joy we have in that hope, for a reward far sweeter than s’mores awaits us.

Silas twisted on the uneven stone floor and squinted through the cell’s dank shadows.The rough hewn stocks chafed at his swollen ankles. Pain raked across the raw flesh of his back as his shoulders rolled into a sticky puddle–his blood mingled with Paul’s, no doubt. Sour and metallic odors weighted the air between their bodies.

With trembling hands, Silas pressed the grimy floor to sit himself upright. His wrist shackles clattered as he pressed the throbbing lumps on his skull. Scurrying noises echoed around a grate near the corner. Furry creatures as long as his thigh squeezed through the bars. Tails whipped like scourge cords behind them. Crimson dots flashed near the wall. He blinked. An army of rats crept toward them, sniffing.

His heartbeat clinched his throat and pounded into his ears. Silas squeaked a whisper to his friend. “Do you see them?”

Paul’s wrist chain jangled as he clutched onto Silas’ hand. “It’s time to pray and sing. We praise and worship You, Lord…”

Silas closed his eyes. The nibble at his toes faded out of his thoughts as they sang in praise. Light filled his mind. He sang in harmony with Paul’s rattling voice, but another melody chimed in. From the back of his mind, he pictured a thousand gleaming soldiers who joined their song. The angelic voices lilted like the sounds of ethereal birds floating on island breezes.

A deep rhythm stirred beneath them. The ground shook the floor, walls. Silas opened his eyes to a brilliant flash. The stocks and chains exploded from his limbs. A roar of voices swept through the room, blasting the bars from the cell.

He and Paul stood, legs quivering. They strode out of the shadows toward a wailing man. Now, to set the jailer free…

 

“Rejoice in the Lord always…Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

-Philippians 4:4-8

I grew up among whispering live oaks and pines. I scampered with other kids into the woods or frolicked with them among the tree cluster in our yard. When no one else could play, I climbed into my favorite oak and imagined myself queen of a living castle. In my tropical state, I could enjoy those branches year-round with one caveat.

Florida is the lightning capital of the world. At the first crack of a thunderstorm, my mom insisted we rush indoors, unplug all appliances, and stay off the telephone. Our desire to play often outweighed our fear of a strike. We tended to dally before responding to the warning. Another page or two in my book before leaving my perch in the oak. A few more minutes in the woods.

The rumble grew. Black skies burst into a torrent, drenching me as I ran down the muddy road toward home. A crash resounded with a brilliant streak in the next door lot. Splinters flew as a smoking tree split in half. I paddled my hands and feet through the sheets of rain until my sneakers sloshed onto the front porch. My tee shirt and shorts clung to my skin like plastic wrap.

Mom repeated her advice about hearkening to the first sign. Thunder offers directions. Listen to them.

Unlike thunder, the Lord tends to offers us gentler and more subtle directions. His signs might include scripture, things happening around us, or a message spoken to us from His servants. Not every rumble is a message from God, but He provides us with His Spirit to discern them and guide us.

I still get engrossed in play. Watch another hour of television. Sleep a few more minutes. Browse the internet. Sometimes God encourages extra relaxation. Occasionally, a faint whisper into my heart advises me to shorten my recreation and make more time for prayer. Connection with the Lord’s discernment depends on a healthy habit of prayer and meditation. I must choose to resist the distractions in order to listen to the Holy Spirit.

After morning prayer and worship, I recycled some containers at the mall today. I felt free to browse through a few sale racks. After a while, an inner nudge reminded meI didn’t need anything and indicated it was time to leave.  I walked outside to greet an inky sky. Thunder rumbled across the parking lot. I strolled past the oak-shaded spots and climbed into my car. Two initial drops of rain hit my windshield, but I drove out of the storm’s path before the downpour began.

Thank you, Holy Spirit, for Your guidance, as it protects me from graver threats than lightning. Lord, please keep me steadfast in prayer and train my ears to stay open. Let my soul be drenched with each loving message You whisper. I don’t want to miss a single word.

 

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:27-28).

“pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.” (Ephesians 6:18). 

Teach me to do your will,
    for you are my God;
may your good Spirit
    lead me on level ground”(Psalm 143:10).

Do not quench the Spirit.  Do not treat prophecies with contempt but test them all; hold on to what is good,  reject every kind of evil” (1 Thessalonians 5:19-22).

The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace” (Romans 8:6).

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.  And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws” (Ezekiel 36:26-27).

 I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
    your old men will dream dreams,
    your young men will see visions.
Even on my servants, both men and women,
    I will pour out my Spirit in those days…And everyone who calls
    on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Joel 2:28-29,32).

Some vow to scale a cliff, visit a world wonder, or learn five languages. Others plan to taste exotic delicacies or indulge in the arts. Aimed toward travel, achievement, or adrenaline-laced adventure, most call these goals a bucket list. This litany of tasks aspires to define the completeness of one’s life. Measure the quality of life by the percentage of items checked off before kicking the bucket.

I tried to set a list in high school, with the following included among my goals:

  • Visit Mont Saint Michel.
  • Go to Australia.
  • Become CEO of a company.

I added, subtracted, tweaked. In college, I aspired to own a Lexus AND a company. Dreams of castle tours and grand success eroded in the wind like sand sculptures.

During recent decisions about travel, a shift in my attitude took me by surprise. Once a type-A, goal-oriented individual, I found myself feeling an unusual lack of concern about the agenda. A fresh perspective dawned upon my spirit—what I do-see-visit on this earth is of little consequence. Though I still enjoy experiences, circumstances alone cannot offer fulfillment to my life.

A visit to the mountains will fade from memory, but worship on the summit could change my impact upon others. It isn’t the castle tour that adds treasure to my spirit, but the love shared with those on the tour along with me. Whether I own a company, publish a blog post, or mop the kitchen floor in vain, my accomplishments will be measured by how I honor Jesus in each moment of my day.

My bucket list has shortened to one item–obey the Lord. While it sounds more like a rule, this solitary goal offers a view of the most miraculous wonders, the adventure of a lifetime, and an eternal crown of glory. I might never wear a crown or dwell in a castle before I kick the proverbial bucket, but my goal extends to eternity. More of a post-bucket list, really.

Whether I travel the world or communicate to it via twitter, my dream is to serve Jesus well along the way. If I have millions to donate or a word of truth to offer, let me glorify the Lord in the way I give. Whatever I become, wherever I go, and in all I do, Lord help me honor You.

That’s a goal I have to keep working on for the rest of my life. What about you? What’s on your bucket list?

 

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy,and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19-20).

“’Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.’” And he told them this parable: “The ground of a certain rich man yielded an abundant harvest. He thought to himself, ‘…I will tear down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store my surplus grain.’ …But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?’ This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God… For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well…Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Luke 12:15-17,20-21,30-31,33-34)

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18).

The odd life of a fairy tale creature begins ahead of our classic “once upon a time” moment. Forest animals pranced among the trees without a musical score and avoided humans until Snow White entered the scene. Attic mice scurried along like common vermin before Cinderella inspired them to sing. A frog croaks regrets of lost glory, his hopes fading day by day, until a royal kiss restores his identity.

In the backstory, these charming characters showed no promise. Unremarkable critters continued their existence with little or no potential to play a role in an epic tale. They knew nothing else, expected nothing more. Had they remained outside the storyline, they would have lived in perpetual commonness. The author chose them, knowing the story required drawing those specific characters into destined lines on its pages. Author selection transformed them from mundane whatevers into extraordinary creatures. 

As we scurry through the everyday ho-hum of our existence, commonness takes hold of our identity. We look into the mirror and declare the same first name–ordinary. We feel unremarkable, insignificant. Hope of promise or potential eludes us. Dramatic plights destined to change a kingdom remain foreign dreams, unknown to us.

Enter the Author. He opens His Story and everything changes.

Once upon a time, an epic tale chooses each of us. We choose whether to accept our destined role in the extraordinary new life. Remaining outside the storyline delivers a sentence of mundane existence. The Author’s quill feathers whisper over us an invitation to choose life.  Our previous lackluster state cannot limit the Author’s power. He specializes in dramatic transformation. The more impossible a character’s elevation seems, the more it adds sparkle to the story.

Examine the Author’s previous work. Ordinary mice like Gideon become valiant heroes. David, the bleating little back-country kid, morphs into a king with an everlasting legacy. And in a little mudpuddle called Nazareth, an impoverished girl becomes the mother of God’s Son.

Those who accepted Him as Author of their lives received a transforming Holy Spirit to dwell within them. The Lord’s power seated inside, no Christian remains ordinary. Unlike the fairy tale versions, our mirrors tell precious little of who we are. The Prince of Peace knows your identity and your true destiny. Take His hand, and accept your role as an extraordinary creation. Follow the Author’s Words and become part of the story that will lead to to a joy far greater than happily ever after could promise you.

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