Month: April 2018

April 27, 2018

The Purse

The evening has been beautiful and the two ladies have enjoyed the play very much. As they walk toward their cars they are enjoying the moon lit sky, the stars, and the warm evening breeze as they discuss the finer points of the play.

Reaching their cars they give each other a quick hug and wish the other a blessed night. Sarah steps into her car, closes the door and pulls the car out onto the street.

Mary has lingered beside her car for a moment to gaze up at the moon and stars. She is unaware that someone has been watching her and her friend.

Whispering, “Thank you, Jesus for this beautiful night,” she reaches for the car door handle and is suddenly hit from behind, knocking her to the ground. The assailant grabs her purse and runs off into the darkness.

A Man races towards her. Her evening gown is torn and her elbow and hands are skinned from hitting the pavement.

“Are you okay?” the Man asks gently as He helps her to her feet.

“He stole my purse!” Mary states as she brushes the dirt from her dress and hands.

“Let Me see,” the Man says as He gently takes her hands in His.

“He stole my purse! My driver’s license, my credit cards, everything is in there!” Tears fill her eyes.

The Man gently rubs her hands and Mary doesn’t notice the scrapes are suddenly healed. Her focus is on the loss of her purse.

“He has stolen my identity!” she jerks her hands away in frustration.

“Mary,” the Man states. “He cannot steal your identity. He only stole some paper. Who you are is not what is on those cards. Your identity is in Me for I am in you and you are in Me.”

Mary swipes at her tears, looks at her healed hands, gasps, and grabs the Man in a hug.

(Sue’s version) Romans 8:17 – John 15:4-5, 14:20 – Gal. 2:20

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April 17, 2018

The Dude Versus Man

It’s 1864 and the stage coach has just rolled down the dusty street. The horses whinny as the driver on top pulls on the reins and yells “whoooo.”

The curtain covered door opens and a lady dressed in fine silk and a large hat with a peacock feather swishing in the wind, steps down onto the dusty street. Her bags are lowered from on top of the stage coach and she smiles and thanks the driver.

Stepping out from the saloon doors is a unsavory-looking dude. He smirks and saunders over to the lady, “Here, let me get your bags,” he offers.

Hours later, as raucous laughter fills the room, the lady is passed from hands to hands and laps to laps of the men. The lady has been their entertainment.

The unsavory-looking dude watches with glee for a while but then decides it’s time to claim his prize. He drags the lady out the saloon doors and has gripped her arm tightly. She’s struggling but cannot break his hold.

A door opens and a Man steps out. He stands watching for a moment as the unsavory dude pushes, yells, and finally slaps the lady. “You’re mine!” He states and starts to drag the lady down the dusty street toward the hotel.

The Man steps out into the street and faces the unsavory dude. “Let her go.” He states. The unsavory dude is shocked to see the Man but refuses to let her go.

There’s a stand-off in the street. The Man against the unsavory dude. The unsavory dude hisses, spits, and yells insanely. The Man stands, legs spread and His hand posed at His side.

The unsavory dude takes his stance and glares at the Man.

The sidewalk has filled with people lining the street. An ugly fight is expected. “Get him, dude” someone yells. Women stand behind the men peaking around them.

“Loose her!” The Man demands. His Authority fills the air.

The unsavory dude suddenly drops his hold on the lady and turns and runs down the street leaving the town behind him.

The lady runs to the Man and is thanking Him profusely.

The Man looks at her with love in His eyes and gently states, “Go and sin no more.”

The disappointed crowd disperses.

(Sue’s version) John 8:11

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April 13, 2018

A Gentle Touch

The woman bows before the rock and with a voice filled with pain she requests the gods to give her relief. There is no response. She moves to a nearby tree and bows before the tree. She requests that the gods give her relief. There is no reply.

Frustrated she moves to the flowing stream. She stands in the cold water. Her head is thrown back and her arms reach out as she pleads with the gods to give her relief. There is no relief.

Feeling dejected and confused she steps out of the water and sits on the grass crying. “Why, oh gods, are you not answering me? My pain is great but you are ignoring my plea.”

A Man steps from the river and asks if He may sit with her for a moment. She glances up at Him and agrees. He sits down and gazes out over the river and says nothing for a long moment.

“Why are you praying to a rock, a tree, a river?” He gently asks.

“They are the earth gods. I worship Mother earth.” she replies while drying her tears.

“But they have no power.” The Man states.

The woman looks at Him and then looks away.

“There is only one God and He is the One who has the power. He is the One who created the rock, the tree, the river. Do you not realize He is the One who can relieve your pain?”

“Who do you think you are to tell me my god has no power?!” The woman angrily shouts as she jumps up to leave.

The Man rises and standing before her He gently replies, “I am the I Am. I created all that you see. I am the Power you are looking for.”  He reaches out His hand and touches her cheek gently and the woman suddenly drops like a brick dropped from a roof to the ground.

She lies there for a long moment and when she opens her eyes, the Man is gone and so is her pain.

(Sue’s version) Exodus 20:3

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April 11, 2018

Every Choice has a Consequence

party-in-the-park-2009

The day is sunny and bright. People are gathered in celebration of the holiday. Flags rustle in the wind and cheers fill the air as the speaker on the podium completes his speech.

The aroma of barbecue fills the air. Ice tea is served up by the gallons, potato salad is chilled on ice, and the baked beans are hot and savory. People are heard laughing, talking, and sharing stories of times past. Families sit at long wooden tables or gather on blankets on the grass enjoying the day and the celebrations.

As evening light begins to fade the crowd begins to disperse. The roar of a motorcycle’s engine deafens the person standing near by. Slamming his hands over his ears he yells at the rider, “You’ll be sorry for that, sucker!” The rider laughs and roars off down the street.

Night falls and the country road is dark. The beam from the single head light reaches out in front to guide the way. The rider is engrossed in thoughts about the day and doesn’t hear the engine of a pickup truck speeding up behind him.

The crash can be heard for miles as the motorcycle rider is thrown several feet in the air as his motorcycle slides haphazardly down the pavement. The pickup truck flips and rolls several times off the side of the road.

An ambulance arrives and a Man steps out and looks about. The smell of spilled gasoline fills the air. He sees the overturned truck and sees the driver lying sprawled beneath the carnage. Kneeling down He reaches under the metal to try to pull the driver to safety, but the driver is dead.

He sees the motorcycle and finds the rider sprawled several feet away in the grass. He approaches and kneels down. The man groans and is barely alive.

“I’m here to help you,” the Man states.

The rider groans and asks in barely a whisper, “Am I going to die?”

The Man leans close so the rider can hear Him. “Yes, but you can live forever.”

“How?” the rider asks weakly.

“Ask Me to forgive you and be your Lord and Savior.”

The Man leans far down with His ear close to the rider’s mouth. The rider whispers so softly that the Man can barely hear him.

“I give you my life. Forgive me, Jesus.” His eyes slowly close and with one last breath he enters the kingdom of God.

(Sue’s version) Romans 10:13 – Romans 6:23 – 2Peter 3:9

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April 10, 2018

Pro-Choice Is No Choice

Inspirational Christian Blogs

I’m telling you, pro choice is no choice. Somebody says, “Well, now wait a minute. A woman’s body is her own body.” But we’re not talking about her body; we’re talking about the body of a little baby. Freedom of choice is not the freedom of choice to kill someone else.

“Well,” you say, “the baby lives inside the mother.” Suppose I have an unwanted guest in my home? Do I have the right to kill an unwanted guest in my home? Put it down big, put it down plain, put it down straight: no mother has the right to kill her children, no matter what kind of choice she says she has.

“Well,” you say, “it’s my own body.” But you really don’t even have that much right over your own body. For example, do you have the right to practice prostitution because it’s your own body? “It’s my…

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April 8, 2018

Is Anybody at Home?

The leaves have turned to their golden hues, the oranges are bright, the browns deep, and the yellow sends a subdued brilliance across the land. The sidewalks are cleared and the homes luxurious. The Man stops in front of the large home and stares at it’s magnificence.

He enters the open gate and slowly walks the long tree lined brick lain driveway to the front door and reaches for the gold plated door bell. He waits. There is no sound of foot steps so He presses the button again.

He waits.

The third time He presses the button He steps back and looks around. A large dog in the yard barrels around the corner barking furiously and bearing its large teeth. The Man smiles. There is no fear. The dog stops beside Him and wagging his tail licks the Man’s hand. No one comes to the door so the man pats the dog on the head and returns to the street.

As He walks slowly down the tree lined street He gazes at the beauty of the colorful trees and landscaping of the homes. He walks the long circular driveway of another home and steps up to the etched glass door and rings the doorbell.

He hears foot steps approaching and the door is cautiously opened slowly and a maid with her black uniform and white apron asks who He is and what He wants.

“I am the I Am.” the Man replies. “May I speak to the head of the household?”

The maid looks at Him curiously and replies, “Just a moment” and disappears behind the closed door.

The master of the house appears and with a smirk asks, “What can I do for you?”

The Man reaches His hand out to shake the owners hand but the owner just looks at the Man’s hand and doesn’t reciprocate. The Man nods and simply states, “I am the I Am. You need Me.”

Laughter fills the air as the owner stands with his hand on the door knob laughing as though he’s just been told a very funny joke.

The Man waits.

The laughter has turned to a snarl and the owner states emphatically, “Look around you! Look at this home! Do you see the Jaguar in the drive? Do you see all that I have accomplished; the big home, the beautiful car, the magnificent landscaping? You fool, I don’t need anything you are offering!” He steps back and slams the door in the Man’s face.

The Man moves on down the street and when receiving the same arrogant greeting at several of the homes He stops in front of a shack that the neighbors have tried to get condemned.

The grass is overgrown. Weeds line the partially collapsed fence. The shingles need repair, and one window is cracked and barely hanging onto the frame. He walks to the splintered, weather beaten wooden door being careful on the three broken steps and knocks loudly.

“Who is it?” is yelled from the other side.

“I am the I Am.” the Man states.

The door flings open on its rickety hinges. A woman rushes out to meet the Man. She’s dressed in a ragged dress, bare feet, and hair a mess. Her face is lined with life’s pressures and yet her eyes sparkle with tears of joy as she hugs the Man and states,  “Come in, come in. I just made some soup.”

The Man steps inside.

(Sue’s version) Proverbs 11:4, 18:11 – Rev. 3:20 – Matt. 7:7-8 – Luke 11: 9-10

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April 5, 2018

Death Had its Grip

The Man stands gazing out across the barren, dry parched desert floor.  A slight breeze kisses His sweaty neck and feels refreshing. He reaches back and lifts His hair up off His neck and gazes up at the sun.

He drops His hand and turns to gaze at the distant mountains. A vulture squawks as it circles above a short distance ahead. “Be gone!” the Man demands and the vulture flies off toward the mountains.

Walking in the direction where the vulture had hovered, He stops next to a desert shrub. The rattle of a rattle snake fills His ears and looking down he sees the snake coiled and ready to strike. He points His index finger purposely directly at the snake and says nothing. The snake suddenly uncoils and slithers off in the opposite direction.

Continuing ahead He sees what appears to be something lying on the desert floor. He can’t make out what it is at this distance but His Spirit tells Him that whatever it is needs help. He rushes across the hot cracked ground toward the object and upon arriving He sees it is a man lying face down.

Kneeling beside the man He places His hand on his neck and detects no pulse. The Man stands, looks toward heaven and prays. Sweat rolls down His back as He leans over the dead man and with all Authority given to Him by His Father He commands the man to rise.

The man lying on the ground takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back. His eyes slowly open and with blurred vision He sees the Man kneeling over him. He raises a hand above his eyes to block the suns glare.

The Man offers him a drink of water from His wine skin and the man greedily grabs it and begins to drink. “Go slow,” the Man tells the stranger. “What is your name?” He asks as the man takes another swallow of the water.

“Jethro.” The man answers. “Who are you?” He hands the wine skin back to the Man.

“I am the I Am.” The Man answers.

“Where am I am?” the man asks as he sits up straighter. His hands are scorched, his face sunburned, and sweat has soaked his clothes.

“You are in the desert of your life. You were lost but now you are found.”

The man looks around at the vast desert that surrounds him and states, “You saved me. How can I repay you? How did you find me?”

The Man looks at him intently and states emphatically, “I want your life!”

“What?! But you just…”

“Believe in Me and you shall be saved.”

(Sue’s version) John 11:26, 12:44, 14:1,   – Luke 15:4-7

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April 1, 2018

The Potter

As the sun rises announcing a new day to face, the screen door slams as her night guest slips out. Crushing the cigarette into the ashtray and shoving the now empty whiskey glasses aside, the woman shoves her chair back from the table in disgust. She glances around the garbage strewn kitchen and her eyes fill with tears.

Taking a deep breath she walks out to the old shed where her pottery tools lie covered in dust. The kiln sits in the corner with old rags piled high on it’s lid. Her work table has clumps of dried clay stuck to wood. Her potters wheel has cob webs intriguingly stretched across it.

Walking to the shelf she grabs a whisk broom and begins sweeping the cob webs with a vengeance while muttering to herself. She grabs a hand full of rags and furiously dusts off the work table, scraping at the old dried clay.

Once the cob webs are gone, the dust removed, and the rags put on the shelf,  she grabs a glob of clay and sits down on the rickety old chair. In almost a frenzied-like state she begins to shape the clay.

She pounds, she rolls, she furiously punches the gray clay and finally a large round ball is formed and with anger she carves out the face; the eyes with tear drops spilling down the gray cheeks. She smashes the nose and reforms it much smaller. The down cast mouth speaks of great pain and sorrow.

Poking and pulling on the clay she forms ears, then suddenly smashes them thinking they are too big. The clay face staring back at her is how she sees herself; lost, hopeless, no good, the lowest of lowest.

She doesn’t hear the squeaky door slowly open and a Man steps inside. He stands in the doorway with the sun radiating behind Him watching her. The woman raises her fist and with a loud vehement cry she smashes her fist into the clay figure she has formed.

Her head drops to her chest and her sobs rise from deep within her soul. The Man steps forward and places His hand on her shoulder. With great compassion He speaks softly, “I am the Potter and you are the clay. Here, let me show you.”

He gently pushes her aside and takes the seat. With hands of a Master He reforms the clay and in a short time the woman sees before her a new clay figure. The eyes are sparkling, the nose is pert with a smidgen of freckles, the mouth is full and smiling. Where there was a ghastly form of death, the clay figure is now filled with life.

The Man scoots the chair back, stands, and smiles at her. Tears are running freely down her cheeks as she stares at the clay form. The Man reaches out and gently runs His thumb across her tears, wiping them from her cheeks.

“I have come to give you life more abundant.” Pointing to the newly formed clay, He softly tells her. “Because you believe in Me you are a new creation.”

The woman throws herself into His arms and hugs Him tightly sobbing out all her hurt, all the pain life has thrown at her. His beard rubs her cheek and withdrawing from Him she places her hand on her cheek where His beard rubbed, savoring the lingering feeling.

She looks back at the clay form as she swipes at her tears and shakes her head in wonder. Turning back to face Him she softly states, “Only the True Potter could make something beautiful out of the mess I’ve made.”

He smiles, then quietly slips out into the new day.

(Sue’s version) Is. 64:8 and 2 Cor. 5:17

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