What Do You Do When Life Breaks You?

It was a hard year. Heart-stompin' hard.

A dream I nurtured for three years went up in flames. This hope wasn't a passing flight-of-fancy. It was a promise I fully believed was from the Lord.

Staying the course and believing for so long was exhausting. {And thrilling.} Yet in a flash my dream died. My heart was burned and the ashes seemed a proper place to fall.Sad and unresponsive to encouragement, I stayed there a long, long time. My hands {emptied of hope} filled with fists of ashes.

I knew I needed to get up; I just couldn't muster the elusive 'oomph' to do it. Grief was the only emotion that felt natural; comfortable.Yet I knew, wallowing in the embers would be the death of me as well. And here's the sweet thing: God knew this too. He unwaveringly kneeled next to me, extending a helping-hand up. He promised: This isn't the end. Give Me the ashes; I'll do something with them. Something beautiful.

He spoke this message in hundreds of ways. But it wasn't until He was silent that I heard Him at a concert.
It was barely noticeable. Permanently engraved on the my friends' blouse, the bold font contrasted with dark  ink, Beauty for ashes.

And there He was. This God of redemption and resurrection, speaking His timeless message once again. For me. For you. Give Me the ashes; I'll do something with them. Something beautiful.

That was several years ago. I'd love to tie this up with a pretty bow. Say that I unclenched my fists; gave God the soot. I cannot say it has been all that rosy since then.

I want to be real. And real is the fact that it's taken every day between then and now to see redeeming qualities from the heartbreak. To be honest, I still don't see much beauty from such devastation.But like I said, I want to be real. And real is also my commitment to God.

To take Him at His Word, despite circumstances.
To believe He a creative Creator.
To hope for what is unseen.

I'll continue to look for His goodness, even if it's from a pile of ashes. Because truly, the most beautiful thing these years and this pain have shown me is a faithful God. One who stands by. One who redeems - all things. One who creates masterpieces out of mud.

A God who took the most hopeless situation and the ultimate death ... and resurrected hope. Resurrected our Hope,Jesus. And there is the spark we need to light a new fire in us to Give Me the ashes; I'll do something with them. Something beautiful.

Something Else . . .

"The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see." {Hebrews 11:1} .Yes to getting out of the ashes, to hope, to beauty.

Look Through My eyes,Child.

"Define yourself through the hands and eyes of a true artist."

As I closed the door in a public restroom, that slogan caught my eyes. It was from an advertisement for a plastic surgeon. Reading those words, I knew this doctor was tapping into longings every woman has: to be beautiful, loved and accepted by others.

But for most women, this is not reality. We don't see our beauty or worth. We look in the mirror and only see faults. We allow others to define us.

Sometimes it is our culture. But often times it is the very people we love...our parents, a friend, or spouse. Their words deceive us into thinking we are unworthy...a failure as a woman and even as a child of God.
Yet God created us to be women of strength and beauty, each with a divine purpose planned by Him before we were born. God alone has the right to define us. No one else.

There is only One true artist and His name is God.

God is the Creator.

After reading that advertising slogan, I felt a burning desire to know a woman's true identity. The Truth I found in His Word was powerful and life changing. Rather than posting these truths on the back of a bathroom door, I wanted to share them with you.

You are:

• Created in the image of God. (Genesis 1:27)
• Fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)
• Precious and honored in His sight. (Isaiah 43:4)
• Redeemed and forgiven. (Ephesians 1:7)
• A new creature in Christ. (2 Corinthians 5:17)
• Holy and blameless before God. (Ephesians 1:4, 1 Corinthians 1:30)
• Chosen by God. (1 Peter 2:9)
• God's masterpiece. (Ephesians 2:10)
• Created with purpose to do great works for God's Kingdom. (Ephesians 2:10)

You are God's creation - beautiful, strong and created with a unique plan and purpose.

I don't want you to rest your head on a pillow tonight without knowing and believing who you are in Christ.

Frustration

You looked at me.

A bus careered through the station. The words, who until that point had been waiting patiently in line, were too close to the edge. Sucked into the air stream and crushed unceremoniously beneath the grinding, rubber wheels.

Now What.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You spoke to me.

I grasped at your words, snatching them from the balmy air, desperately trying to take them and assemble them for my own, personal use. But in the confusion they slipped through my fingers. Gone.

I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You touched my hand.

Hazy, shimmering shoals of adjectives swam into my consciousness. Excitedly, I caught one and held it close.

At last! But it wriggled free and shot off into the abyss.


I tried to explain, but I couldn’t.

You turned away.

Clarity came hurtling out of the darkness, crashing into my vocabulary with force of a Pacific tsunami. There were the words I’d been longing for, ready now, poised for action.

Thank you!

Too late.

I did try to explain, but I couldn’t.

Tear Drops of our Hero's

The tears were spilled by many, for it was a rainy 

November day, our soilder weeped as the rain has 

come, their muddy uniforms were clear with sorrow, 

their onimous tears droped with thundering views of 

horrible lives, the dead had come to be buried while 

the survivors darkened souls shake in their roots, the drops are from thy faces not the rain, so 

as the dead are being lowered in the ground, the soilders bowed for the fallen in spontaneous

 fashion, so the throbbing vein of sadness finally popped as a great man came up and said, the 

hero's didn't die in vain, they have fought in hero's spirit,with the least of ammunition,they 

have protected us,they have laid down their lives for us, so the life of holy spirits has been 

lifted to heaven instead of hell,

 So as my war is coming to a end, i say to the world 

today this is where the tear drops of hero's were shed,

 the soilders just clapped for their fellow heros, was 

just in tow for the memorial, when the rain had

 stopped and the sun shined on the graves, the hero's 

are in Gods hand.


"BARAGOI MASSACRE"

FATHER –SON RELATIONSHIP.

Let the elders who rule be counted worthy of double honour, especially those who labor in the word and doctrine.

1 Timothy 5:17

It is important to serve your spiritual father because as you serve, you receive a double portion. e.g. Elisha got a double portion after he faithfully served Elijah.

    

        Your vision is not complete until you serve another vision.

The qualities of a true son:

1.      A true son loves the visionary more that the vision. This means that you got to have a good relationship with your spiritual father and love him more than the vision he is carrying. By so doing it will be very easy to support his vision when you have genuine love towards him.

 

2.      A true son can fight for and cover their visionary with all they have. They are always prepared to die for  the cause of the  vision.

3.      A true son can distinguish between the visionary and the vision.
 
4.      A true son does not wish to replace their visionary. They are always ready to serve them and they give their visionary the respect and honour they deserve. They do not compete with the visionary nor do they correct and criticize their man of God.
 
5.      A true son serves with a true and pure heart. They do what they do with joy and without hypocrisy. This is because they know and love their visionary and therefore believe in their vision.
 
6.      A true son should defend their visionary and can defend them even when they are not there.
 
7.      A true son should stand as a sign board for the visionary i.e. character,integrity,dress code etc.
 
8.      A true son identifies him/herself with the vision both in winter or summer.
 
9.      A true son should do his/her duties even when they are not expected.
 
10.  A true son never gives anything to another ministry that they have never given to their spiritual father.

Sometimes you don't get the chance

I studied the world outside the frosted glass, hoping it would distract me from the wrapped present in my hands. The refrigerator hummed, the logs in the fireplace crackled as the heat deemed too much on the chunks of wood, and the rush of holiday traffic buzzed by in a hurried frenzy. Even with all that went on around me, the absolute stillness within the walls of my once home pierced my ears and rattled me to the core.

Don’t go there.

I brought my attention back to the present. I couldn’t imagine how someone got in to my house, but for some reason, I wasn’t concerned. I shrugged it off, imagining that it must’ve come from a friend from the past, trying to restore a breath of life back into me.

I glanced around the room and managed to crack a smile. It must’ve been strange to whoever left it, seeing my tree up – decorated. It was the only thing I still did at Christmas, a tradition too deep-seated to discontinue, no matter how difficult it was. It brought the smallest amount of joy back to me before reality would strike, giving me the stark realization that those memories, would never be lived out again.
The slender crimson paper-bow  slipped off the package. My fingers slid under the wrapping paper, removing the rectangular box. I hesitated and then lifted the lid. The tissue paper crinkled as I removed it, revealing what was inside.

My heart stopped.

My eyes darted around the room; sure that someone was in my house playing a cruel joke on me. I lifted the black beaded bracelet out which looked like an identical replica of the one Ian got me on our wedding day. I opened up the prayer box , only to discover the tiny slip of paper we wrote our names on before the ceremony. It was our handwriting.

It couldn’t be.

It was lost at the scene of the accident.

I went back and searched for it.

It wasn’t there.

I peered back into the box to find a piece of paper folded at the bottom. My hands trembled as I opened it. Gasping, I threw the paper and bracelet down, sobbing into my hands.

The memory.

The note.

The understanding.

It all hit me with the same force of the white Land-cruiser. The crushing feeling squeezed the air from my lungs as I relived the accident.

The headlights, too bright, coming straight toward us. My precious Sam(first-born) screaming from the back where he was strapped into his car seat. Ian’s arm extending out across my chest to brace me from the impact.

The sound of only one heart beat surviving the accident.

I picked up the note again. It was Ian’s handwriting.

We miss you and we love you. We can’t wait until the day we meet again.
Love,
Your Boys.
***