The Most Precious Book

This year, we’re not home to do our traditional Christmas morning but normally I pull out our old family Bible for devotional time. 

That Bible is falling apart. It’s held together with layers of tape so I keep it in my Grandmother’s cedar chest for safekeeping. 

I remember Mama telling me they bought it back in 1962 from a traveling salesman. They made $5 a month payments til it was paid off. 

It’s permanent place was atop an old antique mahogany library table in our living room, always opened to Luke chapter 2 during the Christmas season. Inside, a red velvet ribbon marker held the place. Over time, it’s disintegrated, but I hold tightly to the bits and pieces still hidden in my heart. 

Today, during our Christmas in the mountains, I can almost feel Mama and Daddy here.

I hope you have a special family tradition or memory that brings you joy today. Many blessings- Bonnie

The Magi

 

Every Christmas, they quietly show up on our mantels and front lawns—three finely dressed fellows riding camels, bearing gifts fit for a king. We call them the Wise Men. The Bible calls them Magi. And oh, how much deeper their story is than our neat little nativity scenes let on.

 

Long before they ever followed a star, wise men were known throughout Scripture as advisors to kings—men trained to study the skies, interpret dreams, read signs, and seek hidden meaning. 

 

In Genesis, Pharaoh called for his wise men and magicians when his troubling dream needed interpretation. In Exodus, another Pharaoh summoned wise men and sorcerers to try and duplicate the miracles God performed through Moses. In Esther, King Xerxes consulted his wise advisors to determine how to handle a defiant queen. And in Daniel, when the Babylonian king demanded the meaning of a terrifying dream, every wise man came up empty—until Daniel declared:

 

“No wise man, enchanter, magician, or diviner can explain to the king the mystery he has asked about, but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries.” (Daniel 2:27–28)

 

That line still gives me chills.

 

So when Matthew tells us that wise men came “from the East,” it doesn’t mean they packed up their camels and headed west from China, Japan, or Korea. In biblical times, “the East” pointed toward Persia, Babylon, or Arabia—lands rich in scholars, astronomers, and royal counselors. These were educated men. Influential men. Powerful men. And yet, they traveled hundreds of miles to bow before a child.

 

And here’s another detail we often overlook: The Bible says they entered the house and saw the child (Matthew 2:11)—not a stable, not a newborn in a manger. This tells us the Magi came later, likely when Jesus was a toddler. Herod’s dreadful order to kill all boys two years old and under confirms that timeline. The Wise Men didn’t arrive on Christmas night… but grace still led them right on time.

 

Now, we all grew up singing about “We Three Kings,” and I’ve sung it loud and proud myself—but truth be told, Scripture never tells us how many Magi there were. We assume three because of the three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But given their status and the dangers of travel, it’s very possible there was a whole caravan. Meaning—Mary may not have just greeted three men at her door… she may have seen a parade of foreigners coming to worship her Son. Now that would’ve made a good Southern woman drop her dish towel in surprise.

 

And that’s one of my favorite parts of this story.

 

Jesus wasn’t only worshiped by shepherds from nearby fields. He was worshiped by outsiders. Foreigners. Men from faraway lands with different accents, customs, and skin tones. Before Jesus ever preached a sermon, heaven already declared: This Savior is for the whole world.

 

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son…” (John 3:16)

 

The same God who used flawed kings, frightened prophets, reluctant servants, and wandering foreigners still delights in using unlikely people to accomplish eternal things. The Wise Men remind us that distance doesn’t disqualify devotion—and background never outruns grace.

 

They followed what little light they had… and it led them straight to the Light of the World.

 

And friend, isn’t that how it still works?

 

Heavenly Father, 

Thank You for the reminder that Your love reaches far beyond borders, backgrounds, and expectations. Thank You for the Wise Men—who followed a star and found a Savior. 

Help us to seek You with the same hunger, humility, and persistence. 

When we don’t have all the answers, teach us to follow the light You give. 

And may our hearts, like theirs, always be ready to bow before Jesus. 

In His holy name we pray, Amen.

Joseph

 

More thoughts on the Christmas story - today I'll focus on Joseph:

 

When we think about the Nativity, our hearts naturally go to Mary and the baby Jesus in the manger. Angels, shepherds, wise men, a star shining bright—there’s so much wonder in that holy night. And then there’s Joseph. Quiet, steady, faithful Joseph. The man who doesn’t say a word in Scripture, yet speaks volumes with his obedience.

 

Joseph was betrothed to a young girl named Mary. Their parents had likely arranged their marriage long ago—two families from the same small village where everyone knew everyone else’s business. You can almost imagine the hopeful conversations between the parents: dreams of a modest home filled with laughter, toddlers underfoot, and someday a house full of grandchildren to spoil. Everything was going just as planned… until it wasn’t.

 

Mary received a visit from the angel Gabriel and was told she would conceive a child by the power of the Holy Spirit. Try as she might to explain that to Joseph, you can only imagine what his heart must have felt when he discovered she was already expecting. Scripture says he was a righteous man, and because of that, he planned to divorce her quietly, not wanting to expose her to public shame (Matthew 1:19). According to the law in Deuteronomy 24:1, he had every legal right to do so. His heart was broken, but his character remained intact.

 

Then God stepped in.

 

An angel visited Joseph in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 1:20). In that moment, everything changed. Joseph woke up, and instead of walking away, he leaned in. He chose faith over fear. Trust over logic. Obedience over reputation.

 

And just like that, Joseph became the earthly father to the Son of God. No pressure at all, right?

 

Joseph’s role in the Nativity is often overlooked. He doesn’t deliver grand speeches. He doesn’t receive songs from angels. But he does something just as holy—he shows up. He leads Mary on a long, uncomfortable journey to Bethlehem. He searches for a safe place for her to give birth. He stands beside her when whispers begin to circulate. He protects her honor. He respects her purity. And when the time comes, he kneels beside a manger holding a baby he knows is not biologically his—but forever entrusted to him by God.

 

Joseph knew from the angel’s message that this child was the Savior of the world. Still, he never resisted his role as the earthly father. He didn’t argue. He didn’t demand explanations. He simply obeyed. He named the baby Jesus. He raised Him. He taught Him. He loved Him.

 

One of the most remarkable things about Joseph is that he never speaks a single recorded word in Scripture. Not one sentence. Not one question. Not even a whispered prayer that we can point to on the page. And yet, his faith is loud. His obedience is bold. His love is unmistakable.

 

Joseph didn’t need a microphone to make an eternal impact. He listened when God spoke. He moved when God directed. He stayed when others might have fled. In a world that often rewards the loudest voices, Joseph reminds us that some of the strongest faith is lived silently, steadily, and faithfully—one obedient step at a time.

 

And maybe that’s where many of us find ourselves too—serving behind the scenes, trusting God without all the answers, loving without recognition. Joseph shows us that God sees quiet faith. 

 

And He uses it to change the world.

 

Joseph reminds us that obedience often happens quietly. Faith doesn’t always wear a spotlight. Sometimes righteousness looks like doing hard things without applause. Sometimes it’s choosing God’s plan when it completely rearranges your own.

 

Joseph may not have received songs from angels while he was awake—but heaven surely took notice of the man who said yes when everything in his life suddenly changed.

 

And maybe that’s the lesson for us: God still works powerfully through people who are willing to trust Him—even when the dream looks nothing like what they expected.

 

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the quiet faith of Joseph—steady, obedient, and unshakably trusting. 

Thank You for showing us through his life that righteousness often looks like showing up, even when the road is hard and the plan feels uncertain. 

Help us to trust You when our dreams change, to obey You even when we don’t fully understand, and to protect what You have placed in our care with humility and courage. 

Teach us to walk by faith and not by sight, just as Joseph did. 

We place our lives, our families, and our future in Your loving hands.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

Mary

 

When I think about Mary, the mother of Jesus, I often picture her as a girl not much older than my youngest granddaughter—just twelve, standing right at the edge of womanhood but still tender, impressionable, and growing. 

 

Scripture doesn’t tell us what Mary was doing when the angel Gabriel appeared, but I imagine her in her parents’ home, helping with simple chores: sweeping a clay floor, dusting pottery jars, or preparing a meal alongside her mother. In those days, young girls were expected to participate in the daily rhythms of household life just as my own granddaughter does today. Perhaps Mary was doing something perfectly ordinary when heaven stepped into her day.

 

But the Bible leaves her activity a mystery. She may have been writing on a wax tablet or quietly resting after a morning’s work. What is certain is this: when Gabriel appeared, Mary was startled—but she didn’t flee, scream, or cower. She didn’t react the way many twelve-year-olds today might react—like my granddaughter surely would, who might let out a shriek, drop the broom, and race toward her mother’s arms. Instead, Mary paused. She listened. She absorbed the angel’s greeting:“Greetings, Mary. The Lord is with you. You are highly favored.”

 

And then came the message that would change history. Gabriel told her she would conceive and give birth to a Son—One who would be called the Son of the Most High. It is no wonder Mary asked, in innocent confusion, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” Gabriel answered her with a holy mystery:

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.”

— Luke 1:35

 

That word overshadow comes from the Greek episkiazo, a word associated with the shekinah glory of God Himself—the same glory that hovered over the waters of creation and filled the tabernacle. Imagine being twelve and hearing that God’s own presence would cover you. Imagine trying to understand something no one in human history had ever experienced.

 

And yet—Mary believed.

 

She trusted.

 

Her heart bowed long before her knees did.

 

I imagine her later, sitting quietly in a corner of her room, replaying the angel’s words. Wondering what she would tell her parents… what Joseph would think… whether anyone would believe her. A virgin birth had never occurred before—and would never occur again. But Mary’s faith was stronger than her fear. She knew the God who spoke through His messenger could be trusted.

 

I look at my granddaughter and imagine her hearing such news. How would she respond? Would she tremble? Would she hide? Would she run to her mama? The comparison only deepens my respect for Mary. At such a young age, she displayed a spiritual maturity far beyond her years—an openness to the will of God, even when it came wrapped in mystery and sacrifice.

 

Two people—Zechariah and Mary—received miraculous announcements from Gabriel. Both were promised sons. But their circumstances could not have been more different. Zechariah and Elizabeth, in their old age, would come together and conceive John the Baptist. Mary, untouched by Joseph, would be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and conceive the Savior of the world. Two miracles—one natural, one supernatural—both declaring the same truth:

 

Nothing is impossible with God.

 

Mary’s story invites us to trust the Lord even when we don’t understand His plans. She reminds us that God often steps into the everyday moments of our lives—into our sweeping, our cooking, our resting—and calls us to something bigger than we imagined. She reminds us that faith doesn’t depend on age, status, or understanding. It depends on willingness.

 

Like Mary, may we learn to say: “Be it unto me according to Your word.”

 

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the beautiful example of Mary—young, humble, willing, and full of faith. As we reflect on her courage and surrender, help us to cultivate that same trusting spirit in our own hearts. 

 

Teach us to listen for Your voice, even in ordinary moments, and to respond with obedience when You call.

 

Strengthen our faith to believe that nothing is impossible with You. 

 

Guard the hearts of the young ones in our lives, like my granddaughter, and guide them into a deeper understanding of Your love and purpose for them.

 

May we, like Mary, say with confidence, “Be it unto me according to Your word.”

 

In the precious name of Jesus, Amen.

Zechariah

 

There’s something wonderfully comforting about the story of Zechariah—this elderly, faithful priest who had spent a lifetime serving God, praying for a child, and probably long since assuming the answer was “No.” Yet God had a “Not yet” tucked away in His perfect timing.

 

One ordinary day in the temple, while Zechariah was burning incense, the angel Gabriel—God’s heavenly messenger specializing in dramatic entrances—appeared beside him. “Do not be afraid, Zechariah…” Gabriel said (Luke 1:13). That’s angel-speak for: You’re about to hear something unbelievable.

 

Zechariah was told that he and his wife Elizabeth—both well past the age of baby showers—would have a son, and not just any son. This child was handpicked by God to be the forerunner to the Messiah. His name was to be John, and he would “make ready a people prepared for the Lord” (Luke 1:17).

 

Zechariah, bless his heart, responded the way many of us would: “How can I be sure of this?” (Luke 1:18). In other words—Lord, I believe… sort of… maybe… could You show me something in writing?

Because of his unbelief, Gabriel struck him mute—possibly even deaf (Luke 1:62 hints strongly at this, since the crowd had to “make signs” to him). And so began nine months of holy silence.

 

Now imagine it: Zechariah at home, unable to speak, possibly unable to hear… and suddenly the house is filled with the joyful voices of not just one pregnant woman, but two—Elizabeth and her cousin Mary. (Scripture doesn’t say if he could listen in, but if he could? Oh, those conversations must have lasted hours. Cravings. Baby kicks. Miraculous conceptions. Divine destinies.)

 

I can almost see Zechariah sitting there, nodding politely, wishing he could add a comment… or escape to the quiet of the temple. And if he couldn’t hear? Then all he could do was watch—two glowing women exchanging wonder-filled, animated conversations while he sat silently in awe.

 

Either way, God had placed him in a season where the only thing he could do was observe, reflect, and wait.

 

And isn’t that exactly how the Lord works with us sometimes?

 

When our doubts speak too loudly, God lovingly invites us into silence—not as punishment, but preparation. Not to shame us, but to shape us.

 

On the eighth day, when it came time to circumcise the child, the relatives were ready to name him after his father. But Elizabeth insisted, “No, he is to be called John.” The crowd turned to Zechariah, waving their hands to get his attention: Surely YOU want the child named after you?!

 

Zechariah asked for a writing tablet and wrote with confidence:

“His name is John.” (Luke 1:63)

And with that act of obedience—faith finally stronger than doubt—his tongue was loosed.

He didn’t complain.

He didn’t clear his throat to say, “Finally!”

He didn’t ask what he’d missed.

He praised God.

Because when God fulfills a promise—especially one you thought was impossible—you don’t waste a moment on anything else.

 

The birth of John reminds us:

• God writes the last chapter, not our age or our circumstances.

• God answers prayers long after we think the window has closed.

• God can use our seasons of silence to strengthen our obedience.

• And God keeps His word—even when our faith wavers.

 

John grew into a bold, wilderness prophet who prepared the way for Jesus. And Zechariah, once doubtful, became a man whose first spoken words were a prophecy praising the God who turns impossibility into reality (Luke 1:67–79).

 

If God can bring a prophet from the barren womb of an elderly woman…

If He can transform a doubting priest into a praising one…

Then He can surely work miracles in our lives too—right in the places we’ve quietly given up hope.

 

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the story of Zechariah—a reminder that Your timing is perfect and Your promises stand firm, even when our faith feels fragile. Teach us to trust You in our seasons of silence. Help us to wait with expectant hearts, believing that You are working behind the scenes in ways we cannot yet see. Strengthen our obedience so that when You speak, we respond with faith, not fear. Just as You brought John into the world to prepare the way for Jesus, prepare our hearts to recognize, welcome, and praise the Savior who changes everything.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

More Than Beasts of Burdens

I’ve always had a soft spot for donkeys. I can’t remember exactly when it started, but I do remember the first one I ever saw. It was standing in the middle of a field surrounded by five or six horses. While the others grazed together, that poor donkey stood off to the side, looking like it had wandered into the wrong party. I remember thinking, “Well, bless his heart—he must be so lonely.”

As a little girl, I figured the farmer had accidentally bought a donkey when he really meant to buy another horse. Later in life, I learned that the donkey wasn’t there by mistake at all. Turns out, farmers know a thing or two.

Donkeys are protectors. They’re not nearly as fearful as horses, and when a coyote or some other predator comes prowling around, that little gray guardian will bray, bite, and kick until the threat hightails it out of there.

You’ve got to love that kind of grit in such an unassuming package. A donkey doesn’t have the sleek beauty of a horse or the elegance of a deer—but it’s got backbone, and I think that’s part of what makes it special.

Another thing I’ve always found fascinating is that donkeys carry a dark cross across their backs and shoulders. Some say it’s just the way the hair grows, but I’ve always liked the story that after Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, every donkey born after that carried the mark of that sacred moment. Whether that’s true or not, it’s still a beautiful reminder of humility and service—the very things the donkey represents.

The Bible mentions donkeys quite a bit, and every time I read about one, I can’t help but smile. Abraham loaded a donkey with the supplies for his journey of faith. Balaam’s donkey saw an angel when its master couldn’t, and after being beaten three times, that poor animal finally spoke up—literally! I’ve known a few people who could learn a thing or two from that donkey about seeing what others can’t and knowing when to speak.

And then, of course, there’s Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. He didn’t choose a chariot or a proud stallion. He chose a donkey—a symbol of peace. Kings rode horses into battle, but they rode donkeys when they came in peace. That says everything about the kind of King He is.

I suppose that’s why I’ve always admired donkeys. They may look plain, but they carry purpose. They don’t need fanfare or fancy saddles. They just quietly do their job—steady, dependable, and humble.

And maybe that’s what I want to be when people look at me someday—a little less like a show horse and a little more like a donkey. Faithful. Peaceful. Marked by the cross.

Heavenly Father, thank You for the lessons You tuck into the simplest of creatures. Help me to live like the donkey—faithful in service, steadfast in spirit, and willing to carry Your peace wherever You lead me. May others see the mark of the cross upon my life, not in words alone but in quiet acts of love and humility. Amen.

Random musings ©️ Bonnie Annis

The Most Important Possession I own

Gifts. I've never met anyone who didn't enjoy receiving one. For generations it's been customary to give gifts for special occasions. Most Americans give gifts for birthdays, anniversaries, and religious holidays. There's normally a lot of thought that goes into the gift giving process. One might consider a person's hobbies or interests as they choose a gift or perhaps a person has created a shareable wish list of items on Amazon or some other app. Sometimes, a gift is chosen merely because the giver thinks the receiver will enjoy it, and most times, the gift is given out of love instead of obligation. But have you ever given a gift to someone just because? Those types of gifts are so special and I'd like to tell you about one I received about 18 years ago. 

At that time, I was working for a mega church in Atlanta. As a member of the church's counseling team, I had the joy of combining my faith and work daily. Our department was fairly small and led by an ex-priest who'd converted to Christianity. It was a wonderful, tight knit group and we felt like family. We truly loved, appreciated, encouraged, and supported one another. Praying together at the start of each day and often in the middle of the day welded our hearts and grew our faith. As with many office staff groups, we'd do occasional lunches together, celebrate each other's birthdays, and whenever someone was going through a challenging time, we'd share tears. Over the many years I was there, we came to know each other extremely well. 

One day, one of the staff, a sister in Christ, called me into her office. I stood in front of her desk as she said, "I have a gift for you." A look of surprise must have spread across my face as she handed me a new hardcover Bible. At first, I wondered why she was giving me a new Bible. I had a whole collection of them including the first one I'd ever received as a child 59 years ago when I was baptized. She must have guessed what I was thinking and said, "This one is different. It incorporates more depth of meaning by adding both Hebrew and Greek to the translation." That peaked my interests. I didn't have an Amplified Bible in my collection. Graciously, I accepted the gift and went back to my office to open the book. I wanted to dig in and see what she was talking about. For over an hour, during slack time in my schedule, I read that new Bible. It was so different from the other translations I had in my collection and since that day, that specific Bible has become my favorite. 

I've used that specific Bible every single day for the past 18 years studying God's Word diligently. I've highlighted and underlined it, shed many tears onto the pages, recorded family deaths and births in it, packed notes into every margin inside it, and kept special mementos like drawings from my grandchildren, or pressed flowers inside it. In essence, it contains the story of my faith walk. I do use the other Bibles in my collection often, too, but they don't compare to this one. And if there were ever a fire in my home, that would be the one thing I'd grab as I dashed out the door. 

The Bible my friend gave me is all but falling apart now. I've taped it together over and over again but I still love it. One day, I hope one of my children will ask for it as I'm nearing my death and as they read through it, I hope they'll discover how God has been my constant Companion, my source of Strength, and my One True Love. 

Many people have Bibles sitting on their shelves. They don't pick them up and read them because they find the wording hard to understand and absorb. Some think the book is antiquated so they avoid it, but let me tell you, you'll never truly know God if you don't read the Bible. It's His love letter to us. It not only tells us Who He is, but shows us, through the various authors chosen by Him to write it for us, that He wants a personal relationship with us. 

How can you know a friend if you don't talk to them and allow them to talk to you? The Bible speaks. As we read it, our Spirit communes with the heart of God and He speaks to us.  

I'm so thankful my friend was generous enough to give me the gift of a new Bible that day. I'm sure she didn't think much about it. She was probably doing it to be nice and bless our friendship, but I'm so honored she chose me to be the recipient of such a perfect gift. 

Do you have Bibles just sitting somewhere in your home? Maybe you have a translation you don't feel comfortable reading and that's what keeps you away from it. If so, next time you visit a bookstore, look for one you like. There are so many available but I'd like to admonish you - be careful. Some are not accurate translations. Some are paraphrased. If you really want to dig in and get the meat off the bones, so to speak, try an Amplified version. I think you'll find, like I did, that it causes you to hunger for more. And that might just lead you to start doing word studies of both the Hebrew and the Greek. If you don't enjoy reading, there are many audio Bibles available. Whatever method you choose to study God's Word, make a point of doing it and do it daily. It will change your life, empower your walk as a believer, strengthen your faith, and draw you so much closer to God. And if you have a special occasion coming up, a Bible just might be the perfect gift.

 

Are you a season hopper?

 

Are you a season hopper? (I don't know if that's a real term, but it's one I made up for this post.) What's a season hopper, you may ask, I believe it's someone who lives from one season or holiday to the next. They get geared up for one and as soon as it passes, they're working on readying themselves for another. As they do, they often face a myriad of emotions. There's sadness at the passing of the last event and there's excitement or joy at the one coming. Why do we do this? 

 

I think commercialism has a lot to do with it. We are bombarded by "stuff" each time we shop. Take Hobby Lobby, for instance, it's one of my favorite stores but sometimes I don't like going in there. For example, on my most recent visit, all the Christmas items were on clearance and they already had Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day things out. Not only do I find all the seasonal items overwhelming, but sometimes I wonder why people feel compelled to buy those types of decorations every year. I'll admit, I used to do it, but not anymore. 

 

Before our last move, I took on a minimalist lifestyle. I gave away so many things it was unreal. And I didn't even realize how much I had to give away until I started doing it. What friends or family didn't want, I donated. Everything was in great shape, it's just I didn't want to feel encumbered by stuff anymore. But now that we're in our new home, I've noticed I'm accumulating again, little by little, my stuff is starting to regrow...

 

The Bible says in Matthew 6:19-21:

19 Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:

20 But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:

21 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

Those verses speak volumes and remind us that whatever people value most will guide their actions and capture their hearts. It's a promise and a warning that people's values and priorities have a powerful influence on their inner lives. 

 

I don't want to be a season hopper wanting or needing to "keep up with the Joneses." So, I've made a decision (and this goes along with my impression to begin living more frugally that I shared in an earlier post) I won't be buying any more seasonal holiday decor. If I don't already have it on hand and can't come up with a way to craft it on my own, using materials I already have on hand, then tough! I'm sure I'll manage to move right on by without regret. 

 

Last night, as we were sitting around the fire watching a movie, I glanced around the room. I'd already taken down the Christmas decorations and had put everything back in place. From our open floor plan, I could see the foyer, the living room, our informal dining room, and the kitchen. In those rooms alone was a lot of "stuff." I liked my "stuff" and felt I'd done a good job at decorating my home to be not only welcoming to friends and family, but pleasing to my husband and I. That's when the thought hit...what if Jesus came back that night? Would I miss one single thing in my house? No! And as I looked at our blazing fire in the fireplace, I thought of the people in California who've lost almost all of their material possessions - what if I'd been one of those people who had to flee my home or lose my life? Would I have grabbed something material in haste? Yes, I'd have to say yes. But the only thing I'd have wanted would have been my Bible. It's got years and years of notes in it and is full of a lifetime of tears. But if there hadn't been time, I'd have left it knowing I could buy another at some point. The only thing that would really matter to me would be that my husband and I were able to escape danger and still have our lives. 

 

Yes, the holiday/seasonal decorations are pretty. They do often bring happiness and joy, but when they become burdensome, they need to go. You don't need that "stuff" to look forward to change in your life. 

 

One last Scripture for you - Proverbs 17:22 says, "A merry heart does good like a medicine: but a broken spirit dries up the bones." Happiness doesn't come from outward things, it comes from an inner contentment with the Lord. And when you have that, joy overflows from your spirit. And you don't have to spend a dime for that.

Pencils or pens?

 

Pencils or pens? It all depends. If I want temporary, I'll use a pencil. If I'd rather have permanent, I'll use ink. Both writing utensils are wonderful to me because they allow me to express my thoughts anywhere, anytime. Of course, I love computers, too, but there's just something about writing out things by hand.

This morning, I was jotting down my to do list. I usually do that in pencil because I'll often want to add to or change something - you know, it's a woman's prerogative to changer her mind....right? And I do it all the time. But there's one thing that irks me - a dull pencil. I can't stand writing with an unsatisfactory nib.

Normally, I'll use a lead pencil. They're efficient and stay sharp for longer periods of time depending on the lead quality, put those old Ticonderoga pencils need to be sharpened often and I get tired of pulling out my little battery operated sharpener to tighten up the point. 

 

Remember those big, fat black pencils we had in elementary school? You know, the ones without erasers? I hated those. I wanted the ability to erase when I wanted to and I didn't like having to use those rectangular pink erasers we used to have. I still have one of those callouses on my middle finger from writing all these years, although it's not as prominent now as it was then. 

 

Then, we graduated to the thinner number 2 pencils - the yellow ones with the pink erasers attached to the top. I loved those, but again, would get irritated when the point got dull. Thankfully, our teachers allowed us to use those hand crank sharpeners affixed to the classroom wall as long as we raised our hands and asked permission first. They were fun to use. Turning that little knob round and round gave me pleasure but if I wasn't paying much attention, I'd sharpen too much and the point would break causing me to start all over again. 

 

Sharpness. Why do I find it so important with pencils and not so much with life? As I've grown older, my thinker doesn't work as well as it once did. It'd be nice to be able to slip it into a machine and grind it to a fine point and why is it that I can remember things 50 or 60 years back with such ease but not so much yesterday???

 

Iron sharpens iron, the Bible says so. I know it to be true because when my kitchen knives get dull, I pull out a sharpening steel and give the knives a few passes over it and then they're good as new. But what does the Bible mean when it says, "Iron sharpens iron?" Well, the entire verse is found the book of Proverbs 27, verse 17: “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” That means as believers, we can help sharpen each other by holding each other accountable, helping each other in times of need by offering love and encouragement, or reminding each other of important Biblical truths when one of us strays. 

 

Just like a pencil, we can get dull in our walk at times, that's why it's so important to fellowship with other believers - it's kind of like we're human sharpeners for each other. 

 

None of us are able to "stay on point" all the time without a little assistance. We're human. We stray. We don't always remember to lean into God. When we're weak in our faith or in our walk, we need to "rub up against" another believer who may be able to help sharpen us again.

Strange analogy, you may be thinking, but I believe we're like pencils in a lot of ways. We work pretty well for a time and then we begin to lose our edge. That's when we need a sharp blade to shave us into readiness again. 

 

These days we need to be sharp all the time, especially over the next few weeks, so pay attention! If your nib is dull, talk to another believer, ask for prayer. Let them point you to Biblical truths to help get you back on track. And for heaven's sake, don't forget it's okay to forgive yourself for mistakes now and then. Just like the pencil has an eraser, God allows us to mess up, ask for His help to get up, and He cleans it up allowing us to begin again! He never keeps records of our wrongs - remember, the Bible say, in Psalm 103, "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” But we have to be willing to ask. We can't scrub the paper as hard as we can with our eraser and rub out the screw up, it will just tear a hole in the paper! Only God can take our errors and correct them forever. 

 

Turn down the noise

 

Noise. It's everywhere, all the time it seems. And lately, it's been really getting on my nerves. 

From the time I get up in the morning, until the time I go to bed, there's a constant barrage of noise. My cell phone is pinging with notifications or ringing with calls. My appliances are dinging signaling the completion of wash cycles or reminding me to take something out of the microwave. And when my husband gets home, the TV is blaring. My senses are on overload. 

What I really want is to experience the sound of silence. 

Remember that old Simon and Garfunkel song, "The Sounds of Silence"? I loved that song. "Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again..." Yeh. 

It seems the only time I get complete and utter silence is when I'm in bed with ear plugs in (because my husband snores). And that silence I don't really get to enjoy to the fullest because I usually fall asleep. When I wake in the morning, the first sound I heard is the sound of birds chirping outside my window, but that's a sound I do enjoy so I won't complain about that one. 

Sometimes it's important to turn down the noise and sit in silence. When we do, we can hear the voice of God. 

I think that's one reason it's important to have a designated quiet area in my home. It's a place where I can separate myself from noise and distraction. It's nice to sit in that small room and read my Bible. As I focus on God's Word, He speaks very quietly to my heart. I enjoy those quiet times with Him and they're becoming more and more precious to me. 

Noise is stressful. Have you ever noticed how much louder commercials on TV are than the regular programs? They do it on purpose so you can still hear them even if you walk into another room. 

If you're like me and find yourself experiencing sensory overload, why not try turning off your phone, removing yourself to a quiet place, and allowing yourself the privilege of spending time with God? 

I've found He always redeems the time we spend with Him. 

Mark 6:31 says, "Jesus said to them, `Come away with me. Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest for a while.'" Jesus knew the value of breaking away from the daily demands of the people and noise. If He found it beneficial, don't you think we should too? 

 

Season of Rest

Have you ever felt God calling you into a season of rest? For the past several days, I've felt Him speaking to my spirit over and over again reminding me of the importance of resting.

For some time He's tried to teach me this lesson. I haven't learned it well. As a typical type A personality, I'm always going and doing. And after my cancer diagnosis, I really kicked it into high gear, feeling like I'd been given a second chance at life so I'd better not blow it. I wanted to make the most of every second of every day.

From the time I woke up in the morning until the end of the day, I was busy. I'd bounce from one project to the next, feeling like I was doing a great job at not wasting any of the time God had "reallocated" me. I was doing my best to live up to Erma Bombeck's famous quotation: "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'."

But soon, I began to feel overwhelmed and burdened. Yes, I was working hard doing things to be productive but there was something lacking.

When chronic insomnia began, I realized being unable to shut off my mind meant it was overstimulated. That's when I felt God nudging me to slow down.

So I tried. I tried limiting my projects. I tried sitting down to read for short periods during the day. I tried turning off notifications on my phone by using the do not disturb feature. I tried and tried and tried, but I wasn't resting.

My sweet husband did his best to encourage me to sit down and watch things on TV with him but I felt it was wasting time, so when I did sit to "watch" with him, I was also doing other things like small sewing projects or reading a book, or writing cards. I couldn't focus on one thing. I began to think I had ADHD.

"What was wrong with me?" I wondered. Something has to give.

So I prayed. I asked God to help me understand the importance of resting.

I looked up one Scripture after another on rest and found that every verse had one thing in common- going to Jesus. He wanted me to come to Him and allow Him to give me rest.

This morning, after doing my morning chores, I felt that still, small voice calling me - today you need to rest. And I wasn't feeling led to just rest physically, but mentally as well.

"Okay, Lord. I will try," I said. And then, I heard, "Don't try, do!" (in Yodaspeak because that's the way my brain works!)

I got a cup of cappuccino, grabbed my Bible, and headed out to the patio. While out there, wouldn't you know that God took me right to Jeremiah 31:25-

"For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish." Wow. That hit square between the eyes!

I prayed and asked God to help me learn to rest. And would you believe, I haven't done much of anything today? And I haven't felt guilty about it at all. That's huge for me.

The Bible says, "Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." If you are willing to admit it, I bet you fall into that category of being weary especially with all that's going on in the world right now. If not, that's wonderful, but more than likely there's something that's weighing you down or stressing you out.

Giving our burdens to God isn't always easy, but He wants us to let Him handle them. I'm preaching to the choir right now, but I hope you'll hear me, too.

If you struggle to rest, listen...the word rest means to cease striving. CEASE. That means stop right now! Learn to just be and know that it's okay to have a chill day. I'm learning and I'm finding it's pretty enjoyable.

Rest and be refreshed. It's good for your body, mind, and spirit.

Her name was Rain

I stood in line to checkout, balancing packages and waiting my turn. As the line moved forward, I greeted the cashier with a hearty, “Good afternoon.” She responded with a grunt and that’s when I noticed her face studded with metal. Trying not to judge, I wondered why she’d chosen so many piercings.

 
She rang up my items one by one as I tried hard to think of things to talk with her about. My eye caught her name tag. It said her name was Rain. Interesting, I thought. This woman looked to be about 25. I didn’t think her parents were from my generation, so I asked about her name. “I like your name,” I began, “It’s so different. May I ask if it’s your first name or your middle name?” She looked up from bagging and said, “It’s not my name, it’s just one I identify with. My name is Kate.”

I became quiet for a moment, not knowing how to respond. I’d never encountered someone who’d chosen a name purely on its merits.

 
She continued working and I watched her countenance. I could tell, by her facial expressions as by her mannerisms, she didn’t enjoy her job and didn’t want to be there.

 
Trying my best to be cordial and kind, I offered to help her bag. She appreciated the offer and said she hated fighting with them. For several minutes I continued to watch her as I bagged my purchases.
Rain. She was definitely not a gentle, soft one. No, she was more of a brewing storm. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the Holy Spirit spoke to me, “Be gentle, she’s been wounded.” That’s when it clicked- all the piercings, the attitude, the demeanor/ they were all a hard, protective shell. I was sure, somewhere underneath, was a soft, moldable little girl yearning for love.

 
Thanking Rain for her help, I leaned forward and lightly touched her hand. Our eyes met for a brief second and I said, “It’ll be ok. He sees you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. The next customer pushed forward, and I moved out of cue making a mental note to pray daily for Rain/Kate.

 
In the next few days, I’ll stop back in and visit Rain. This next time, I’m hoping to plant seeds of hope.
I was reminded we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. We need to see not only with our eyes but with our heart. There are so many walking wounded among us. They need Jesus. They may not even know it, but they do. It’s our job to offer them small doses whenever we can.

 
“I planted the seed,Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So, neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. For we are co-workers in God’s service; you are God’s field, God’s building.” 1 Corinthians 3:6-9

A valuable object lesson

This morning, while on the phone with my youngest daughter, I decided I'd get a headstart on dinner. During the summer, I like to make use of my crockpot because it's too hot to stand over the stove and cook. As I was digging through our big chest freezer, I pulled out a package of ground beef. Noticing the date on it, September 2021, I asked if she thought it would still be good. I could tell by the silence on the other end of the phone she was busy Googling an answer. A few minutes later, she responded, "If the meat has been kept at zero or below, it will be fine. What temperature is your freezer set to?" I had no idea. She then asked me to look for the thermostat. Assuming it would be near the top back of the freezer, or along one of the sides, I began moving things around. All of a sudden, I had an avalanche of cold meats falling on my head! I picked them up as quickly as possible and put them all back into place on the top shelf, the shelf I'd designated for meats since it was closest to the vents that blow out the cold air. "I don't think it has one," I said to her. "Yes, it does," she said, "all freezers have a thermostat." 

I was so frustrated. I'd looked in the freezer and couldn't find a thermostat. Since I'm so short, I decided to go into the house and get a stepstool. As soon as I had it in hand, I went back to the freezer to look again. 

Since I'd already checked the top shelf, I moved to the second one. Moving frozen fruits and veggies, I found nothing. My daughter was still on the phone with me and encouraged me to check the door, perhaps there was one there. Nope. Nothing. 

It was cold standing in front of the freezer. I was worried about keeping the door open long since the warm air from the garage would put the food at jeopardy. Closing the door again, I went inside and searched through my appliance manuals until I found the one for the freezer. There was nothing helpful in there! 

My sweet girl asked me for the freezer model number. She was going to look up information on line. I couldn't find anything on the paper manual so I went back to the freezer to see if I could find one. That's when I got the brilliant idea to start at the bottom and work my way up. 

Moving frozen breads around, I looked at the very back of the bottom shelf of the freezer. Nothing! Now I was really getting frustrated! This was a name brand appliance, a good quality item, surely there had to be a serial number inside and surely there had to be a thermostat!

I got down on my knees and started moving things from the next shelf. Frozen Chinese entrees and convenience foods began to tumble into my lap. Holding the cold things, I continued to look. When I'd moved the last item on that shelf, way back in the back right hand corner, I could see a dial! Oh, thank the Lord! I quickly flipped on my cellphone light and shone it on the dial. Sure enough, there was a thermostat! My daughter said, "What's it set on, Mom?" I looked and saw that the dial was set on 4. Yikes! The dial only went up to 9 with 8 and 9 being marked as the coldest range. Turning the dial up to 7.5, I felt better. I wondered why I'd never thought to check the thermostat before? We'd had this appliance for 8 years!

After I'd come inside with my ground beef and slipped it into the microwave for defrosting, some verses of Scripture came to mind: "You search the Scriptures, for in them you think you have everlasting life; and these are they that bear witness about Me. “Yet you do not want to come to Me, that you may have life." John 5:39-40. Why did those verses pop into my head? I guess because I'd been searching for something that was in plain sight. 

I kept thinking about the verses and realized in Bible times, the disciples didn't have the New Testament. All they had was the Old Testament so even though they didn't have the writings telling about Jesus' life and miracles, they knew about the prophesied Messiah. Though Jesus spoke to the common people in parables, He had given His disciples the ability to understand His teachings, but often, they still were baffled at times requiring Him to go into a deeper explanation. Jesus was right there among them and still at times they didn't get it! Wow! Just like the freezer thermostat was there all along, I just didn't see it. 

Jesus doesn't hide himself from us. He wants us to know Him. 

Jeremiah 29:13 says, "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." 

The obscure thermostat brought peace of mind when I found it. Knowing I could control the temperature and keep our foods safe for long periods of time was comforting, but even more so was knowing that God used that object lesson to remind me to always keep my eyes fixed on Him. I hope you'll choose to seek Him daily and allow Him to use some of life's little frustrations to remind you that He sees and cares about you, because He really does!

Modern Day Leper

Yesterday we had a new dishwasher installed. The man who came to do it was fast and efficient. We did our best to make him feel welcome in our home, talking to him about various and sundry things as he worked, but we could tell he was uncomfortable. He wore a mask and gloves - of course we knew it was due to Covid concerns, but it seemed so unnecessary. 

When he finished his work, we thanked him and I offered a gift of gratitude. Though he accepted my gift, he made sure my hand never touched his gloved one. When I stuck out my hand in thanks, he thrust his elbow at me. "Oh," I said, "I get it. Covid. Okay." With that, I gave him the acceptable elbow bump and he was on his way. 

I felt like a leper. 

I don't do well with rejection. It's been a thing since childhood. Rejection hurts, no matter how large or small it may be. 

Thinking about the worker's fear of contracting a disease from us made me feel sorry for him. I understood it and respected it, but wished he'd been more open to our hospitality. 

That led me to think back to Biblical days, where true lepers existed. Back then, leprosy was considered not only a health risk but a curse for some unconfessed sin. People with leprosy were considered outcasts and forced to live away from society. Alone and abandoned, these people suffered terribly. Their skin condition caused all sorts of problems as it disfigured their body but the emotional toil must have been much greater. 

I've seen movies on the Bible where lepers entering a town had to call out, "UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN." Their warning was meant to keep healthy individuals away. How painful that must have been for them, to not only suffer physical maladies but to suffer social anguish, too. 

Lepers still exist in the world today. In Africa, Asia, and other parts of the world, there are colonies of lepers living together. Many organizations work to help them receive medication and treatment for their disease, but still, the stigma of uncleanness follows them. 

I've often wondered what it would have been like to have lived in Bible times. With my heart of mercy, how would I have responded to a neighbor or friend with leprosy? Would I have shunned them or tried to help them? I'd like to believe I would have done whatever necessary to give them aid. 

I find it interesting that Jesus healed many with leprosy. He never condemned them, but had compassion on them. 

Can you imagine what it felt like for the leprous man to call out to Jesus asking for healing the one fateful day their paths crossed? He called out to Jesus saying, "Lord, if you're willing, you can make me clean." That man had big faith. He knew Jesus had the power to heal him and he wanted to be healed. 

Jesus could have just said, "Go, your faith has made you clean." But He didn't. Instead, He reached out and touched the man saying, "I am willing, be clean."

That touch...that marvelous touch must have lingered on the leper's arm for days afterward. How long had it been since anyone had touched his scarred and damaged skin? 

Can't you just imagine the power of Jesus' love flowing into the man's body as His fingers graced the man's skin? I can! I'm sure it was electrifying! Instantly, the broken man was whole. 

That's the kind of compassion Jesus has for you and me. He meets us in our brokenness and makes us whole again. He understands our struggles, our fears, our weaknesses and offers us His love, mercy, and grace in their place. 

I'm so thankful we have a Savior who sees us and cares deeply for us. He wants us to be whole. He doesn't force Himself on us, instead, He waits for us to approach. When we do, we must do so with boldness and confidence knowing He not only wants to help, He will help, for He is the lover of our soul. 

When Jesus commanded the leper to be clean, He didn't only cleanse the outside of the man's body. He also cleaned the inside. What joy the leper must have felt to have finally been made whole again! He was restored, set free, loved and accepted. The Savior had seen him, heard and honored his request, and he would never be called UNCLEAN again. 

A divine appointment

We'd just walked into Walmart on the coldest day of the year. There were no shopping carts in the corral, so Phil volunteered to go outside and get one. I moved deeper into the store, away from the cold blast of air that came in each time the automatic door opened and found myself standing near a growing stack of Coca Cola products. I watched as a young black man lifted and stacked cases one on top of another. After a few minutes, I felt the prompting of the Holy Spirit. "Talk to him about me."

So, I walked over to the man and said, "That's the best song ever, isn't it?" Before he could answer, I noticed he had earbuds in his ears and wondered if he'd heard my question. Pulling one out he said, "Yeh." And I continued, "Don't you just love Dobie Gray's, Drift Away?" Day after day, I'm more confused... the music played on as I talked to the young man. I was thankful I had his attention. He stopped working and listened as I said, "Can I ask you a question?" He answered, "Sure, Ma'am." I said, "How can I pray for you today?" I could see him take a step back and slightly hesitate before answering. He said, "Wow. Just wow. I don't believe it." I asked what he didn't believe and he said, "I was just having a moment and then you came up." I asked his name and he said, "Howard." I said, "Howard, my name is Bonnie. Let's step over here and I'm going to pray for you." I took his arm and we moved to the side of the cases of cola, out of the line of foot traffic entering the store. Bowing my head, I began to pray. 

I don't know how long we stood there and I can't remember exactly what I said. I know the Holy Spirit was giving me the words and Howard was listening. When I ended the prayer, I looked up and Howard's eyes were filled with tears. I told him that God cared about him and He planned our meeting on this day. Howard agreed that God had brought us together. I wished him well and turned to see my husband standing there with the cart. As we moved toward the produce, I turned to smile and wave goodbye to Howard. 

Moving up and down the aisles, we gathered various grocery items packing our cart to the brim. As we pulled onto the aisle with cases of water, there was Howard again. I smiled a big smile, pointed, and said, "HEY! We've got to stop meeting like this." He smiled a huge smile and said, "I knew I'd see you again." I walked closer to him and he said, "Can I have a hug?" I gave him a big bear hug and turned to walk away but remembered something in my purse. Reaching inside, I pulled out a small, leather CWT New Testament I'd been given many years earlier when I was part of the Christian Witnessing Training program. I'd cherished that slimline Bible and loved that it fit so neatly in my purse, but at that very moment, I felt like I was supposed to give it to Howard. 

Turning to John 14, I slipped the book marker in place and handed it to him. I asked him to read John 14 and 15 when he had time. I told him I'd marked it for him and though the Bible was in the King James translation, I told him God would help him understand it. Before I left, I read him verse 1 of chapter 14 aloud, "Do not let your hearts be troubled, you believe in God, believe also in Me." Howard looked stunned and said, "Wow" again. Digging through my purse, I tried to find a pen. I wanted to inscribe something in the Bible for Howard but couldn't find one. I was frustrated. I always have a pen in my purse because I'm always writing, but for some reason, today, I didn't have one. 

I asked Phil if he'd mind running over to the school supply area and picking up a pen for me. I assumed I'd see Howard again before we left the store and then I'd have a chance to inscribe the Bible for him. While Phil went to get the pen, I continued shopping. 

Fifteen or so minutes passed before we crossed paths with Howard again. This time, he spoke first, "I knew I'd see you one more time before you left the store!" He sounded excited and happy. I grinned at him and said, " I want to write something in your Bible for you." He handed it to me and I wrote a sweet sentiment for him. As I handed the book back to him, he said, "I'll never forget this day." 

We didn't see Howard again as we made our way to the front of the store to check out, but I prayed our conversation blessed him. I don't know why God allowed our paths to cross but I could tell that Howard was struggling. 

Over the years, I've learned to stop and obey when the Holy Spirit speaks to my heart and prompts me to witness to someone. In those times, I've come to the realization that I was not only giving, but receiving a blessing. 

I could have pretended not to hear the Holy Spirit's voice when He said, "Tell him about me." I could have kept walking past the young black man stacking boxes. I could have never looked him in the eyes or spoken a word to him and he would have kept on working - nothing about his day being different in any way. But God. God wanted me to have a close encounter. He wanted me to SEE Howard. He wanted me to care about Howard's needs. He wanted me to share some of Christ's love with Howard. 

I have no idea what Howard was dealing with. He didn't share a lot of detail about his life. Even though I don't know his needs, God does, and when we were praying, I asked God to meet each of Howard's needs in a very special way so I'm sure He will. 

I told Howard I wanted to see him in heaven and I sure hope I'll get to see him there one day. There are so many people living their lives in a state of confusion, especially in these rocky times in our world. It seems we're all sort of drifting away, but we don't have to. Those of us who know the truth of God's Word have to be ready to share the hope of our future with others. We have to give them something to cling to - the one and only something- Someone who matters - Jesus. 

If you ever hear a tiny whisper in the back of your mind that says, "Tell them about me.." Do it! God will use your obedience and He will bless it. I know. He's done it over and over again for me. 

The Snow is gone

We had a lovely snow yesterday. Although we didn't get as much as we expected, it was nice to see the soft, powdery flakes fall. Watching the snow come down was so peaceful. At times it was slow and steady. other times, there was barely any. As I watched it, I was reminded of verses from the Bible that speak about snow. (Those who know me well know I relate everything in life to Scripture. I can't help it. The Bible is my textbook and Jesus is my life.) 

A favorite verse about snow is found in the book of Psalms, chapter 51. If you're familiar with that chapter, you know it's about David feeling remorseful for his recent indiscretion with Bathsheba, Uriah the Hittite's wife. When David sinned, he knew what he was doing wrong, but did it anyway. After the dastardly deed was done, David, a man after God's own heart, knew He needed to make things right. His relationship with God had been broken so He asked God to purify him. In verse 7 he says, "Purify me with hyssop, and I will be clean; Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." 

In Biblical times, hyssop, an herb similar to species of marjoram, grew in rocky crevices or stone walls. (I had a chance to see it while in Israel as I stood in front of the retaining wall of the Temple. I've attached some photos for your perusal.) The short, brushy stems were gathered into bunches and used in purification rituals. 

Hyssop is mentioned eleven times in the Bible, nine times in the Old Testament and twice in the New Testament. The most memorable reference can be found in John 19:29, when Jesus was given vinegar in a sponge attached to a branch of hyssop. It was also used to spread blood on the lintels and doorposts as the death angel passed. (The Israelites were told to stay in their homes and the sacrificial blood would protect them.) The biblical use of hyssop gives us a clear picture of the washing, cleansing, and saving that can only come from eternal God and this is the kind of cleansing David requested.

The snow David mentions would have been pure and bright, symbolic of an untouched snowfall. His desire was to be completely and utterly clean. 

In verse 10, the psalmist says, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right and steadfast spirit within me." Not only did David want to be completely purified and washed clean, but he also wanted it to stick. He wanted a life changing cleanliness. 

We all want that don't we? Just like the lovely snow we had yesterday, I can completely understand David's desire. We all fight our flesh on a daily basis and when we're walking in our flesh, that ugliness of it is unChristlike. 

I'm thankful God is in the business of restoration! I think He takes great delight in cleaning up our messes when we make them. The power of sin is strong and that's why we must put on our armor every single day. Never forget to guard your heart, guard your mind and guard your eyes, that way, you'll be doing what you can to maintain your purity. And in the event you slip, know that your Heavenly Father is faithful! He's always ready to forgive our sin if we'll ask with a repentant heart. "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9)

7 Years is a Long Time to be Cancer Free

Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Stage 2B with Metastasis to the lymph glands. When I heard the words, 2 jumped out at me – carcinoma and metastasis. I knew those words and knew they were bad. I didn’t pay much attention to the stage or the type of cancer. The only thing that concerned me was whether I was going to live or die. 

The first year was tough. Being thrust into the world of breast cancer is challenging. There were so many experiences I never dreamed I’d face, from surgery to treatment and then, learning to live life after those were through. 

It took time to learn to cope. Most days, I felt alone and helpless like I’d gone to sleep and had woken up in a bad dream, a dream that seemed as if it would never end. But as I fought through each challenge that came my way, I found myself becoming stronger. I was determined to live, no matter what the cost.

 As a person of faith, I found myself relying on God for each minute of the day. Whenever I was discouraged, felt unlovely, or like I didn’t matter, I turned to the Bible and found solace there. 

My family and friends were also a source of strength. They offered their love and understanding when I needed it most. Without them, I don’t think I would have made it. 

Learning to live as a breastless woman, I had to conquer the feelings of self-loathing and learn to extend myself grace. When I finally learned to accept my appearance, I found others did, too. 

I look back now and it seems a lifetime ago that my life was turned upside down, but it’s only been 7 years. 

 Seven, in Biblical gematria (the study of the significance of the usage of numbers in Scripture) has great significance. It’s the number of completion. That makes this cancerversary ominous for me. With cancer, a fear of recurrence is normal, but sometimes, especially in instances like this, the fear seems to loom and a sense of foreboding engulfs me. 

 I wonder how to shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, my time of being cancer free is over. I can’t help but question, what I’d do if the cancer returned. 

I’d like to hope I’d fight with the same determination and resilience I did when I was first diagnosed but it might come back with a vengeance. If that happened, I might choose to do chemotherapy instead of refusing it, like I did 7 years ago. I might choose to take drastic measures to fight the cancer, instead of doing everything I could to fight it naturally like I’ve been doing for the past 7 years, or maybe not. Perhaps I’d just give in and give up…who knows. 

I don’t like to wonder and worry about something over which I have no control. That’s no way to live! I think I’ll make a conscious effort to stay in the zone of positivity. If I’ve survived for the past 7 years, chances are, the cancer won’t return. More than likely, at the age of 63, I’ll die of something else, right? And then I think of my dear friend who also suffered from breast cancer. She was diagnosed over 22 years ago and then, when she least expected it, her cancer returned and took her life. When that happened, I was devastated and even more afraid than ever. But if you give fear the power, you lose. 

Once I read an acronym for the word fear. It said, “Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real. And that’s the truth, isn’t it? Fear causes us to accept the thing that appears to be true even if there’s no substantial evidence to prove otherwise. 

I can’t live that way. 

So today, and every day forward, no matter how many days I have left, I choose to live like it could be the last day of my life. None of us are ever promised tomorrow anyway. And if we choose to live like we’re dying, the choices we make will be profound.

I am not going to let go of my survivorship crown, the one I’ve been wearing for the past 7 years. I earned it and I’m going to trust God to give me many more years of life to live, love, and enjoy.

This survivor is grateful for every minute of life and I won’t let fear scare me any longer. I. AM. A. SURVIVOR, today and forever. 

Amen.