[L]et us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

Last Saturday was the culmination of a month of festivities in our new home town. The Kentucky Derby is for many Louisvillians the most exciting two minutes of the year, and Marty and I were privileged to witness it live from one of the many parties that day.

Tom and Julia have been throwing Derby parties for over twenty years, so it’s a special tradition for friends and neighbors, who arrive with hats and “fascinators” on their heads, dishes to share in their hands, and dollar bills for “betting” in their pockets.

I couldn’t have named one horse in the race before we got there, but it didn’t matter. To make the race more interesting, we all drew names out of an envelope so we would have a horse to root for.

When it was time for the big race, the guests gathered around the TVs in the living room, den, and patio. The bugle sounded, the band played Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home,” and the horses were led out onto the track in front of 150,000 cheering fans. The sunshine, the bright colors, the music created a solemn but festive mood, and we recognized among the throngs of ordinary people some celebrities who had come to Churchill Downs to see and be seen. We had only lived in Louisville for a few years and weren’t exactly life-long Derby fans. Still, having the name of a horse in my hand and being included in the event, I was starting to get into the spirit.

When the starting gun went off and the horses shot out of the gate, the roar of the crowd at the track was joined by fans in the living room, the dining room, and the patio. I knew that all over the world, on countless televisions, laptops, and phones, millions of eyes were fixed on the horses thundering down the track.

Just then, an unexpected wave of emotion came over me; I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. (The more pragmatic side of me thought, What the heck…???) Suddenly I felt for the jockeys hanging on and urging their horses forward and for the beautiful creatures that were running their hearts out toward the finish line.

The cheering that came from all directions grew louder as the finish line came into view, and one horse that had not been expected to do that well came around the outside and passed the one in the lead just in time to take the prize! The cheering reached a crescendo, and I sat there in tears, realizing that I had not been watching a horserace but an object lesson from God, a reminder to encourage me.

The author of the book of Hebrews wrote out a list of great people of faith in Chapter 11, which some call “the Faith Hall of Fame” – Noah, Abraham, Moses, David, and others, whose lives were filled with miracles and whose stories made it into the Scriptures. (Hebrews 11:33-35a)

The passage also commended others, whose names are unknown in the world but known to God. These were tortured, jeered at, destitute, persecuted, imprisoned, and put to death. (“The world was not worthy of them.” – vs 38a) I have always found those verses comforting, knowing that just because I’m not a spiritual “celebrity” and my prayers haven’t always produced miracles doesn’t mean I’m not a child of God or that I am not serving Him well.

But it’s the opening verse of the next chapter that came rushing back into my spirit so unexpectedly that afternoon.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. – Hebrews 12:1

For every one of us who believe in Jesus, we are also in a race, and it can be grueling. I know from experience that sometimes I can feel as though I am struggling on my own to just get through the week, the day, or the hour. You might feel that way, too.

You might be reading this in a hospital room. Maybe visiting hours are over, the floor is quiet, and you feel everyone in the world is asleep except you.

You might be experiencing unspeakable grief, so horrendous that people don’t know what to say to you, so they say nothing, and you’re left feeling utterly alone.

You might be the only Christian in your family, or in your class at school, or in your workplace. Every day seems like a swim against the current, and the enemy might be whispering to you, You’ve done your best, now it’s time to give up.

Or you might just be at a party, where everyone around you is going wild over two minutes of watching horses run. And then, out of nowhere, there’s a reminder…

We are surrounded by a “cloud of witnesses.” – Not just 150,000 in the stands, but millions upon millions who have gone before us. Not just the spiritual “celebrities,” but also countless ordinary people who served an extraordinary God, along with a myriad of angels, reminding us,

“You’re not alone!”

Can you hear them cheering us on? Perhaps not, but they are! They are rooting for us, encouraging us not to give up, and constantly declaring, reminding us,

“Don’t give up! He is worthy! He is sufficient! He is faithful!” This is what I was “hearing” from God, and when the race was over, I looked down and saw that the Lord had added an exclamation point.

I had the name of the winning horse in my hand.

Prayer: Father, Thank You for Your promise that we are never alone. Thank You for the cloud of witnesses that have gone before us, who can attest to Your faithfulness. Help us take hold of that reality and live our lives accordingly, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

And this is my prayer … Philippians 1:9

As I may have mentioned, I love to pray Scripture. I know Scripture is true (correctly translated and in context!), and in rightly handling the Word of God, we can pray powerfully.

One morning I was reviewing the book of Philippians, which I had memorized some years ago during the Scripture memory season of my life. (How that came about is another story for another day.) Today I was off to a late start, thanks to a distractible mind and lack of discipline on my part. (Not unusual – thank God for grace.) Torn between reading my Bible and praying (I didn’t have a lot of time to do both.), ever the multitasker (*eye roll*), I found myself doing both.

Making my way through the first two chapters of Philippians, this was my prayer:

Lord, I come to You as Your servant through Jesus Christ. Thank You for Your grace and peace. I know that You have begun a good work in me, and I’m confident that You will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ.

Thank You for those who have been partners with me in the gospel from the first day until now, who have shared in Your grace with me and given me so much joy. May our love abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that we may discern what is right and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of You.

Whatever happens to me, I pray that it will serve to advance the gospel. Even in suffering, let it be clear that my suffering is for You. May those who love You be encouraged through me to be more courageous and fearless as they speak Your Word.

It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of good will. Thank You for the latter, who do so in love. As for those who preach out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, Lord, You are the Judge. Even if their intention is to stir up trouble, help me still to rejoice that Your Word is being preached!

Help me to believe that everything that happens to me will turn out for my deliverance, with the help of Your Spirit and the prayers of others. May I in no way be ashamed, but have sufficient courage, so that now and always, Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. Thank You for reminding me that to live is Christ, and to die is gain! If I continue on in this body, let my labor be fruitful. I confess I am torn between the two. I desire to depart and be with You, which is (will be) better by far. But if it is necessary for others that I remain and continue with them for their progress and joy in the faith, I know that I will remain. May others’ joy in Christ Jesus overflow on account of me!

Thank You for the encouragement from being united with Christ, the comfort of His love, the fellowship of the Spirit, and the tenderness and compassion of Your people. May we always be like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.

Whatever happens, help me to conduct myself in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Help all of us to stand firm in one spirit, contending as one man for the faith of the gospel, without being frightened in any way by those who oppose us. Let that be a sign to them that they are going to be destroyed (and may they repent!), but that we will be saved by You. I know it has been granted to us on behalf of Christ not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him, since what we go through has been experienced by other saints who have gone before us.

Help me to do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but to consider others better than myself. Help me not to look only to my own interests but also the interests of others. Give me the attitude of Christ Jesus, who did not grasp His divinity but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant in human likeness. Let me be inspired by His humility and obedience, even to death on a cross! Keep me mindful that His is the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess that He is Lord. To Him and to You, Father, be glory!

Help me to continue to work out my salvation with fear and trembling, knowing it is You at work in me to will and to act according to Your good purpose. Help me to do everything without complaining or arguing, so that I may become blameless and pure, a child of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation. Let all of Your people shine like stars in the universe as we hold out the word of life! Even if we are poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service of our faith, may we rejoice and be glad, in Jesus’ name.

Amen

[The rest of chapter 2 is a personal message relating to Timothy and Epaphroditus, two of Paul’s fellow workers who seem to fit the earlier description a good servant of Christ. My only prayer as I read that passage is, “Lord, may I be like them.”]

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing. – I Thessalonians 5:11

I was not feeling very good about myself. I had tried to do something nice for someone and had got it all wrong. Gift giving with me is kind of hit or miss. Sometimes I know just the perfect gift, and it’s a hit. Other times … not so much. This was apparently the latter. “It’s the thought that counts,” I was taught as a child. “Thank them anyway.” But blunt honesty seems to be the way this generation communicates, and I knew beyond a doubt that however well-meaning the thought, I had blown it.

Oh well, I told myself. We can’t all be gift-giving geniuses. Anyway, it was time for the evening prayer meeting – On to other things. I attempted to dismiss the bad feelings and headed for the service.

As anyone who has read this blog knows, I love my church. They seem to do everything a Church is supposed to do. They care for one another, sharing needs through their large group email (those needs being met usually before the day is over), taking meals to anyone with a new baby or who has had surgery, and always, always praying for one another, especially in their endeavors to share the gospel. Guests or first-time visitors are met with warm greetings and genuine interest.

And the singing … ! There is no “choir” per se. A four-person worship team leads, and the congregation is the choir. Being surrounded by that multitude is like momentarily stepping into heaven, especially when the instruments stop, and the final verse is sung by unaccompanied human voices in four-part harmony.

While prayer meetings at most churches I’ve experienced have been lucky to have a dozen show up, this church routinely has hundreds at their Sunday evening prayer service. These people truly believe in prayer.

That evening, being one of the last to arrive, I slipped into the only empty pew left.

Immediately, two of my younger (twenty-something) friends came in. They greeted me with hugs and asked if they could sit with me. When I said “Sure!” they seemed excited, and one exclaimed, “We’re so glad we get to sit with you!” Their enthusiasm surprised me, but it felt so good I decided, I’ll take it.

Prayer requests were given, and one by one, we prayed specifically for one another. I remembered a couple of times when I’d had needs, and it had been such a blessing to hear someone pray specifically for my concerns and know that a couple hundred other people were praying in unison for the same thing!

After the devotional message and the closing song, the girls and I lingered and caught up with each other’s lives. Then after one more series of hugs, they were on their way.

I recognized a few pews away another young woman who had sent out a prayer request that week via email. Since I had prayed for her situation, I went over, introduced myself, and asked her how things were going. She gave me an update and thanked me for praying. We then spent a few minutes getting acquainted.

Thinking this young person probably had other people she wanted to talk to besides yours truly, I told her it was so nice meeting her and wished her a great week. As I started to walk away, she called after me and asked if I wanted to get together for coffee sometime. We exchanged phones and added our numbers into each other’s contacts. After we handed them back, I got yet another healing hug.

On the way home I reflected on all that had happened that day. I thanked God for the worship service that morning. I smiled, remembering the tiny daughter of friends, whose face had lit up when I came in, and the way she ran over to greet me with her little arms open wide. (Toddlers are such good huggers!) I thanked Him for the girls that had sat with me that evening, seeming to feel so privileged, and the new friend who had asked me for my phone number.

Psychologists these days like to talk about having our emotional “love tank” depleted or filled up, depending on the encounters we experience with others and how they make us feel about ourselves. I don’t think for a moment this is a new concept. This is the reason Jesus established His Church two thousand years ago – to be His arms of love around us. And as we “go forth into all the world,” as He commissioned us to do, the Church is there to refill our tanks after the world has drained us, physically and emotionally.

A doctor could no doubt do a better job than I do explaining the many ways the body heals itself and the parallels to the Body of Christ. I only know that that afternoon I had been feeling lousy, fighting tears. But I’d learned that I don’t have to let my emotions run my life, and they weren’t going to keep me from going to church. Scripture says, “Let us not give up meeting together.” (Hebrews 10:25) Sometimes you just have to decide what you need to do and do it. Consequently, my love tank was filled to overflowing that night – with smiles and hugs, prayers and songs, and an invitation to coffee.

When I hear people give various reasons they don’t go to church, I wonder, where do they go when the world wears them down? Do they realize what they’re missing?

(Maybe we should invite them to church … One more time…)

“Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.” Galatians 6:10

Prayer: Lord, You know how much we need one another for comfort, encouragement, strength, and emotional health. Thank You for the times You help us heal one another. May we continue to be Your agents of healing, for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Jesus said to them, `Come away with me. Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest for a while.’  Mark 6:31a

“Ann! It’s time to get up,” I heard my husband Marty say.

It is? I thought, coming out of a deep sleep. It didn’t seem that late to me, especially on a Sunday morning. Church didn’t start for hours. I yawned.

As Marty walked through the bedroom, I asked hoarsely, “What time is it?”

He looked at his watch, replied, “Six o’clock,” and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Six o’clock!? Why would he think it’s time to get up? But I didn’t try to ask him through the door and over the sound of running water.

I tried to get back to sleep but found I couldn’t, mainly because I was too annoyed at the “rude awakening” I felt I had received. I tossed, turned, and grumbled. Finally, I figured I might as well get up. It was too beautiful a morning to lie in bed, stewing. I threw on some clothes, grabbed cup of tea, and went outside.

The early morning light splashed across the sky in pastel shades of pink and yellow. I walked barefoot in the dewy grass along the shoreline, watching the waterfowl paddling lazily on the glass-like surface of the lake. I smiled for the first time that day, and it felt good. I decided to stop being childish and adjust my attitude. This was too nice a time to spend pouting!

Sitting under a tree, I talked to Jesus. I thanked Him for the beauty of the morning and for the peace and solitude that had been a rare commodity in a season of small children and their demands. The breeze felt like the gentle caress of God, as the more I thanked him, the happier I became.

I didn’t have my Bible; I just let Him speak gently to me through His creation. I didn’t have my prayer list to go through, checking off each request; we just talked. I don’t remember if I sang that day, but knowing me, it’s a definite possibility. I only remember the feeling of my heart being filled to overflowing with peace and joy, as I communed with my Best Friend.

After an hour of two, I thought of Marty and how annoyed I had been with him. Now I was, in fact, grateful I had been awakened when I was. To think I had almost missed this special time! Then, suspecting the kids were probably awake by now, I headed inside to get them and myself ready for church, after taking one more leisurely lap around the yard.

When I saw Marty – the reason I had risen unusually early – I gave him a warm greeting.

“I’m actually glad I got up early! So, I’m not complaining, just curious – Why did you get me up at six o’clock?” I inquired.

“I didn’t get you up at six o’clock,” he said.

“Yeah, you did. You said, ‘Ann! It’s time to get up.'”

“No I didn’t. You asked me what time it was, and I said ‘Six o’clock.'”

“Well, yeah. But before that …”

“I didn’t say anything before that.”

Last week I wrote about how we hear God. I said He doesn’t speak to us in an audible voice – not usually. But, being God, I suppose He can speak to us any way He wants. As they say, “Whatever works.”

That day I realized, sometimes He sounds just like my husband.

Prayer: Father, I know You love me and will speak to me any way You choose. Thanks for not giving up on me when I’m hard of hearing! Make me sensitive to Your voice, and help me obey, even when I don’t feel like it at first. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way. Walk in it.” – Isaiah 30:21

I probably had that verse of Scripture in mind when I was writing the prologue to my book on prayer, BARRIERS (So, if prayers are so powerful, how come mine don’t get answered?) I was telling a story about a time in my life when I was praying for something I had been requesting for years, with the same seemingly nonexistent answer. I finally cried out to the Lord in my frustration, and I believe He spoke to me very clearly. Unfortunately, the words I used were, “When God speaks to you, you just know it.”

It has occurred to me in recent days that this sentence could be taken several ways, and one of them could result in a gross misunderstanding of God’s voice, with disastrous consequences.

In the context of the story, the sentences following explain that we can “hear” God’s voice in our hearts, as opposed to hearing an audible voice or seeing writing in the sky. That we “just know it” is meant to contrast with the obvious, visible, audible types of voices.

Another way to interpret the statement is that the Lord does speak to His children, and He doesn’t need a megaphone or billboard to do it. He speaks to us through His Word (the Bible), through circumstances, through His creation, and through other people, whether in person, preaching on the radio, or through their writings. God knows each of us intimately, and if He wants to communicate something to one of us, He knows exactly how to make it clear to us. He will see to it that we know He’s speaking and what He is saying. (We are without excuse.)

Either of those interpretations, or both, would be acceptable to me.

The message I do not want my readers to get out of that statement is that any time we hear a “still, small voice,” we can be sure it’s God. I have had times when that kind of “voice” is from the enemy, from the culture, or just my overactive imagination. I cringe at the thought that copies of this book are scattered all over the country, and in other countries (I’m guessing there are more copies of it in Uganda or India than there are in Kentucky right now.), and that anyone might draw the wrong conclusion from the statement I wrote so glibly. Of course, God is in control, and as I pray He won’t let the enemy hijack any of my words – spoken, written, sung, or prayed, past, present, or future – I trust He won’t let that happen. Still, the enemy of my soul (and my sleep) reminds me of atrocities that have been committed by people claiming, “God told me to do it,” and if I take my eyes off the Lord, my imagination can torment me with horrific scenarios that I might have a part in with my careless words.

SO. For the record, please note (especially if you have BARRIERS and have read it, are reading it, or intend to read it): To “hear God’s voice,” we need to know Him. We need to know His Word, so we can “test the spirits” (I John 4:1), because God will never contradict His Word in a “special,” personal message. As I later said in that same prologue, the better we know the Lord, the easier it is to discern His voice.

I have learned a great deal since I first published BARRIERS, and I hope to publish a new edition of the book soon, with a few typos corrected and chapters added. Regarding this prologue, I intend to change that sentence to read instead:

“Sometimes when God speaks to you, you just know it; this was one of those times.” (If any of you have a better idea, I am open to suggestions.)

Meanwhile, I’m praying that whoever reads this prologue will go on to read the rest of the book for full context, and that we will all seek the Lord – not a mystical experience for its own sake, but to truly hear God’s voice, and having heard, to obey His will.

Prayer: Lord, as writers we can struggle to put into words what You have taught us and what You have done for us. Thank You for understanding that we are imperfect, flawed people, serving a perfect God. It amazes me that You can take our feeble efforts and use them to advance Your kingdom. For this great privilege we thank You, in Jesus’ name. Amen

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” – Luke 23:39-43

The year was 1973, and I was at college in Virginia. It was a small women’s college that had a club called the Religious Life Association (RLA). It was there that I had participated in my first ever “Stations of the Cross” during Holy Week. Having grown up in a Presbyterian church, I found the concept of reenacting the events of Good Friday unfamiliar but interesting. I must have still been thinking about the event the night I had that vivid dream, one that I still remember, fifty years later.

I was in the balcony of the dimly lit chapel, watching a group of students walking through the Stations of the Cross. From that vantage point I started to notice two things happening simultaneously. One was that others were joining the ritual. At the same time, as if to accommodate the growing crowd, the sanctuary itself was gradually expanding. Moments later, the ceiling had disappeared, and what had been the sanctuary was now a courtyard under a night sky. At some point the lights morphed into flickering torches. As I strained to see what was going on below me, it seemed that the “reenactment” was disturbingly realistic. The Man at the center of attention seemed to be the victim of a real beating. I heard voices shouting viciously. If this was an act, they were very good at it!

At some point I realized this was no reenactment of the Stations of the Cross – this was the real thing! And if that were true, that meant the One at the center of it, getting beaten bloody was – Jesus!

I couldn’t just stand there watching it happen. Determined to help Him, I tore down the stairs, although I had no idea what I would or could do to help, once I got to Him – if that were even possible.

Once in the courtyard, I pushed my way through the mass of people for what seemed like hours, desperate to reach my Lord and dearest Friend. Finally, I broke through and was alarmed to see that He was already being nailed to the cross! I screamed, “NO!” and grabbed at His hand but only succeeded in tearing His flesh even more. He winced in pain. As He continued to suffer the torture, I was horrified to find that the more I tried to “fix” what was happening, the worse I made it. I began sobbing hysterically, “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!”

He turned His head, and as our eyes met, He said through the pain, “It’s OK.”

And I woke up, strangely at peace.

Of course, Jesus wasn’t “OK.” And what I did to Him was certainly not “OK.” But even as a baby Christian, I knew what He meant. I was forgiven because of what He went through for me. Yes, my sin had helped nail Him to that cross, whatever good intentions I might have professed. I was a fallen, flawed, foolish woman! But I wasn’t going to get the punishment I deserve, because He took it for me. I only had to come to Him, see His suffering, believe it, and repent, and I would be forgiven.

And now, fifty years later, I am still a fallen, flawed, foolish, forgiven woman.

Prayer: Jesus, I can never thank You enough for what You did for me, even when I was in my sin and ignorance. Today I pray for those who don’t know what they have done to You through their sin – intentional or not. May they see their guilt, repent, and be forgiven as I have been. I pray, too, for those who do know the depth of their sin and how their sins and the sin of all humanity have hurt You, but who don’t know they can be forgiven. Please bring them also to the foot of the Cross, to repent and receive the assurance of Your forgiveness and promise of eternal life. Finally, I pray for those who have, as I have, received the gospel and been saved from the power of sin. May our faith grow ever stronger, especially during this time when Your suffering, death and resurrection are commemorated all over the world. In Your precious name, Amen.

We know that we are children of God, and the whole world is under the control of the evil one. – I John 5:19

Our pastor has been preaching a series on the book of II Kings. It’s a fast-paced, exciting, confusing book of rulers of Israel – Northen and Southern kingdoms – prophets, and various enemies. I have read this book of the Bible numerous times over the years and have long given up on keeping everyone straight and knowing details for the sake of knowing details. However, the history of Israel contains important lessons regarding good, evil, and their consequences for individuals, leaders, and nations.

Recently the sermon included one of my favorite stories in Kings, the tale of the wicked Queen Athalia and little King Joash.

Athalia, daughter of the notorious King Ahab and Queen Jezebel and wife of King Jehoram, led the Southern Kingdom (Judah), from worshiping Jehovah into detestable Baal-worship. Her son, wicked King Ahaziah, ruled Judah for a year, although it’s debatable whether he was the king or just the puppet of his evil mother.

When Ahaziah died, Athalia set about to murder every male in the entire royal family – the line of King David!

Of all the wars and murders recorded in Kings, this bloodbath had the potential to be the most catastrophic. The Lord had predicted through His prophets that the coming Messiah would be from the lineage of David. If this wicked queen had succeeded in killing off that line, there would have been no Messiah – NO JESUS.

No salvation!

But, as has happened in better known biblical accounts (Exodus 1:22- 2:3, Matthew 2:13-16), one baby was preserved from the slaughter. How this happened is the stuff of fairy tales and Hollywood movies…

But Jehosheba took Joash [her nephew] and stole him away from the royal princes, who were about to be murdered. She put him and his nurse in a bedroom to hide from Athaliah, so he was not killed. He remained hidden with his nurse at the Temple of the Lord for six years while Athaliah ruled the land. (II Kings 11:2,3)

After seven years, Jehoida, the priest, decided the time was right for this little boy, the rightful King of Judah, to take the throne.

DRUM ROLL …

It was the Sabbath, and the people would soon be assembling. Some of the commanders and guards had Sabbath duty that day at the palace, some at the Temple, and some at the gates. Jehoida gathered them all – those on duty and off – at the Temple, and gave them instructions.

Then [the priest] gave the commanders the spears and shields that had belonged to King David and that were in the Temple of the Lord. The guards, each with his weapon in his hand, stationed themselves around the king … – II Kings 11:10-11a

Feel the suspense building as all of this was being done, unbeknownst to Athalia! The people gathered at the Temple and the commanders and guards quietly took their positions – as quietly as hundreds of soldiers with weapons and shields could manage!

Then,

Jehoida brought out the king’s son and put the crown on him; he presented him with a copy of the covenant and proclaimed him king. They anointed him, and the people clapped their hands and shouted, “Long live the king!” II Kings 11:12

Whatever Athalia had been doing all this time, she finally heard the uproar and hurried to the Temple, where she was appalled at what she saw.

Imagine the scene!

Little King Joash stood with a crown on his head and the covenant in his hand, officers and trumpeters beside him, surrounded by hundreds of armed guards, and all the people shouting joyfully, “Long live the king!” and blowing trumpets.

As might be expected,

“… Athalia tore her robes, and called out, ‘Treason! Treason!'” (II Kings 11:14c)

Then, in one day the kingdom of Judah made a complete turnaround, from Baal worship back to the true God.

First, the evil Athalia was dragged out of the Temple and killed.

Jehoida then made a covenant between the Lord and the king that they would be the Lord’s people. He also made a covenant between the king and the people. All the people of the land went to the temple of Baal and tore it down. They smashed the altars and idols to pieces and killed Mattan the priest of Baal in front of the altars.” (II Kings 11:17-18b)

Accompanied by the guards and the people, Jehoida brought Joash from the Temple to the palace, where the child took the throne, in the midst of much rejoicing.

For many years I didn’t know why this story was one of my favorites. I assumed it was because as a theater major, I could visualize the drama – tiny, helpless king, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers with King David’s spears and shields, wicked queen in a rage, the people rising up, the evil one getting justice, and a complete rejection of the false god in favor of Jehovah.

But recently I was picturing the scene, and something else occurred to me …

Besides preserving the line of David and the way of our salvation, this is a picture of how the Lord protects US!

We were created in the image of God for the purpose of ruling with Him (Genesis 1:26). But a wicked usurper has taken over the world (I John 5:19). By ourselves we are as small and weak as a little child, helpless against the evil that is in the world.

And yet we are surrounded by the armies of God (Psalm 91:11)! We are armed with supernatural weapons that can tear down the strongholds of the enemy (II Corinthians 10:4)! The saints – believers who have gone before us (Hebrews 12:1) – are cheering us on and will rejoice when we have the victory and take our rightful place as heirs to God’s kingdom (Romans 8:17)!

(“I’ve read the last chapter – we win!”)

Prayer: Lord, throughout history we have seen the evil powers that strive against the righteous for dominion over this world and over Your kingdom. Without You we are powerless and utterly dependent. And yet You are all-powerful and utterly dependable. Thank You for giving us the victory in Jesus’ name. Amen.

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel … – Philippians 1:3-5a

So, since I posted a three-part story last week instead of stretching it out over three Fridays (You’re welcome.), today I thought I’d post something short. Unfortunately, it disappeared. -_- Apparently, the glitch was the picture I tried to post, which was more than this page could manage, so it just deleted the whole piece. (*eye roll*) So, as my son used to say, back when he could barely talk, “Fry again!” (I’ll try putting the link to my Facebook post at the end.)

But first …

Many thanks to those of you who encouraged me in the recording of my first audiobook, Counselor, especially you who listened to the final product and wrote reviews. To the bloggers who have written reviews in your blogs, I’m thrilled that your followers will read them! Please remember to post the reviews on Amazon, too, if you haven’t already. Thanks!

(If you’re unfamiliar with what I’m talking about…

Another “First” from 2022 – Expanding My Reach

Announcement!

The audio version of Counselor is now available from Amazon, Audible, and iTunes.

Something I just found out yesterday …

If you are still listening to Counselor or haven’t started yet: When you are at the end of the audiobook, a note will pop up on your screen with a link to use to write a review. This link will only appear once. If you have procrastinated after listening to the whole book, you won’t get any more reminders, but you can still go onto Amazon and write a review, whenever you get around to it – although I warn you, those “round tuits” can be hard to come by! 😉

And now the big news!

All that to say, yesterday I started recording Book Two in my Awakening trilogy, entitled Vision. I’m excited to get back into the booth and continue telling my story.

https://www.facebook.com/ann.h.aschauer

Thanks again, everyone! 😊

Prayer: Lord, thank You that today we have so many ways to share the good news of the Gospel, I thank You for those who are much more tech-savvy than I am, who help me to get my stories “out there” to reach people I have never even met (yet). Please use my writings to bless those who read them – and listen to them. Please continue to bless them until we all meet in heaven, where we can joyfully share our “God stories” with one another throughout eternity. In Jesus’ name, amen.

So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. – I Corinthians 3:7

Having started the day of the St. Patrick’s parade with emotional misgivings and unexpected delays, annoyances, and inconveniences …

Satan’s Obstacles, or God’s “No”?

Satan’s Obstacles, or God’s “No”? Part 2: Obstacles

… my evangelizing partner Lilly and I had decided that anything short of an impossible hurdle was not a red light from God, but a distraction or obstacle from the other side. And so, not having run into any brick walls, we headed for the parade route, along with my little granddaughter Charlotte, who probably had more enthusiasm at the moment than the other two of us put together.

As we approached the first group of parade-goers, I took the lead, and Lilly remained quietly in the background – praying, I hoped.

Charlotte, however, wanted to take part, so, after I read the questions and the participants guessed at the multiple-choice answers, she announced the correct answers and their explanations. People seemed quite taken with this little lass, and they also seemed fascinated by the story of Patrick, which only the those who had attended Catholic school seemed to know anything about. When finished, I offered each group the little booklets I had made, and about half accepted, so they could quiz their families and friends.

I shared the contents of these booklets a few years ago:

Who Knew?

With each encounter, Lilly handed out bookmarks she had made. On one side was pictured a shamrock. On the stem Lilly had written the word, “LOVED,” and on the three leaves, “by the FATHER,” “by the SON,” and “by the HOLY SPIRIT.” On the back she had simply written in green, “You are loved.”

As we were received positively by every group we approached, my rebellious emotions went through a transformation. Having decided and committed to “just do it,” it was as if whatever had been holding me back had quickly given up. Charlotte’s excitement was contagious, and the general celebratory mood of the afternoon lent itself to the approach, Let’s just have fun with this!

Once the parade started to pass our block, we were reluctant to intrude on the spectators. But when there was a lull, to the point where people were wondering if the parade was over, we crossed the street to a McDonald’s to get Charlotte something to eat.

Inside, numerous teenagers were clustered around tables, engaged in animated conversations. While some might find this age group intimidating, I was drawn to them. This was the age I had taught and loved for years!

It still delights me that a group of teens – boys and girls – could be approached by a white-haired elderly woman and happily invite her into their world. I would ask, “Anybody here want to take a quiz, see what you know about St. Patrick?” Faces would light up, with cries of “Oo! I do!”

“So, you know about St. Patrick?” I asked the first table. They replied, no, they didn’t have a clue, but they couldn’t wait to take the quiz, anyway. I read the questions and the options, from the trick answers to the questionable ones, to the downright ludicrous, and hands shot up, disagreements ensued, and when Charlotte read the correct answers, there were triumphant high-fives. I felt as though I were back teaching a fun lesson to my beloved high school students. Once again, I felt like the “favorite teacher.” (I was much cooler in high school as a teacher than I ever was as a student.)

Four teenaged girls took the quiz, and when asked the final question, “Why is the shamrock the symbol of St. Patrick?” all four picked “D. According to legend, shamrocks sprang up overnight, covering Patrick’s first church in green, symbolizing life.” All four were wrong.

“Man, I’m good!” I laughed. “I made that one up.”

“You did?!” they gasped, wide-eyed.

“I’m a writer,” I explained. They asked what I wrote, and when I told them I had written books – some of them novels for their age group, in fact – they wanted to know where they could get them. I gave them each one of my business cards.

This bit of serendipity had not even been on my radar.

The last group we approached was a gathering of four boys and four girls, all about sixteen. When I asked who wanted to take part in “the St. Patrick’s challenge,” most accepted, while a couple of them hung back to watch. They asked if I was filming – would this be on TikTok?! Apologetically, I said, no, I was technologically challenged. One young man slipped a phone from his pocket and looked as if he were recording it himself. (No, I don’t know if he was.)

After the usual guesses, disagreements, high-fives, and laughter, one of the students said, “You should post this on TikTok! You’d make a lot of money!”

When it became obvious that “a lot of money” didn’t phase me, another one of them asked, “Why are you doing this? Are you Irish or something?”

“No,” I said, “I’m a born-again Christian, and this is my way of sharing Jesus with other people.”

Another young man said. “Then you should put this on TikTok. You’d reach more people.”

As we headed back to the car, I thought, “Maybe next year …”

I’m sure some will ask if I saw anybody make a decision for Christ that afternoon, and the answer would be “no.” Sometimes we just plant the seeds. Or water seeds someone else has planted. Or show a bunch of young people that Christians can have fun, too. And on rare occasions, we’ll have the privilege of harvesting souls.

But planting, watering, harvesting, it’s all Jesus.

Prayer: Lord, thank You for not letting my emotions run my life. Thanks for giving me the strength to obey You even when I don’t “feel like it,” and for so often helping me to “feel like it” once the decision is made. Thank You for the rewards of obedience, whether we experience them quickly or have to wait until we get to heaven. In Jesus’ name, amen.

(P. S. Scripture tells us that as Christians we will experience ridicule, rejection, and even abuse. And yes, we should be prepared, because there will be those days. But thankfully, this was not one of them.)

After yesterday’s “cliff hanger,” I was persuaded to post the continuation of the story earlier than next Friday. I have been mostly consistent (O. C. D.?) about posting once a week, on Friday. But, when I’m doing a story with a lot of details, I don’t want a post to be too long, because some readers will just skip something they don’t have time to read at the moment. At the same time, making y’all wait a week for each installment might lose some of you, too. (Who stays focused on one story that long these days?) So, here’s segment 2, and the final segment just might be posted tomorrow. Or Friday. Maybe Friday I’ll have nothing. And I suspect no one will die because of it. Let me know in the comments what you think.

No weapon formed against you shall prosper … Isaiah 54:17

As I related in my last post ( https://seekingdivineperspective.com/2023/03/17/satans-obstacles-or-gods-no/ ), I was conflicted the morning it seemed I would finally make it to the St. Patrick’s Day parade for an outreach I had wanted to do for years. The age-old dilemma of discerning God’s will in the midst of conflicting circumstances reared its head, and I wound up promising the Lord that I would go, no matter how I felt or what complications arose. I prayed that if He truly didn’t want me to go, He would put an obstacle in my path that I could not get around. Otherwise, I would assume they were the enemy’s distractions, or even the Lord’s speedbumps, but not roadblocks.

It seemed someone didn’t want me going, because that morning, besides my emotional misgivings, the following “glitches” came up:

1.). My evangelism partner was lacking the enthusiasm she’d had when we had met before to pray and plan. I was to find out later that she was dealing with some chronic pain issues, and this was a bad day for her. But, God bless her, she had decided, as I had, that there are times we just obey, whether or not it’s comfortable or convenient. We had talked earlier about how the Lord had sent His disciples out two at a time, possibly so that while one was talking, the other could be praying. It looked as though I would be the talker today.

2.) I was asked by my daughter if I would take two of my grandchildren to the parade, and I agreed. When I arrived to pick them up, one of them was still barefoot, cranky, and whiny and didn’t want to go. I ended up getting said child ready and dropped off at our house to “hang out” with “Beepaw.” (So much for getting to the parade early.)

3.) Parking was predictably very difficult – but not impossible.

4.) Before getting out, I leaned over to get something off the floor. The chain holding my glasses caught on the gear shift. A small explosion followed, scattering hundreds of tiny beads all over the inside of the car.

All of these were hardly deal-breakers, just inconveniences. It occurred to me that the more obstacles were thrown my way, the more it could mean the enemy didn’t want me doing this – and the more it must be something important and worthwhile! (Aha!) My mood lifted a bit as I brushed tiny beads off my lap. I smirked, muttered under my breath, “Nice try,” stuck my glasses in my pocket, and left the mess in the car to deal with later.

I made my way toward the crowded streets, with my nearly-silent partner, who I hoped was silently praying, and my little granddaughter, who didn’t seem that interested in being silent …

Not exactly what I had originally envisioned.

But then, this wasn’t about me, was it?

Prayer: Lord, Your plans are rarely what we think they are, but I’ve learned that they are always better. Thanks for the adventure of trusting You when things look crazy and out of control. I know that You are always, always in control. Thanks for letting me come along for the ride. In Jesus’ name, amen.