The Woman Who Extended the Lord's Table

Helen Bruch Pearson in her book Do What You Have The Power To Do reminds us of the power of persistent faith. Let me share with you the story of a Canaanite women who refused to be turned aside until she had received a blessing from Jesus for her daughter. Her story can be found in Matthew 15:21-28.

"Jesus went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon, an area that bordered the region of Galilee. How far he journeyed into this district, and the reasons why he sojourned there, are questions without answers. However, the narrative of the Canaanite woman of persistent faith assures us that borderlands were no different for Jesus than they are for us.

Borderlands are those fringes where the boundaries of the familiar and the strange meet and intersect. They are uncertain marginal places where histories and traditions clash and challenge and overlay one another. They touch at the edges of converging, sometimes conflicting 'us' and 'them' perceptions of reality. Uncomfortable and fractious as they may be, they are also frontiers. Borderlands are mysterious places where the inbreaking of the new is conceived and born. So it was for Jesus in this borderland encounter where he traveled.

The district of Tyre and Sidon was definitely in non-Jewish territory. A Canaanite woman approached him, seemingly out of nowhere. She was not polite or timid. She showed no respect for their differences. She did not observe the lines of courtesy and custom that had separated the Jews and the Gentiles for centuries. Determined to get Jesus' attention, she was a shouting, assaulting, scene maker of the most irritating and embarrassing sort!

Nothing would quiet her except recognition by Jesus. The disciples tried to get her to stop. They attempted to chase her away. They were rude and unkind in an effort to dissuade her. The woman had gone too far, and the disciples could take no more. Her shouting after them was too much. They implored Jesus to send her away.

Out of the silence Jesus had kept, he spoke for the first time. His answer was blunt, curt, and intended to cut off - to end any verbal exchange. Was it intended for the disciples or for the woman? Or was it decidedly ambiguous so that all Gentiles who might ever ask for a favor from this Jewish Messiah would know the answer?

The disciples were relieved at Jesus' response. Surely this would put an end to the woman's public exhibition. But no - the woman persisted. Perhaps for the sake of her demented daughter, the woman was willing to endure and make a public nuisance of herself. Perhaps Jesus was one more cure she was willing to try. Or perhaps she knew more about the Israelites' God than they did. Whatever her reasons, in her turning to Jesus she was transformed. From a posture of shouting and demanding, she bowed and knelt before Jesus with a plea from her heart.

Jesus did not relent. Regardless of how needy she was or how worthy she might be, she was born a Gentile. She stood outside God's covenant. And Jesus was not about to satisfy her by giving up the blessings that belonged only to the children of Israel. How could she presume that she was entitled to anything from the Israelites' God?

'It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."

His response was almost too hard to bear, for he compared this distraught Canaanite mother with a dog! Burdened by these words, was the woman's only option to slink away from the one she called "Lord" - the same one who called her a dog? To do this was not the woman's nature. In the face of rejection and insults, she refused to be refused! Time was too short and her daughter's life was too precious. The fragility of her daughter's situation kept her from being overcome with sentimentality and self-consciousness.

The woman's faith insisted that Jesus was open to hear God's will anew. He could still be struck to the heart with repentance, she believed. She did not hope for a faith that would move mountains. All she wanted was to speak the right words that Jesus would hear. With little to lose, the woman said, 'Yes Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the masters' table.

This Canaanite woman, who started out as an interruption and intrusion, became God's representative and bearer of truth to Jesus. Her faith challenged Jesus to exercise his faith in a new way - to venture beyond the familiar voices of tradition and to hear a new word from God. The woman was a stranger who shook Jesus from his Jewish way of seeing things. She was an invoker whose faith opened up new possibilities for all persons. She was a persistent petitioner, and after this encounter, no one could be denied access to God's blessings because of race or ancestry or inherited religion and culture. She had truly extended the Lord's table, and there was enough bread for all the children - Gentile, Jew, Greek, slave, free, man, woman, and child.

This story has no ending, but its beginning was with a Canaanite woman whose faith would not let Jesus go until he had blessed her daughter. With that blessing, we have all been fed. We all kneel beside our unnamed Canaanite sister and pray, "Lord, help me."

The Bent Over Woman

The story of the bent over woman can be found in Luke 13:10-17. Of all the unnamed women in the Bible, this woman's story is possibly my favorite. It speaks to me of charity and justice. It reminds me that as long as one person remains bent over, we all do. It reminds me that we all have a responsibility to reach out and help those who cannot help themselves. Let me share her story with you as it was shared with me by Helen Bruch Pearson in Do What You Have The Power To Do.

"Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem when he stopped at one of the local synagogues. It was his custom to preach and teach wherever he could, and this Sabbath day was no exception. Word had spread that Jesus was in town - the very same Jesus who had cast out demons and made the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to leap, and the oppressed to sing and dance with joy. It was this Jesus who was to preach and teach at their synagogue on this sabbath!

Every Jewish community had a synagogue. It was used as a meeting place for prayer and worship services. It also had an area for the study of and discussion about the Torah - God's laws by which they lived. People gathered from the town and the surrounding villages. They found their way into the synagogue and claimed their rightful places - the men in the main area of the synagogue and the women separated and hidden behind a kind of grill work with the children and the slaves. They gathered to witness the presence of the one whom others claimed to be a miracle worker. Perhaps this day they would see and hear for themselves what Jesus was all about.

At the very back of the room behind the grill work and close to the women's entrance could be seen a grotesque shadow. Nothing but a shadow - or so it seemed - gave shape to the figure of a woman bent double. Curved and folded in upon itself, the deformed body had been her burden to carry for eighteen years. And worse, it was said that she was demented - possessed by a demon and bound by Satan. Surely she must have transgressed God's law and sinned mightily to have been afflicted with such a terrible, ugly visible sign of her disobedience.

Cast out to exist on the edges of her community beyond any companionship and contact, this woman was treated as a 'no thing'. This crippled, bent over woman reminded too many people that God might someday find them out and visit them with affliction, laying bare before the townspeople all the hypocrisies they had spent a lifetime covering and masking. This woman represented the incarnation of their secret sins and the culmination of their worst nightmares. If the people had not been so preoccupied with Jesus's visit, they would have noticed her and denied her entrance into the synagogue. She certainly had no business being where she was on that day!

All was quiet. Anticipation hung in the air with the incense. Jesus stepped forward and held up the Torah to read God's word. He paused long enough to look at the faces watching him. Here was a man who would teach them with authority and not like their own scribes - or so it seemed. Perhaps all that they had heard about Jesus was really true.

But what about that shadow of a woman - the one with the misshapen body who slouched and leaned against the wall? She could not see Jesus, yet she knew he was looking at her. She could feel the congregation turn toward her. In their turning, she knew she was no longer invisible. At the same time, it was frightening, but since she had nothing to lose, she gave herself over to whatever was about to happen.

Jesus called her. Out loud. In public. In the synagogue. It was strictly forbidden by rabbinic law that a man give any public recognition to a woman - let along speak openly to one. But here was Jesus - this unorthodox preacher - calling her to him. Surely there must be some mistake. He should not be addressing her. Not the hunchback possessed with a spirit of infirmity. Not the one from whom people recoiled and for whom they stepped aside to avoid the risk of her touch. But there was that clear voice again. Jesus was calling her to come to him.

Jesus's speech parted the crowd, and there she was! This time people moved away not to avoid her, but to look at her. It was as if for the first time in eighteen years, she really existed. Above the murmuring of the assembly, the shuffle of her sandals against the hard floor echoed throughout the synagogue. Each step seemed an eternity of slow, awkward, painful motion, but Jesus was in no hurry. In that long moment between where she had been and where she was going, she knew it was not the ruler of the synagogue who was in charge. It was Jesus who was Lord of the sabbath in this place. This was Jesus' holy time to do with as he wished. And Jesus had chosen to devote it to her.

She stood in front of him. Bowed in upon herself - just as she was. Because she could not lift her head, she could see only his hands and his feet. She wondered what his face looked like - this teacher, who through the power of his voice parted the crowd and made her feel whole. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

'Woman,' Jesus said, 'Woman, you are freed from you infirmity. Rid of your ailment. Set free from this disease. You are no longer bound. Woman... you are free!'

Those words spilled over her like sweet perfume and baptized her with new possibilities. They anointed her lonely, parched heart. They loosened the vicious pain of bone and tissue and sinew that had for days and years turned in upon her body.

'Woman," Jesus was saying again to her, 'you are free from your infirmity.'

This was the awful terrifying moment of decision. Did she really want to be free? The infirmity that possessed her - it was familiar. She knew its name. She knew her limits. She knew the predictable responses of the community. She had come to accept that she was to blame for her ailment. And strange and foolish as it might seem, there was comfort and security to be found in the familiarity of it all. She occupied a place that demanded little from her. She could exist day by day without much risk - as long as she stayed in her place and kept away from people. What had seemed like powerlessness, when confronted with the awesome responsibility of freedom, began to take on a power of its own.

In that moment between sickness and health, between brokenness and wholeness, the woman knew the decision was hers to make. She was held between the tenacious grasp of a familiar past and the dreadful promise of a future yet unshaped by the demands of healing and peace and justice. While she knew she could not make herself well, she did know that she could refuse the gift of healing offered by Jesus. She could choose to remain bound and unfree.

Jesus waited. He waited until he knew her heart had decided, and then he reached toward her and laid his hands upon her. It was like awakening from a cramped position in a long hard sleep. No longer bent over, her body still ached from all those years of being folded in upon itself. And it ached from the unspeakable goodness and joy of the miracle that lifted her upright once more. For the first time in eighteen years, she could see straight ahead of her. She could look people squarely in their faces. A simple thing most people never think about, but this woman knew it to be a miracle. It was into the eyes of Jesus that she first looked, and in the looking, she knew the source of her healing and her salvation. And she praised God!

There they were - all the critics of Jesus circled together around the synagogue ruler. They were indignant, frustrated, and deeply angered. They had been publicly humiliated and chastised. How dare Jesus cause this kind of commotion among the people - and in their synagogue! How dare he take the sabbath away from them - and all at the cost of their self esteem! The rumors were right. He was a dangerous man - this Jesus! Not only had he healed a worthless woman but he had gained the confidence and support of the entire congregation. He held them spellbound with his words and his actions. This man would have to be destroyed.

But I need not repeat this story to you. you have been in the synagogue from the beginning of this story until now. You watched the responses of those in the congregation. Perhaps you were even surprised at some of your own responses. Old prejudices and broken relationships that keep you bent over still reside in the dark places of your heart. And yes, Jesus saw you. He held you in his glance as he looked over the congregation - for what seemed like forever. When he named some in the congregation 'Hypocrites!' you could not escape the cutting edge of his accusation. And when Jesus proclaimed release and freedom for the bent over woman, you participated in that healing. When Jesus touched her, he touched you. When she stood up, you were lifted. When she praised God, your doxology was raised. And it seemed like you stood tall and straight for the first time in many years. If one of God's sons or daughters is bent over, we are all stooped and diminished. No one stands upright alone!

Like the bent over woman who had to choose between freedom and bondage - between brokenness and wholeness - you have the opportunity to write the end of this story, for it is your story, too. How will you choose? What will you do?"

What Were Their Names?

Helen Bruch Pearson, in her book Do What You Have The Power To Do, reminds us that it is important to reclaim the memory of those who have gone before us. So many of those stories from the Bible that speak to me are about women who remain nameless. Do you ever wonder what their names were? I do.

Like Ms. Pearson, "I wonder still...what were their names? I wish I knew the names of the women who brought their children to Jesus for a blessing. Or the names of the women disciples who ministered to Jesus. Or the names of the widows in the early church. I wonder what name the woman at the well answered to - that one who lived on the edge and moved from one crisis to the next? When she received the life-giving water, this woman left her water jar in the dust by the well, and she went to testify to others. It is out of the dust clouds left by her determined footsteps that our hopes arise. But what was her name?

Or the woman who was found in adultery and was told to go and sin no more. What was her name? Or the woman who anointed Jesus with costly ointment and baptized his feet with her tears. Did she have a name? What do you suppose was the name of Jairus's daughter who Jesus took by the hand and raised from the dead? Or the name of the woman who pushed through the crowd to touch the hem of his garment? And the bent-over woman, her body crippled and ugly. Did Jesus call her by name when she stood tall and straight? What was her name?

Or the name of the widow who gave her last mite. Or the bride at the wedding for whom Jesus performed his first miracle. Or the names of the women at the cross who waited through the night. Ah...I wonder...what were their names?

What were their names?"

I could go on and on listing and remembering these brave, unnamed women, but we are called to do more than remember. One of our responsibilities is to make visible in our own time those who are without name, those who are out of our sight and hearing distance. We are called to give voice to those who know only silence and imprisonment. We must find ways to carry the burdens of those who are bent double so that one day we all can stand upright.

In order to reach out to others and give them a voice, we must also take the time to know ourselves. What is your name? A name means that a person has a beginning and a history of relationships. Take a few minutes to recall what you know about your name. From where did it come? How did you get your name? From it's earliest form, has it been changed? Why? Do you know what your name means? Were you named after someone? Who chose your name for you?

Think of the women in your life, named and unnamed, who have been an example to you. Become a conversation with them. What gifts have they given you? What did you learn from them? What would you want to tell them?

Find a friend to share these thoughts with. I would be honored if you would like to leave a comment and share your thoughts with me. If you would like for me to pray for you by name this week, leave a comment. All I need is your first name. God will know your needs.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine." Isaiah 43:1

I have called you by name

Recently, I have been re-reading Do What You Have the Power to Do by Helen Bruch Pearson. It is a study of six New Testament women and I think it is one of my favorite books. Several years ago, I led a retreat based on this book and it remains one of the favorite retreats that I have had the privilege to lead. The book truly challenged me to think about what I believe and then to take action on those beliefs. These empowering stories challenged me to step out and do what I had the power to do to address the wider issues of oppression in today's society.

Over the next several weeks, I would like to use this book as a basis for my weekly devotionals. I hope that you will find these stories to be as empowering as I did. I hope that reading about these women will be thought provoking and life changing for you. If you know someone who might like to share in this study, please pass this link along. I think these stories are significant and the more people with whom we can share them, the better.

Today, I would like to begin by sharing a meditation from the book that reminds us of just how precious we are to God. Beginning next week, we will look at these special women of the New Testament.

MEDITATION

Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
When you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
...you are precious in my eyes,
and honored, and I love you.
Isaiah 43:1b-2, 4 (RSV)

The good news, proclaimed across the ever rolling streams of time through a thousand ages of space and echoed by an endless cloud of witnesses is this:

God has redeemed us.
God has called us each by name.
We belong to God.
We are precious in God's eyes.
God sees us and honors us.
And best of all,
God loves us!

A Funeral for "I Can't"

I recently had the opportunity to read a chapter from Sharon Jaynes new book I'm Not Good Enough. In the book, Sharon tells the story of a teacher who lived and worked in a small town in Michigan. One day she decided that she and her students would have a funeral for "I Can't."

On the appointed day, she instructed her class of ten year olds to fill sheets of paper with every "I Can't" statement that had ever plagued them. They were told to use as many sheets of paper as necessary to get them all down.

"I can't kick the soccer ball past second base."
"I can't do long division with more than three numerals."
"I can't get Debbie to like me."
"I can't do ten push ups."
"I can't eat just one cookie."

The students lists went on and on. Some students needed more than one page to complete the lists. Even the teacher was busy writing out a list of "I Can'ts." When everyone was finished, the teacher asked each student to come forward and place their list in an empty shoe box. When all the lists had been collected, she put the lid on the box, tucked it under her arm, and headed out the door and down the hall with all the students in tow.

Halfway down the hall, the procession stopped and the teacher entered the custodian's room. She quickly returned with a shovel and proceded to lead the students to a far corner of the playground. The students took turns helping to dig a hole for the box. When it was big enough, the box of "I Can'ts" was placed in the hole and covered with dirt. Each student had at least one full page of "I Can'ts" buried in that box, as did the teacher.

At this point, the teacher had the students gather around, join hands, and lower their heads. She delivered a befitting eulogy for "I Can't."

"We have provided "I Can't" with a final resting place and with a headstone that contains his epitaph. He is survided by his brothers and sister, "I Can," "I Will," and "I'm Going to Right Away." They are not as well known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and powerful yet. Perhaps someday, with your help, they will make an even bigger mark on the world. May "I Can't" rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in "I Can'ts" absence. Amen"

Following the funeral service, the students returned to their classroom where they celebrated the passing of "I Can't" with cookies, popcorn, and fruit juice. They prepared a large tombstone from butcher paper with the words "I Can't" at the top and the date of death at the bottom. They hung the tombstone in their classroom for the remainder of the year.

On those rare occasions when a student forgot and uttered the words, "I can't," the teacher simply pointed to the tombstone and the student was reminded that "I Can't" was dead. They were encouraged to rephrase their statement.

I frequently find that the words "I can't" creep into my conversation. Perhaps I need to have a funeral service for "I Can't." Perhaps we all do. This week why don't you try making a list of all your "I Can'ts" and then bury them. Write an obituary and place it where you will see it often.

Eliminate the words "I can't" from your vocabulary. I can't? I don't think so. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

A Prayer for Discernment

This past week, I have tried to begin each day by surrendering myself to God and asking Him to heighten my senses that I may better hear Him speak to me throughout the day. I am learning to be patient and expectantly wait for Him to speak to me. Below is a prayer that I have been using to center myself each morning. It comes from A Book of Uncommon Prayer by Kenneth G. Phifer.

Almighty God, who has called and called
and whom I seldom hear,
Let my heart be open now and my spirit alert to your voice.
I know you understand
that it is not always out of sheer indifference
that I do not hear.
Your voice is still and small,
as a long ago prophet said,
and the other voices are so loud and demanding.
You never speak in thunder.
Your comings are not marked by the roll of drums
or the blast of trumpets.
I wish you would speak louder.
I wish your advents were plainer.
But you persist in speaking in quiet ways
and coming in a fashion
that makes it easy for me to ignore you.
Now I am listening.
Say something, O God, to me.
I am waiting.
Amen.

I would encourage each of you to begin your day with such a prayer. What is it that God is trying to reveal to you?

Discerning the Voice of God

Many thanks to all the people who have taken a look at my little blog. I have been amazed to see, that what started as a way to deal with the grief of losing a loved one, has grown so quickly! There have been almost 500 views with viewers spanning 6 continents. I am humbled that so many people are interested in my ramblings. Thank you so much for stopping by and I hope that you have been able to find a little peace and inspiration in what you find here.

Recently I have had the opportunity to reconnect with a group of women with whom I used to attend church. This group of women was precious to me and we spent many hours studying together, going on retreat together, supporting one another through life's difficult times, and celebrating each others successes. What a blessing for me to be able to reconnect with such a wonderful group. You know that the people are special when you can walk into a room after 15 years and it's as if you were never apart!

We are meeting together weekly to study Priscilla Shirer's Discerning the Voice of God: How to Recognize When God Speaks. This is certainly a study that is relevant to me. As I enter into this next season of my life, I am anxious to know what God has planned for me. I am trying to learn to be still (no easy feat) and listen for what God has to say to me.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that God still speaks to us today. We can read the Bible and find stories about God speaking to the people of old. He spoke to Moses from a burning bush but I am afraid that I have never experienced anything quite so dramatic. Most of the time my conversations with God tend to be one sided. It seems that I spend a lot of time talking but never much time listening. When I stop to think about it, I realize that I never expected God to speak to me. I figured communication with God included me talking and him listening.

Priscilla Shirer tells a story that epitomizes this model of communication. She tells about asking her husband which pair of shoes he thought looked best with an outfit. She states that she had already made up her mind, but asked her husband anyway. Her husband was hesitant to give a response and answered, "Why are you asking me? You're going to do what you want to do anyway!"

I wonder if this is what we do when we try to talk to God. We ask for his guidance, but really we have already made up our mind. We're planning to move forward with our own plan without stopping to hear what he may have to say. We are willing to follow God as long as it's comfortable and lines up with what we think is best.

I'm guilty. How about you? This week I am planning to work on not only talking to God, but actually listening for what he has to say to me. Hababkkuk 2:1 says, "I will stand on my guard post and station myself on the rampart; and I will keep watch to see what He will speak to me." I love that. "I will station myself on the rampart and I will keep watch..." Hababkkuk expected God to speak. He stood watch and waited to hear God's voice. He didn't rush off to implement his own plan. He expected God to speak and waited until he did so. That is what I am going to try this week. To stand watch and see what God will speak to me.

I hope you will join me this week and listen for God's voice. Be patient; expect him to speak.

If you would like, leave a comment and let me know your thoughts. I always enjoy hearing from you and learning what God is doing in your life.

Wouldn't It Be Grand To Be An Angel?

I am a nurse and I have spent the better part of the last ten years working with and caring for cancer patients. For me, this has been a great privilege. I stand in awe of the men and women who bravely face this disease and do so with such grace and integrity. So many of them refer to those of us who care for them as "angels," but I think they are the ones who are angels. In the past ten years, I have learned more from my patients about life, love, and facing whatever life throws at you than I did in all my years before I became a nurse. I now know that no matter how difficult life gets, there is a way to face it with grace and dignity.

One of my patients gave me a book by Ann Weems called Kneeling in Bethlehem. In the book she marked a poem that I would like to share with you. Every time I read it, it brings a smile to my face. I hope it makes you smile as well.

Wouldn't It Be Grand To Be An Angel?

Wouldn't it be grand to be an angel
and have as your address
"The Realms of the Glory of God"?

And swing on rainbows,
and gather stars in your pockets,
winging in and out of earth in a flurry of moondust
with the messages of God?

Comforting the distressed, warning the righteous,
delivering the just, guarding little children?

Of course, we can comfort and warn
and deliver and guard.

Maybe, if we get that right,
we can swing on rainbows later.

I hope so. I hope that I can get it right and swing on a rainbow someday. Every time I see a rainbow I imagine Becca swinging along it's colorful arcs. And each night when I gaze at the stars, I am sure that Becca has gathered them together and their light is shining down on me as she gathers the stars into her pocket.

Thanks, Becca. Thanks for sharing your light with me.

To whom will you be an angel this week? Leave me a comment and let me know.

Letting go of unrealistic expectations

Patti Digh, in her book life is a verb, tells a story about her favorite pair of jeans. Perhaps you have such a pair of jeans. You know what I'm talking about, a pair of jeans that fit you perfectly, are comfortably worn in, and have faded to the perfect shade of blue. Patti had owned her jeans since high school. She had worn them on dates and while hanging out with friends. After she graduated from high school, she took them to college with her. She had traveled around the world while wearing them.

But, as happens, years passed and a time came when she could no longer fit into her favorite jeans. For years, she worked to achieve her goal of getting back into those jeans. She spent hours working out in gyms and tried every diet that came along. Yet, even though there were minor successes, she still could not fit into her jeans. Day after day she would look into her closet and see those jeans hanging there, taunting her. Every time she saw those jeans she felt a sense of failure.

One day her daughter, who was in the sixth grade, was complaining about not having anything to wear to school. So Patti pulled the jeans out of the closet and tossed them to her daughter suggesting that she might enjoy the retro look. She expected for the jeans to be too large but thought that with a belt perhaps it would work. But guess what, a few minutes later her daughter returned the jeans saying, "Thanks, but they're too small."

For thirty years Patti had spent countless hours working to achieve the goal of getting into a pair of jeans that were too small for her thin, athletic twelve year old daughter. For thirty years she had been beating herself up because she was unable to achieve a goal that was unrealistic.

Patti Digh went on to say that once she thought about it, she realized that fitting into the jeans was not even the real goal. The jeans represented a time when her life had been more carefree and simpler. She said the goal she should have been reaching for was a less stressful way of living rather fitting into a pair a jeans her twelve year old daughter could not wear.

How often do we do this to ourselves? How often do we set ourselves up for failure by having unrealistic expectations? Think about your own life and replace the word jeans with whatever it is that is following you through life and setting you up for failure.

There can be real danger in staying focused on unrealistic expectations. We can become so focused on unrealistic goals that we fail to recognize and enjoy the real life right in front of us. Don't miss out on the beauty and joy in the world because you are too busy punishing yourself for not achieving something unrealistic.

Working toward your goals should make you feel good and provide a sense of accomplishment. This week I would encourage you to examine your goals. Are they unworthy, unreachable, or unreasonable? Do they make you feel bad? Or do they make you feel good, right, and strong? Eliminate those goals that limit and minimize you. Make your goals challenging, not destructive. Look behind your goals to see if they are even the real goals.

Don't miss out on the life that is in front of you. Like Patti, ask yourself, "Is it the jeans or is it something else I want?"

If you would like to share your thoughts, please leave a comment. I would love to hear from you.

Discovering the potential within

God of life, be with me, breathe through me, as I ponder this life that I am fashioning.

Society, culture, family, and religion all shape our sense of self. Experience has shown me that the most effective people are the ones who are most comfortable with themselves. They are the ones that have been able to separate themselves from the myths and expectations projected onto them by others.

In the book of Genesis is the story of a young woman named Rachel. Rachel was a shepherdess, the daughter of Laban, and the sister of Leah. One day, as she was leading her flock she met a young man named Jacob who had traveled to her land in search of a wife. When he saw the very beautiful Rachel, Jacob knew instantly that he had found his wife.

Jacob approached Rachel's father and as was the custom of the time, entered into an agreement to work for seven years in return for the right to marry Rachel. When the time came for the marriage, Laban tricked Jacob by sending to the wedding ritual a heavily veiled Leah instead of Rachel. When Jacob discovered the deception, he approached Laban and was told that he could marry Rachel as well, but would have to work for another seven years. Jacob, who desired Rachel above all others, agreed.

You can imagine the competition that was being set up between the two sisters. Both desired Jacob's love and attention. Rachel is described as being very beautiful, while Leah is described as having weak eyes. Rachel had her betrothed stolen from her and given to Leah through their father's deceit. Both sisters were dependent on a father or husband for their survival. And if that were not enough, it turns out that in a society that valued the birth of male children, Leah was able to produce sons while Rachel was barren.

Each sister must have felt inadequate as a result of the cultural, family, and religions expectations of their time. Leah knew that her sister was prettier and it must have stung knowing that that Jacob had to be tricked into marrying her. I am sure that she felt if she could produce one more son that perhaps her husband would love and accept her a little more. And Rachel must have felt betrayed by her family who should have been offering protection and support. I am sure she longed to give her husband the sons he desired and feared that he would no longer love her if she could not.

I can certainly identify with the longings and frustrations of both sisters. Often times our sense of self worth is tied up in external things that are beyond our control and these things can cause us to feel inferior and worthless. As happened to Rachel and Leah, when this happens we can become envious and demanding. In order to overcome our feeling of inadequacy we often seek validation in external rewards. But these external rewards will never be able to fill the emptiness inside. Our house won't be big enough, our car won't be nice enough, our significant other won't be cute enough, our salary won't be high enough. When our sense of worth is tied up in external things, the problem is not with what we don't have, but with how we see ourself.

We grab for external rewards hoping that they will increase our value. Those external rewards may take many forms. They may be the things we buy to make ourself feel better. They may be the crowd we hang with in hopes of gaining popularity and acceptance. They may be substances we ingest to soothe our emotions. But in reality, in order to become powerful and transformative people, we have to find our value inside ourselves, not by grabbing more and more external things.

A time came in the life of Jacob, Leah, and Rachel when God commanded them to pack up their belongings and make a pilgrimmage to Bethel to make an altar before God. As part of this pilgrimmage, they were commanded to put away their household idols - all the outward objects that they worshipped. We, too, face this same call. Before we can come to our place of destiny, our Bethel, we too must set aside our idols. We have to make a choice. We can continue to compare, compete and project a false image, or we can identify and discard those things that have become a substitute for God.

Giving up our idols can be a daunting task. When we do, it causes us to come face to face with ourselves. We are left with nothing but us. And that can be a scary prospect. But if we will only give it a chance, we would find that within ourself we can find great potential. When we give up our idols, we have a chance to reclaim our true selves. Underneath the glitz and facade, lies the person that God created and that person is filled with a reserve of awesome potential.

For us, Bethel represents our God place, the place where we can listen to the voice of God and experience his love. This is the place to which we are drawn in order to reconnect with a God who renews and restores us. It is a place of transformation where we can shed the false self imposed on us by society. It is the place we can come to to accept the gift within ourself that is ourself.

In the end, Rachel and Jacob's clan were invited to remain in Bethel and live there forever. We, too, are invited to become permanent dwellers at our own Bethel. We can no longer afford to be occasional visitors. We need to settle in and make ourselves at home. We need to take the time to look within ourselves and become the genuine person that God created us to be.

The story ends with Rachel in Bethel having given up her household idols. Finally her womb is opened and she gives birth to a son. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth - giving birth to her dream. May you reclaim your true self in time to give birth to your dreams.

Text: Genesis 29:1-35; 30:1-24; 31:1-21; 35:1-4

Consider the following:

1. What idols have you held on to or have held onto you?
2. In what ways do these idols surface in your life?
3. In what ways have these idols stifled your potential?
4. What's the first step you need to take on your journey to Bethel?

Resource: Leading Lessons by Jeanne Porter

Hospitality of the Home and Heart

Bless the spaces of home and heart, O God, that my life may be a place of welcome.

"She said to her husband, 'I know that this man who often comes our way is a holy man of God. Let's make a small room on the roof and put in it a bed and a table, a chair and a lamp for him. Then he can stay there whenever he comes to us." 2 Kings 4:9-10.

I have been thinking a great deal about the people who flow through our lives. I have been contemplating the above passage and thinking about this woman who opened her home to a man of God because of his need and out of her kindness. She seemed to grasp the concept that extending hospitality is a sacred act. Just as the Shunammite woman did, I hope that I can follow her example and open my heart and my home to those who flow through my life.

Publish Post

Ellen Anthony wrote a poetic essay based on the above passage entitled The Extra Room. The essay eloquently highlights the difficulties of creating an aura of hospitality both within our homes and within ourselves. It challenges us to continue growing, to become softer, and to consider how we interact with the people who pass through our lives. I would like to share parts of the essay with you. For the sake of brevity, I have not reproduced the entire essay.

I

A long time ago
someone in Shunem
built an extra room
on the roof of her house
for the holy one.

That's what I want to do.
I want to go up
to the roof of my house
where the sky starts
and make this room in case the holy one
needs a place to stay.

A table, a chair,
a bed and a candle.
I'll work on it
when I can,
weekends maybe
or before breakfast.

II

It's coming along.
I go up there,
work with what I have.
Some wood, some stone.
The chair and table
aren't hard to make
and I got a candle
from a friend.

But the bed is still stone.
And I know that isn't comfortable.

It's grey
and looks billowy from far off,
like a feather comforter,
but it's stone.

I put my hands on it,
on the faces of the stone.
Questions come up
all about work and what my life is for.
I answer what I can.

We're getting softer, I think,
but not yet a bed.

IV

Someone is waiting there
in that room upstairs.

Someone is dying.

Someone is holding the river
in their hands.
Someone is letting it go.

Someone is crying.

Someone is getting ready.

Someone wants to be softer than stone.

Who is waiting for me
in the extra room?

V

I go up,
open the door.

It's pretty much done.
The room.
All I can do anyway.

I sit in the chair.
Plain square chair.

Look at the table.
Flat relaxed wood.

Strike a match
to the wick of the candle,
see the light
pulling the walls into the glow,
corners going blurry.

Holy chair?
Holy table?
Holy candle, holy walls?
or just extra ones?
I sit in the extra chair
watching the extra walls
wondering if we're holy.

Over there
the stone is taking a long time becoming a bed.

So am I.

We will wait here together.

VI

I wonder what the Shunammite
went through.
Whether hospitality came easy to her
and if the furniture
knew itself right off.

I wonder what my extra room is for. Who will come
and whether it is holy
the way it is, empty.

IX

I go up there some days
and all the furniture is dead.
Even the wooden stuff
gone to stone on me.

I want to cry and I do cry
and the bed is no comfort to me.
Why? Why did the table and chair
come so easy and the bed so hard?
Is it about working and resting?
Easy to work but hard to rest?
The in-between time,
when nothing is happening,
can I rest in those?

I touch the old faces
of the stone. Someone is dying,
someone is crying, someone is trying
to become softer than stone.

XI

I don't know.
I usually don't know.

I touch the stone bed, kneeling,
and say I don't know
who is waiting or what will happen
from day to day in this extra room.
What my new life is
or when it will die on me.

But I have this extra room,
and I just know that I believe in it.
I believe in the extra room,
in making an extra room,
in the possibility of the holy one's coming,
in making new life, in its sometime dying,
and in constantly watching what sleeps there
as if I were ready for the sky
to come in over and over again without edges.

This place, this extra room,
is where I'm becoming
hollow and ample at the same time.

XII

I won't ask
what your extra room is like.
Or what went on
inside the Shunammite lady.
It's not for me to know other people's
private stuff.

But I want you to know
that when I say my extra room
is for the holy one,
it means you.
It means whoever
needs an extra room that night.
I can't guarantee
there won't be dead furniture
in there from time to time.
Or that the bed will be comfortable.
But if you ever need
an extra room to stay in,
a place where seeing and hearing
have no edges,
I have this place inside me now,
and you are welcome there.

Consider the following:

1. Do you have a sacred place to retreat? for your friends to retreat?
2. If not, where and with what could you begin to prepare such a space?
3. What do you want from your space?
4. For whom are you preparing your space?
5. What hospitality do you extend to others? to yourself?
6. How might your life be changed by having such a space?

May God give each of you grace and a place to stretch out your soul.

Lydia – A Pioneering Woman: Carving Out New Ways to Serve

Text: Acts 16: 11-15

I have always been drawn to the brief story of Lydia in the Book of Acts. For me, she is the picture of a modern woman and there is much we can learn from her. She was a busy woman who ran a business, was the head of a household, and still took time to gather with and to pray with other women. Spirituality was an important part of her life and she knew that powerful things happen when women pray together.

Last week I wrote about nurturing and taking time for yourself. Lydia was a woman that recognized the importance of this. In the midst of running a business and managing a household, she took the time to nurture her spiritual core through prayer and worship. She knew that gathering together with other praying women was a powerful way of connecting with God and with one another. It was at just such a gathering that Paul appeared, bringing his message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Lydia heard his message and became the first recorded Christian convert in Europe – by being the first, she set an example and pioneered the way for other woman to join the Christian community.

She pioneered the way not only by joining the fellowship of believers, but by making a generous offer to Paul and his colleagues. “If you consider me a believer in the Lord,” she said, “come and stay at my house.” Not only did she provide food and shelter for these missionaries, but she offered her house as a home church. Lydia stepped up and met a need. In a time that was dangerous to do so, she offered her home and her resources to advance a cause. Her leadership challenges us to consider ways that we can provide leadership in our own communities. We may not be business women or have her resources, but women everywhere start and nurture ministries, businesses, non-profits and more. We can do the same.

One of the most inspiring women I have known did just such a thing. After going through a nasty divorce, she found herself a single mom on welfare. She had no formal education and no money. But she did have a passion for helping children who were suffering the effects of divorce. With nothing more than a desire to help others, she approached a church with the idea of creating a program that would help children deal with their feelings following their parent’s divorce. What resulted was an enormously successful program that resulted in a safe place for children to vent their feelings, a program used by churches across the nation, a book, and financial independence. She combined her passion for ministry with her work and she followed Lydia’s example by using her resources, as limited as they were, to meet a need. She carved out not only a career and ministry, but an opportunity to live, thrive and make a living on her own God-given terms.

I would encourage you to unlock your minds and hearts and give some thought to your gifts and passions. How can you use your resources to meet a need? How can you create a career, a ministry and a way to thrive on your own God-given terms? Dream about ways you can carve out new categories of work and service. Then act on those dreams. How will you use your gifts and abilities to benefit not only others, but in the long run, yourself? It’s what Lydia did. We can, too.

Consider the following:

1. What opportunities do you have to join together with other women to pray?

2. Think of women who have served as pioneers for you. How have they paved the way for you? How have they inspired you?

3. How are you paving the way for other women?

4. What are your dreams? How can you carve out new opportunities for work and service?

If you would like to share any of your thoughts, I would love to hear them. Please feel free to leave me a comment.

A note to MVS – Lydia’s House. The dream lives!

Take care of yourself: In case of emergency, put your own oxygen mask on first

Have any of you ever really listened to the pre-flight instructions given by the flight attendant prior to departure? Personally, I hate to fly. It kind of scares me and listening to the flight attendant droll on about what to do when a plane crash is imminent does not inspire confidence. But on one particularly long flight I decided that I should listen to what they were saying. After all, if I was going down in the Atlantic, perhaps I really should know what to do.

There was one instruction that especially caught my attention. "Should the oxygen mask fall from the compartment above your head, put your own oxygen mask on first, and then help the others around you." You should take heed of this. Did you know that when the oxygen fails on a plane you only have seventeen seconds of air? Seventeen seconds, then you lose consciousness and are of no help to anyone.

Put your own mask on first. There is such wisdom in those few words. We must be willing to help ourselves if we want to help anyone else. Yet we do just the opposite. We spend so much time taking care of everyone else, that we frequently forget to take care of ourselves! We want to solve everyone else's problems and take on every volunteer opportunity offered to us. After all, don't we all want to be the star that shines the brightest?

I can't tell you the number of times that I have burned myself out by failing to put my own mask on first. It's easy to become so busy solving everyone else's problems that you ignore your own need for rest, restoration, and time away. And that easily leads to burn out, anger, and resentment. Our value does not lie in how many problems we solve on behalf of others. Our value emanates from the divine spark that God placed in each of us. That is the source of our inner light. But that light can easily be extinguished if we do not learn to be still, nurture ourselves, and listen to God.

Perhaps it's time that we all learn to nurture ourselves. And in so doing, we will better be able to help those around us. Discover and nurture you own inner light by treating yourself as kindly and with as much compassion as you do those around you. What would nurturing yourself look like? For me, putting on an oxygen mask involves photography, sitting quietly in my garden, and saying "no" to those projects I'm really not passionate about.

How about you? What would putting on your own mask first entail? Would you have a cup of hot tea in the morning before everyone else gets up? Would you have a quiet dinner with your best friend? Would you take time out for an early morning jog around the park? Make a list of ways that you can nurture yourself and start doing those things today.

May God who makes all things new, strengthen you and renew your spirit.

Resources: life is a verb by Patti Digh

I would love to hear some of the ways you go about nurturing yourself. If you would like to share some of your ideas, please leave a comment below.

Are you enjoying your world with childlike joy?

I hope you have been taking some time this week to look at your world with the eyes of a child. As a follow up to what I wrote last week, I would like to share with you two things I have experienced.

One of the things that brought joy to my cousin were butterflies. In fact, she hatched butterflies and they could always be seen flitting about her yard. For years I have tried and tried to attract butterflies to my yard and have never had much success. Now, every time I step into my backyard, I see butterflies fluttering about. I don't know if this is just an exceptional year for butterflies or what, but I am going to accept this gift as a message from God. I believe that He is telling me that just as the caterpillar breaks out of his cocoon and experiences new life as a beautiful butterfly, so my cousin is experiencing a beautiful new life with God. Seeing the butterflies brings me great comfort.

The other thing that I wanted to share with you comes straight off my list of childhood joys. Today while I was sitting and enjoying my backyard, I looked up to see dandelion hair floating across my backyard. Unable to contain myself, I jumped up, chased it all around the yard, and finally caught it! It was fun acting like a child! It brought a little laughter to my life.

I hope that wherever you are, you will take a few moments to enjoy your day and see the world with the eyes of a child.

I will post a new meditation on Thursday on discovering your inner light. See you Thursday!

Embracing Life With a Child-Like Wonder

Let me say how overwhelmed I have been by all the calls, emails, and comments left in response to my post. Your words of encouragement have meant a great deal to me. Indeed, I feel loved.

The loss of a loved one is never easy, yet it is something that we all must deal with at some point in our lives. All of this has caused me to think a great deal about those who have gone before me and about what their counsel would be regarding how to deal with loss. I particularly seem to be able to hear my father's voice and he is telling me one thing - "Do what everyone has to do in the face of loss. Embrace life and go on living even while you greive and while you remember." So that is the task that I have set for myself this week. I will grieve and I will remember and I will honor those who have gone before me by EMBRACING LIFE! In capital letters!

As is often the case, whenever I want to learn how to approach life, I only have to observe the children around me. Children are so good at embracing life. All you have to do is take a walk around the block with a two year old to be reminded of this. My oldest son, Matt, was quite possibly the most exuberant child I ever knew. I will never forget one walk we took through the park when he was a toddler. As usual, he was ahead of me running at full speed when suddenly he came to a screeching halt, knelt down, carefully parted the blades of grass, and picked up a tiny pebble. He carefully placed the pebble in the palm of his hand and ran back to me exclaiming, "Look, Momma, see the pretty rock!" I will never forget the sight of his face, glowing with sheer wonder. Children notice everything; I don't even know how he saw the pebble buried in the grass. But he did and for him the world stopped as he discovered and shared this tiny bit of God's creation with me. He was embracing life fully and I am so thankful that he shared his joy with me.

Recently I came across a wonderful book that reminds us of the importance of embracing life. The book, by Patti Digh, is entitled life is a verb. I particularly enjoyed the story of one man who asked a group of five year olds how many of them could sing . As only five year olds can do, they all felt they were excellent singers and every hand shot up immediately! He asked how many could dance - he got the same response. Painters? All of them, of course!

Later, he visited a group of college students and asked the same questions. Sadly, this time no one raised their hands.

In response to this story, Patti Digh asked, "What happened in those years between five and eighteen, to our sense of joy and possibility and personal command of the universe?" Good question. I have to ask myself what happened to my personal command of my universe. At some point we mask ourselves and lose our self confidence. Maybe it's our fear of ridicule that causes us to wall ourselves off. Maybe it's our fear of appearing childish that prevents us from allowing ourselves to still be surprised by life. After all, what would others say if you were to run through the park shouting with glee when you spotted a pebble?

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could approach adult life with the same enthusiasm that children do? Just image it. "Hooray! A two hour meeting to review policy and procedure!" Well, maybe we don't have to go that far. But perhaps we can find a way to give voice to the astonishment and joy of our inner child. Why don't you join me this week in the following exercise.

1. Allow yourself to be inspired by the following texts:

Psalm 118:24

Proverbs 8: 30-31

2. Journal, think about, or share with a friend five things from your childhood that brought you to a screeching halt with a feeling of sheer joy. Close your eyes and recall how you felt when encountering these things.

For me, I would have to include butterflies, dandelions, sand dollars, fireflies, and oil tankers at sea. As a child I spent many joyous hours chasing colorful butterflies, blowing the "angel hair" from dandelions, feeling the sun on my shoulders while digging for sand dollars, trying to catch fireflies on a warm summer night, and wondering where the oil tankers were sailing (I was sure that my Uncle Norman was aboard one of the ships and was sailing from some exotic port to see me). Little else existed in the world when engaged in these activities. I felt nothing but awe, pure joy, and best of all there were no expectations as to how I should act in response to these experiences.

3. Journal, think about, or share with a friend five things in your adult world that would bring forth a shout of joy if you were not afraid of ridicule.

I am putting on my list laptop computers (aren't they amazing?), golden retrievers (they are so devoted), a really great handbag (need I say more?), my lemon zester (yes, my lemon zester!), and dandelions (still love to see angel hair floating through the air). Resolve to act like a five year old. Everytime you see one of the items on your list, say out loud, "Wow! A _______!" For me that would be, "WOW, A LEMON ZESTER!" If that is too embarrassing for you, then at least think it with as much enthusiasm as possible. Think it in CAPITAL LETTERS! This week remember what it is like to be a child. Embrace life with child-like wonder!

My blessing for you this week: May you journey to the place where joy and wonder are born. May you dwell there immersed in the joy of God's creation. May you come out dancing and live a life filled with wonder and delight!

I hope some of you will take the time to share your "joy lists" with the rest of us. I would love to know what brings joy into your life. If you would like to do so, please add them as a comment below.

Thanks for taking the time to forward this link to your family and friends. My post last week was read by people as far away as Canada and Indonesia! Let's see if we can keep the momentum going.

God bless each of you. My life is better because of you. I'll post again next week.

"You will call, won't you?" - Dealing with the suicide of a loved one

Opening: God, I pray that you would use me to reach out to others in pain. May my ears be opened to hear when others cry out for help. May my presence be a balm to their wounds. Give me the strength and the courage, O Lord, to look into the faces of those whose hearts ache, to touch their lives, and to show them something of your love and mercy.

Text: John 12: 1-8

This week I have been thinking a great deal about how emotionally charged the sense of touch can be. The sense of touch is powerful. So much emotion can be conveyed through touch – an angry slap, a loving caress, a reassuring squeeze of the hand. People yearn to be touched, but how often do we turn away from those in need of that basic human connection. Often we are fearful when we see others in pain. We feel inadequate to help them because we do not know what to say; but perhaps we do not need to say anything. Sometimes a touch can convey to others what we are unable to say with our words.

I am reminded of John’s account of the woman who anointed Jesus with perfume. The crucifixion of Christ was imminent and he was aware of his fate. Though surrounded by friends and disciples, he must have felt an impending doom and a sense of loneliness. Those around him were busy and could not see his distress. They were taking care of the business at hand, preparing for the Passover meal and preparing for the upcoming celebration. Did any of them take the time to look into his face and see that he was suffering?

I believe that one woman did. Her name was Mary, the sister of Lazarus and Martha. Mary, the woman Jesus had once lauded for knowing when to set aside the busyness of life in order to focus on His word. (Luke 10: 38-42) Mary had her priorities right, she was able to discern Jesus’ need and to reach out and touch his life.

Picture this scene. Jesus has approximately two days left to live. He is in the home of his friend Lazarus where a dinner is being given in his honor. Martha is busy in the kitchen preparing the meal. Lazarus is reclining at the table with the other male guests. Of everyone present, it is only Mary that steps out of the shadow to acknowledge what Jesus is facing. She steps forward with a pint of pure nard (expensive fragrance imported from India), pours it on Jesus’ feet and wipes his feet with her hair. The amount of fragrance used was worth a year’s wages. Judas loudly rebukes Mary for her extravagance, but Jesus defends her telling the others, “It was intended that she should save this perfume for my burial…You will not always have me with you.” (John 12: 7-8)

Only Mary had the courage to reach out and touch Jesus in his hour of need. She alone seemed to know who Jesus was and what he needed. By reaching out and touching him, she acknowledged his pain and was willing to share it. She became a balm to his wounds. Her action did not save his life, but she was able to bring some comfort to a suffering Jesus who was facing a fate that no one else understood.

This story has been on my mind this week for a reason. Two weeks ago, my precious cousin committed suicide. I have spent a great deal of time contemplating the timing of her action, killing herself on the Wednesday before Easter. Some sources that I have studied state that the anointing of Jesus by Mary occurred on the Wednesday before Easter. I can imagine that my cousin may have spent time contemplating her death and yearning for someone to reach out, touch her life, and acknowledge her pain. I believe that she wanted to be resurrected, to have a new life and to feel alive. But for whatever reason she could not go on. I imagine that, misguidedly, she felt that the only way she could resurrect her life was through death. I will never know what led to that fateful decision. But I do know this. I had an opportunity to make a difference in her life and regrettably, I did not.

I last saw my cousin about two and a half months before her death. It was at her Mother’s funeral and as I was leaving I asked to verify her phone number. She wrote the number down for me and as she handed it to me she looked me in the eye and said, “You will call, won’t you?” I told her that of course I would call and that we would get together soon for lunch or dinner. Every week after that I reminded myself that I needed to call her and promised myself that I would do so as soon as the kids were out of school, or track season was over, or ____________ (you fill in the blank). I never did call. I was too wrapped up in my own busyness to hear the desperation in her voice or see the pain in her eyes.

I understand on an intellectual level that I am not responsible for her suicide. But the fact remains that I could have made a difference in her life and I did not. Like Mary, my actions may not have changed her outcome, but my words, my touch, my companionship might have brought her some comfort. She may have felt less alone. I will forever regret that her last minutes were spent talking to a stranger on a 911 call than with someone who loved her and knew her.

I hope that you will never have the same regrets. If you know someone who is hurting, set aside your busyness, reach out to them and touch their life. And if you are the someone who is hurting, I pray that you will reach out and let someone know. I pray that someone will take the time to be a healing balm to you.

May God bless you all.

Reflection: Take a few moments and contemplate, journal, or share with another the following:

Whose hands have touched your life and brought you healing? Take the time to thank them for their act of loving kindness.

To whom can you reach out with a healing touch? Do so today. Have the courage to touch, to love and to heal. Embrace pain with compassion.

Closing: O God, move in us in a powerful way. Help us to find the words to touch the lives of others. May our actions be like a bit of oil to anoint others. May our actions help to heal their wounds. Amen.

Resources:

Sacred Journeys: A Woman's Book of Daily Prayer by Jan L. Richardson
Do What You Have the Power to Do by Helen Bruch Pearson


A note from me: I hope you will join me each week as I share some of my thoughts with you. Some weeks my thoughts may be based on something I have read in Scripture and some weeks it may be based on something else. But in the end, I hope my words may uplift you and make a difference in your life.

Your comments are welcome.