I met with a friend recently who was suffering from a crushed spirit. The reason? He was alone. There were few people in his life who were willing to help carry his particular heartfelt burden. My soul ached for him. When we got together to discuss his dilemma, my plan was to offer what I had: compassion and hope. To my disappointment however, he wasn’t interested in either. Instead, he commenced in telling me how his knowledge of the facts around his quandary should be enough to get him through.
Relying on knowledge was his ruin. Continue reading
Like most authors, my goal as a writer is to weave words into a beautiful tapestry; thoughts that take the reader’s breath away. To do this, I grab time when I can. While doing laundry or cooking dinner … or instead of doing laundry or cooking dinner.
But when I see it happen–when I read a piece that tightens my chest and stays with me for days–I know I’m in the presence of brilliance and need to share it with the world. That happens many times when I read Lori Roeleveld’s work.
Check out her latest piece. Find out why writers write.
This may help those who live with writers understand why their clothes may still be in the hamper or their dinners periodically get burnt.
Thank you Lori.
The value of words is immeasurable. They shape our lives and determine how we see the world around us. Because of their power, we need to monitor what we hear and read—and think. Christians tap into specific words of power and comfort.
Blessed. Redeemed. Forgiven.
Because of the power in words, it’s imperative for Christ followers to be on our guard against damaging words. Satan wants to destroy the lives of Christians, often using our own words against us.
Loser. Unworthy. Ashamed.
Stop the madness! Don’t let these words find residence in your heart. We all have past experiences that helped we’d wish weren’t there, but we can control which experiences define us.
Our redemption is our greatest gift. Not only does it free us from the weight of an eternity of torment, it gives us a vehicle to help others. Continue reading
J. G. Gilbert & Robin Gilbert Luftig at Lake Lavine, MI, Summer 1958
Even though my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional, one of my favorite pastimes, when I’m feeling a bit low, is to remember stories about my dad and how he honored my feelings and held them close to his heart.
I always jumped at the chance to be with Dad in his room—the Gun Room. It was a treat to steal away with him when he went upstairs to his room. He kept guns, cameras, family photos and film equipment, and special sentimental pieces from his childhood there. I am certain he kept us out for our own protection when it came to the guns. We were all told the only time we were allowed to go in there by ourselves was if the house was on fire and we could safely get the family’s 8mm films out and save them from being destroyed. Other than that, the Gun Room was strictly off limits. Whenever I saw him in there, I would beg to join him. And he always obliged. While he worked away on whatever project he was concentrating on, I looked around his private sanctuary with marvel. I would fold my arms behind my back holding tightly on to my wrists, just to make sure I did not touch anything. I did not want to run the risk of inadvertently grabbing for something and causing harm.
Mother’s Day is not always filled with cards and sunshine. Sometimes it’s accompanied with a heavy heart. Guest blogger Tammy Treat-Boyne knows all too well of the pain that accompanies celebration.
As Mother’s Day approaches I am brought back to my memories of a missing puzzle piece of my heart. I have buried a child. No parent should go through this. Friends tried to placate me with the 23rd Psalm and words of “she is not in pain anymore”. That did not help this grieving mother.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil” Psalm 23:4a (NKJV)
I was there all right. In the valley and I was angry, sad and disappointed.
Six years ago, on April 11, 2011, my trust in I AM was put to the test. It wasn’t God who was tested, but me.
Six years ago I heard God’s spirit speak to my heart, “Do you trust Me”. I had no idea that after my brain surgery I’d wake up … know my husband and children … and have a productive life. I didn’t even know if I’d wake up at all.
But I did, and Life has been glorious ever since.