Moving Day

Just wanted my faithful followers to know that I will be moving my blog to www.phillipsandphillipsmusic.com. I hope you will stop by and drop me a note. I love hearing from you. Thank you for following my blog.

Dixie

Dirty Feet

In this fast paced world, jam packed with busy schedules and looming deadlines, I often find my restless soul desiring to sit quietly at my Lord’s feet. In the Bible we find many people at His feet. Some folks had desperate needs, but there were others who just wanted to worship Him.



Let’s take a quick look at some of the ones the Bible mentions who could be found at the feet of Jesus. There was:

ü  The afflicted father—

Then one of the synagogue leaders, named Jairus, came, and when he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet. Mark 5:22 NIV

ü  A sorrowing mother—

In fact, as soon as she heard about him, a woman whose little daughter was possessed by an impure spirit came and fell at his feet. Mark 7:25 NIV

ü  A sinful woman—

A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. Luke 7:37-38 NIV

ü  A healed demoniac—

….and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone out, sitting at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. Luke 8:35 NIV

ü  A seeker of Truth—

She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. Luke 10:39 NIV

ü  A bereaved sister—

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” John 11:32 NIV

ü  Unfortunate sufferers—

Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed them. Matthew 15:30 NIV

ü   A reverent worshipper—

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. Revelation 1:17 NIV

All of these stories are so refreshing, but there’s another story mentioned in God’s Word that exemplifies the humility of Christ. I’m sure you remember when Jesus washed His disciples’ feet.

It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. John 13:1-5 NIV

There are many days I fall short and my feet get dusty, but every time I sit at Jesus’ feet, I find Him washing my dirty feet. His sweet voice pleads, “Don’t nurse that grudge. Give it to Me. Oh, please don’t get too attached to the temporal that you lose sight of the eternal.”



I believe Jesus still washes His disciples’ feet today, but we first—we must sit at His feet.

Floating Hearts

Has your heart ever been so heavy you thought it would never beat again?

This week as I read the story of Prophet Elisha and the floating ax head, the Holy Spirit breathed fresh life into a familiar story.

As one man was cutting down a tree, the head of his ax fell into the water. He yelled, "Oh, my master! I borrowed that ax!"

Elisha asked, "Where did it fall?" The man showed him the place. Then Elisha cut down a stick and threw it into the water, and it made the iron head float. Elisha said, "Pick up the ax head." Then the man reached out and took it. 2 Kings 6:5-7 NCV

In Elisha’s day an ax was a necessary tool for survival. Can you imagine the horror the man felt when the borrowed ax head plunged into the water? He knew it was probably gone forever, but Elisha had a plan and in a matter of moments the iron ax head was floating on top of the water. I’m sure relief flooded over the man’s heart as he snatched it up. The lost had been found!



Jesus cares about the everyday ax head situations in our lives. He has provided godly leaders who love and support us when we are drowning in suffocating circumstances. Our shepherds lead us to the foot of the Cross, where the presence of the Lord has lifting power. The Holy Spirit comforts and strengthens us so we don’t have to live “under” the difficult circumstances of life.



Burdened hearts are heavier than iron ax heads, but when one tiny sliver of Calvary's cross is inserted in a bleeding heart, it can rise with our Savior’s resurrection life and beat again.



Be encouraged today. The God of Elisha is your God, too.

Little People

We’ve all experienced it. We’re reading a familiar Bible story, and suddenly the words leap off the page and scream, “This is for you! Yes, you!”

I recently had this experience with the beautiful story of Naaman and the little maid found in 2 Kings 5.

Naaman was a powerful Assyrian leader with a deadly flaw. He had leprosy, a disease that did not discriminate. Even though he was a man in a position of political power and influence, he was susceptible to a common man’s illness.

A little servant girl of Naaman’s wife had the courage to share about Elisha’s power to heal the sick.

So Naaman took a road trip to meet Elisha.

Elisha gave specific instructions for Naaman’s healing. “Go dip in the Jordan River seven times.”

Naaman’s response showed the condition of his heart. He felt he was too important to dip in the muddy Jordan.

Fortunately, Naaman had a wise servant. His counsel was able to put the situation into the proper perspective. “Sir, if the prophet had told you to do some great feat, you would have done it. Now why can't you just wash yourself, as he said, and be cured?”

The servant’s words made sense to Naaman. He obeyed Elisha’s command and was completely healed.

Life application for us:

Many of us feel God has called us to serve, but when lowly service is presented, we respond like Naaman. “I refuse to dip into the muddy Jordan. This is not what I expected ministry to look like.”

But then the Holy Spirit, like Naaman’s faithful servant, responds, “If the Lord had told you to do some great feat, you would have done it. Can you do this little deed for Me?”

I meet people who insist, “God has called me to write.” But when the writing assignments are not huge book contracts, they refuse to write.

How can we solve this problem? I believe it’s an easy fix.

For those who feel the Lord is calling them into ministry:

Begin serving where you are. Don’t let what appears to be lowly service stop you from being a blessing. Remember that even a cup of water given in our Savior’s name will receive a reward one day.

For those who feel called to write for the Lord:

Start writing where you are. God has miraculous ways of getting your writing to the exact places He wants it to be.

The longer I live I am more convinced that God uses “little” people to do “big” things for God. The “biggest” people in God’s kingdom are those who stay “small” in their own eyes.

Will you be like the little maid and let the Lord use you today?

Operation Cinderella

Two years ago our son John married Natasha Stamman. Our beautiful daughter-in-law has been a wonderful addition to our family and a loving wife for John. Natasha’s father and his wife founded Impact Ministries International, a ministry for orphans and the poor of the world.

Last week I went on a missions trip to Honduras with John and Natasha. During the day we mainly camped out at an orphanage in Comayagua and in the evening we attended special church services, supporting local pastors and their ministries. On Sunday, we distributed food and clothing to the poorest of the poor in Honduras. Hundreds of needy souls stood in line for a bar of soap, used clothing, and a bag of rice, corn, and beans.

                                                           Selina's old shoes.....

Selina and Dixie

During the distribution a little girl named Selina came up to me holding a shabby shoe in her hand. She said something in Spanish and I knew she was asking for a new pair of shoes. We had just distributed the last pair. My eyes filled with tears when I told her there were no more shoes. She was devastated, but slipped her foot back into her pitiful shoe. In that moment I realized her foot was about the same size as mine. I kicked off my white flip-flops and gave them to her. She smiled and hugged me tightly. We said our goodbyes and I never expected to see her again because she wasn’t part of the orphanage and didn’t live in Comayagua.

The next night we drove to church. I looked over the large crowd and whispered a prayer for Selina. As we hurried to find a seat, I felt a little tap on my arm. I turned and to see who was wanting my attention. “Selina!”

She pointed at her feet.

“You’re wearing the flip-flops. They look so nice!” I threw my arms around her neck.

Selina linked her arm in mine throughout the praise and worship. Our hearts were cemented together despite our language barriers.

That night when we returned to our motel room, Natasha, John, and I couldn’t stop talking about how a simple pair of flip-flops could bring so much joy to a little girl.

The next evening Natasha and I attended a special women’s meeting. After the service a woman came up to me with a huge smile plastered on her face. She kissed me on the cheek and said something in Spanish.

I shrugged and shook my head. “No, hablo español.”

Selina's Mother at Ladies Night

She pointed to her feet. I squealed when I recognized the flip-flops. I motioned for our interpreter. “What is she saying?”

Angelica, our interpreter, replied, “She said that she is Selina’s mother and Selina let her borrow the new flip-flops so she could attend the special meeting tonight.”

As I returned to my motel room, I couldn’t help but think how it really is the little things in life that can make huge differences in the lives of the poor. May we all find some way to bless those in need today. I also learned that Cinderella isn’t the only one whose life can be changed by a pair of shoes.

If you stop your ears to the cries of the poor, your cries will go unheard, unanswered. Proverbs 21:13 MSG

'68 Tornado

Many times people ask, “How do you know what to write about?”



My response is always the same. “I mostly write about my personal experiences.”



You cannot “make up” your life’s story. God can use your story to encourage others.



I want to share my own personal story of an event that made our little town in northern Iowa make national news on May 15, 1968.



I was in fifth grade at McKinley Elementary School. Because of some family issues, I was living with my paternal grandparents on their farm. My two older brothers Bob and Ken were living at our parents' home in Charles City.



May 15, 1968 was a huge day for the fifth and sixth graders of Charles City. The annual grade school track meet, which started at noon with a picnic, followed by some friendly track competition, was held that day. After the students gobbled down their sack lunch, the track meet began on the College Grounds. Five grade schools, Lincoln, Jefferson, Central, McKinley and Washington Elementary were represented. Little did we realize in a few short hours three of those schools would be demolished. (Central, McKinley and Washington were destroyed. Central and McKinley would never reopen.)



My friend Nancy and I were overjoyed that McKinley had won the track meet. She invited me over to her house for a few hours after the track meet. When my grandmother came to pick me up, she noticed I had lost one of my brand new socks.



I rummaged through my bag. "I must have lost it when I changed into my track clothes!"



Grandma was very frugal and thought we better retrace my steps and see if we couldn't find the mate to my "widowed" sock. We backtracked from my friend's house to the College Grounds, but didn't have any luck in finding the sock









On the way home, when we got to the fairgrounds’ corner, (above is actual picture of a view of the '68 tornado from the fairgrounds’ corner) I noticed Grandma was very quiet. I thought she was upset with me for losing my sock, but then I noticed she was preoccupied with looking out the car window at the dark sky.



I tried to lighten the mood and jabbered on and on about the track meet and the visit at my friend's house. Grandma stayed focused and picked up speed in an attempt to hurry home.



When we pulled in the driveway, Grandma spoke sternly, "I'm only going to say this once. You go get your dog, head straight to the basement, and sit under the big table in the corner. Don't come up until I call you. Do you understand?"



I nodded my head, hopped out of the car, and whistled for my dog. Ginger came running and jumped in my arms.



"Get in that basement now!" Grandma ordered.



I galloped down the steps, clutching Ginger tightly. We hid under the table just like Grandma had instructed. I remember crying and praying out loud. "Please keep us all safe. Don't let anything happen to Grandma and Grandpa!"



After a few minutes, Grandma called down the stairs. "The storm has passed. Come on up and help me get ready for supper."



When we sat down to eat, my stomach was still in knots. I remember it was difficult to eat and then we were startled when the doorbell rang. A neighbor man bolted into the house before Grandma or Grandpa had a chance to answer the door. His voice was frantic, "Charles City has been hit by a tornado! The whole town has been wiped out!"



My heart beat wildly in my chest. "What about Mom and Dad and Bobby and Kenny?"



Grandma looked up at Grandpa and said, "We need to head to town now!"



My grandmother was an immaculate housekeeper. She did something that I'd never seen her do. She left all the supper dishes and food on the table. “We’ll clean the supper dishes when we get home. Dixie, go grab some of your favorite books. We might be waiting in the car for a while."



Grandpa was met with a friendly policeman when he stopped his car near the city limits. "Nobody is allowed inside the city limits unless you live there."
 
 
 
Grandpa pointed at me sitting in the back and explained the situation. "Her parents and brothers live in town."



The policeman looked at me. "I'm sorry. But there are live wires down on the ground. People have been killed by the storm. I can't allow you to go any further."



When Grandpa turned his car around, found a gravel road, and turned off the ignition. "I’ve got to see if Bobby and Kenny are all right. They might need me.”



I peered through the crack of the car door and watched Grandpa as he laced up his boots.



"John, be careful. You heard what they said about those live wires." Grandma's voice trembled.



"I will.  Let's pray." Grandpa closed his eyes. "Lord, guide my steps. Help me find those boys."



Grandma and I sat in silence watching Grandpa as he trudged toward town. Finally, Grandma said, "Dixie, pick out a book and we'll read it together."



Several hours later, Grandpa returned. "Bobby and Kenny are safe. They hid under a bridge and saw the tornado hit. Our family is safe, but much of the town was gone.

Later I learned that my elementary school (see building in the right of above photos) was hit and school was dismissed for the rest of the school year.



A violent F5 tornado tore a 1/2 mile wide path through the town from south to north, killing 13 people, injuring 450 others, and caused $30 million damage. In town, 372 homes and 58 businesses were destroyed, 188 homes and 90 businesses sustained major damage, and 356 homes and 46 businesses sustained minor damage. Eight churches, 3 schools were damaged or destroyed, the police station was heavily damaged, and 1250 vehicles were destroyed.



I've never forgotten the day a tornado hit our little town and changed our lives forever.

SOAR!

Then Pharaoh gave this order to all his people:
“Every Hebrew boy that is born you must throw into the Nile.”
Exodus 1:22 NIV

I love the biblical account of Moses when he was an infant. Satan conjured up a plan to kill him, but God was watching over him. Jehovah gave Moses’ mother a creative plan to save her baby’s life. She wove a basket out of bulrushes, tucked her baby boy inside, placed him in the Nile River, and assigned his big sister to keep an eye on him.

When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch.
Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds
along the bank of the Nile. His sister stood at a distance
to see what would happen to him.
Exodus 2:2-4 NIV

Even though Moses was a “basket case,” he grew into a mighty man of God and was handpicked by Jehovah to deliver the Israelites from the land of bondage.

My husband and I have been in fulltime ministry for more than 30 years. We have seen firsthand the enemy sabotage ministries in their infancy. We’ve stood in the gap with those God has called and rejoiced with them as they fulfill their divine destiny, but our hearts have been broken when others have allowed the enemy to snuff out a new ministry God has called them to birth for the Kingdom.

I would like to speak directly to those of you who sense the Lord is calling you to “birth” a writing or songwriting ministry. Here is an acrostic with some helpful hints to help your new ministry S.O.A.R.

S-Seek God for wisdom as you birth this new ministry.

O-Offer your gifts and talents to the Lord with a humble heart.

A-Admit when you need help and don’t be afraid to seek counsel from godly mentors.

R-Refuse to allow the enemy to destroy what God is birthing in your life and ministry at this time.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy;
I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
John 10:10 NIV

Never be shocked by the devil’s tactics. His goal is to destroy your ministry in its infancy. Remember the story of Moses. May God use your pen to lead souls out of bondage. Soar for Jesus today!

Something Beautiful

I was not raised in a Christian home, but had godly grandmothers, who poured God’s truths into my life. They were polar opposites doctrinally, but their love for me forced them to leave their spiritual "guns" at the door.

Life at home was difficult. My parents' unhappy marriage permeated every aspect of our home, which left me with some deep insecurities and deep hurts.

After I graduated from high school in 1975, my father's cousin and his wife took an interest in my life. They quickly picked up on my love for southern gospel music and purchased a ticket for me to attend a Gaither Trio concert in Oklahoma City. I was thrilled to get to see Bill, Gloria, and Danny Gaither perform live.

Henry and Hazel Slaughter started the evening off. Toes were tapping and hands were clapping to their lively tunes. After several songs, The Gaither Trio finally appeared. I don't remember many of the songs they sang that night except one - "Something Beautiful." The lyrics were so simple yet so profound.

Something beautiful. Something good.
All my confusion He understood.
All I had to offer Him was brokeness and strife,
But He made something beautiful of my life.


The Holy Spirit ministered to me that night in a way I had never experienced before. For the first time in my life, I sensed that God had a plan and purpose for my life. He wasn't going to waste one bit of my pain, but He would make "Something Beautiful" of my life.

That experience was almost 40 years ago. My husband and I have been married for 35 years and we have been honored to serve the congregation of the Gospel Lighthouse Church & Academy for more than 30 years. I am the mother of four married children and four adorable grandbabies. God fulfilled His promise. He made "Something Beautiful" of my life.

This past weekend I was able to meet one of my heroes - Gloria Gaither at her Songwriting Intensive in Alexandria, Indiana. It was a rich, full circle moment for me.

I wonder how many other lives have been changed forever when they heard the anointed lyrics of "Something Beautiful?"

As a writer, there have been times I've allowed the enemy of my soul to convince me that what I have written doesn't matter. Creative souls are usually ultra-sensitive and can become easily discouraged. We must be wise to Satan's tactics and not allow him to dishearten us. We never know when our words bring hope to the hopeless.

Keep writing for Jesus.

Rock on a Fence Post

Paul and I will celebrate our 35^th wedding anniversary this year. We can hardly believe it. I often tease, “How can we be married 35 years when we aren’t even 30 years old?”

Paul is a country preacher. His sermons and life are filled with humility and simplicity. Each day as he leads our family and congregation with a servant’s heart, you can’t help but notice his authenticity. I guess that’s why the Gospel Lighthouse Church in Floyd, Iowa, has kept him as pastor for 31 years.

When Paul and I take little drives through Iowa’s country roads, we’ve often spied a rock on a fence post. Without fail, Paul replies, “You know that rock didn’t get there by itself.”

It’s so true. Many of the blessings and successes the Lord brings our way have come through others. The Lord brings people into our lives, establishing precious eternal friendships that the gates of hell cannot prevail against. As Christians, we should rejoice every day at the faithfulness of our Lord. He knows our phone number and where we live. He is in the business of making divine connections for His children.

In my own life as a writer, I reflect often on my own “rock on a fence post” experiences. Working with a precious team of writers at Christian Editing Services has been a tremendous blessing in my life. The writing assignments I have been given through C.E.S. have led me to amazing people and doors of opportunity I would not otherwise have had.

The next time you spot a rock on a fence post, take time to thank the Lord for all the divine connections He is making for you. Trust Him to work behind the scenes with your writing. He will give your stories wings and send them to wherever they are supposed to go. Just be sure to remember when you arrive at your divine destination to give God the glory and appreciate the precious friends He sent to help you along the way, because you didn't get there by yourself.

"The Cat Came Back" is here!

We are proud to announce....

Drum roll please.....

Tada.....

Guardian Angel Publishing has released "The Cat Came Back!"

Send Me

And then I heard the voice of the Master: "Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?" I spoke up, "I'll go. Send me!" (Isaiah 6:8 MSG)

For Christian writers, there usually is a point in time when they sensed God calling them to write. Sometimes answering the call isn’t always easy. There are disappointments and obstacles to overcome.

When the prophet Isaiah was young, he made excuses and tried to ignore the call, but an encounter with Jehovah caused him to change his mind. The mighty prophet served four kings and penned one the most beautiful Old Testament books, full of hope and proclaiming the coming of the Messiah.

Have you ever thought of what might have happened if Isaiah had neglected the call? If the Scriptures that have comforted God’s people down through the ages had not been written? It’s a sobering thought, isn’t it?

None of us claim to be “Isaiah,” or even close to the anointed prophet, but God still has some writing assignments for those He has called. Some days we must dust off our keyboards in faith because we don’t feel like we have anything to say, but our heavenly Father sees things differently. His ways are higher than our ways. Our Father believes we have a story to tell. That is why He has called us to write.

Let’s raise our pens in faith and believe God will help us write stories that bring glory and honor to Him.

And when we hear the voice of the Master, "Whom shall I send? Who will write for Me?" . . . We can answer, "I'll go. Send me!"

Writing for Little Ones

Some of my new friends have been asking me how many children’s books I have available and where they can purchase a copy. I thought I would dedicate today’s blog to answering their questions and share a little blurb about my children’s books.

Here is a list of my published stories.

Angel Eyes

Angel Eyes is a perfect story to read to the little ones in your life during Easter. Children’s hearts will be challenged and changed as they read about two cherubs, Kennedy and Tristan. These two charming cherubs help children understand what the angels might have felt when Jesus came to Earth and was crucified.

Stubby’s Destiny

Stubby’s Destiny is an inspirational story about a defeated donkey, Stubby, who feels he was born wrong. He was just about to give up when divine destiny tapped him on the shoulder. He was chosen to carry the King of Kings upon his back. Stubby’s Destiny will bring hope to hurting children who feel their situation is hopeless.

One Noble Journey

Two cultures collide in the tiny village of Westbury. The orphan from the lowlands and the Count's daughter from the highlands and a baby raccoon will entertain the hearts of all and is guaranteed to shape small souls.

Baby Jesus is Missing

The annual Christmas decorating contest left no room for Jesus until little Josiah Carr teaches his mommy and daddy the true spirit of Christmas is finding Jesus. This captivating story is guaranteed to warm the coldest heart and become a Christmas favorite for families everywhere.

Cinderfella and the Furry Godmother

Staci adores her new puppy but she starts singing her own rendition of the birthday blues when she keeps forgetting to water her pet. Smiles will be transplanted on the faces of children and adults when they read this hilarious story together. Finally, a book that makes learning the art of responsible behavior fun!

Stilts the Stork

Plenty of chuckles will be delivered in this rhymed topsy-turvy adventure about a ditzy stork who adopts an orphaned “egg” she discovers on a golf course. Can a zany stork, who adopts an orphaned “egg” that she discovers on a golf course, deliver plenty of chuckles? Yes! This rhymed, topsy-turvy adventure is guaranteed to tickle your child’s funny bone. Anyone who can follow the antics of Stilts without a chortle or two is an odd bird indeed.

Apron Strings

Grandma Eleanor and Lexi are attached at the heart. For Lexi’s seventh birthday, Grandma Eleanor sews a beautiful apron for her. When her grandmother gets sick, Lexi is comforted by the heavenly clues she discovers in the treasured apron. This inspiration sensation is guaranteed to help mend broken hearts and shape small souls. Apron pattern included, too!

These books are available at www.guardianangelpublishing.com. In the near future, Guardian Angel Publishing will be releasing my newest books: Whistling Dixie, The Cat Came Back, and Livia the Super Hero.

I am very excited to announce that Guardian Angel Publishing has invited my sister-in-law and me to start a new line of Christian musicals for churches, homeschoolers, and Christian schools. We were thrilled when they released our very first Christmas musical—Camille’s Journey. This delightful drama was written by Lucy Robbins, Leslie Troyer, Sharon Phillips, and me.

Camille’s Journey is available at www.guardianangelpublishing too.  Here is a little blurb about it.

Camille’s Journey

Spend your Christmas with Camille, an orphaned camel, as she leads three zany wise men and their bossy camels to the newborn King in Bethlehem. Children of all ages will love this fun, easy-to-learn Christmas musical. Finally a drama guaranteed to warm the coldest heart.

Once upon an Empty Tomb

Sharon and I are pleased to announce that we also have a children’s Easter musical Once upon an Empty Tomb, which will be available in the near future from Guardian Angel Publishing.

I would like to thank each one of you for your loving support of my writing ministry.  

Keep Writing for the King

Now Laban had two daughters: the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah’s eyes were delicate, but Rachel was beautiful of form and appearance. Now Jacob loved Rachel; so he said, “I will serve you seven years for Rachel your younger daughter.”

And Laban said, “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to another man. Stay with me.” So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed only a few days to him because of the love he had for her.
Genesis 29:16-20 NKJV

Have you ever felt like the unwanted on or the unattractive one? Leah did. By birth, she was Rachel’s older sister, and by her father’s trickery and deceit, she was Jacob’s first wife. Can you imagine what she must have felt like when Jacob looked at her and realized she wasn’t Rachel, the one he was deeply in love with and had worked seven years for? I’m sure the rejection she felt stung to the bone.

God loved Leah and had a plan and destiny for her life. She bore Jacob six sons and one daughter. Levi was one of the boys born to Leah and Jacob. The priestly tribe came from this lineage. Judah was another son born to Leah and Jacob. King David came from the lineage of Judah—and so did Jesus Christ.

Your Father has a plan for you, too. You might feel others can write better and are having more success in their writing endeavors than you. Stay faithful. Keep writing. Don’t compare yourself with someone else. Be authentic. Be transparent. Be the one God created you to be. God has a destiny for you and your writing. You never know where He will send your stories. Keep writing for the King.

The Journals

January opened her journal and began to jot down her New Year’s resolutions: Attend church faithfully!

June opened her journal and wrote down the happenings of the week: Family’s here from up north. I was unable to attend church this month. Went boating with family. God understands. He knows that family is very important!

December opened her journal and scribbled down her thoughts for the past year: I can’t believe it! I went to church today and someone came up and asked me if I would fill out a visitor’s card! I know I’ve missed a few Sundays, but who do they think they are?

January opened her journal and jotted down her dreams for the coming year: Lord, I’m willing to be used however You see fit. Put me where You need me, Master!

June opened her journal and wrote down what happened that week: Pastor Paul asked me if I would help in the nursery at church. Now, that takes a lot of gall! Doesn’t he know that I am way too educated to be wiping noses and bottoms? I think the mothers of all those possessed urchins should take care of their own little monsters. That’s what’s wrong with mothers today. They expect others to do their dirty work. They don’t want to take care of their own. What’s the world coming to?

December opened her journal and scribbled down her thoughts for the past year: I am so sick and tired of Pastor Paul asking for volunteers at the church. I guess I need to type up a resume of jobs I will not do—I refuse to work in the nursery, teach Sunday school, clean the church, or visit the sick. I don’t want to catch anything. Why, can’t Pastor Paul see how valuable I am? What I would love to do is be in charge of a seminar. Oh yes, I could be up front and teach others about “servanthood.” Our church needs more servants.

January opened up her journal and began to jot down her goals for the New Year: Give above and beyond my tithe this year!

June opened up her journal and penciled in the budget for the week: The economy has plummeted.  Everything costs so much—Libby’s braces, Rachel’s college, health insurance! God gave me this great job to meet my needs. I know He’ll understand if I can’t give anything this week.

December opened up her journal and penned these words: The church treasurer gave us our yearly financial receipts for tax purposes. This can’t be right. According to this report I only gave God my pocket change. This sure doesn’t help me get much of a tax break!

January opened up her journal and jotted down her expectations for the next few months: Forgive those who have offended me!

June opened up her journal and began jotting down her thoughts: Who on earth does Lillie Williams think she is? Just because she inherited all those millions, she thinks she can just boss everybody around. Who died and made her queen?

December opened her journal groaning and moaning as she wrote: I cooked Lillie Williams’ goose today. I’ve informed all the ladies at Bible study about her ulterior motives in giving all that money to the church. She thinks I don’t know what she is up to. She’ll probably want the church named after her. I can see it now: Lillie’s Christian Center! It’s a good thing God has made me so discerning so I can warn the pastor about her. He is so gullible, always believing the best in people.

**

January slipped inside the sanctuary. She sat on the back pew between December and June.

“You guys, I read your journals.” January gasped, “I couldn’t believe my eyes!”

“We read yours, too, January.” June replied as December nodded, “Let’s face it we’re all a mess!”

“Pastor Paul said that’s why God sent us a “Mess-iah” to help us get out of our mess. We need some major help.” December grinned.

“Let’s get it right this time.” January pleaded.

December agreed. “Yeah, I’m tired of coming up short at the end of the year.”

June nodded. “Me too. I’m tired of spiritual summer slumps.”

“And I’m tired of end of the year burn out.” December cried.

January put her arms around her two companions and chuckled, “Time for a group hug.”

They all chimed together at the top of their voices in unison, “We must stay close to Jesus and not allow the devil to add pollution to our New Year's resolutions!”

The Bag that Faith Built

We live in an exciting era. Technology makes it possible for our story to go around the world in the click of a mouse.

I always encourage my writing friends to blog. The more we write, the better writers we will become, and blogging is an excellent writing exercise. Not only will we hone our writing skills, but God may use our words to inspire others.

Last week, our oldest daughter, Rachel, shared about her ectopic pregnancy on her blog. She and her husband were devastated when they lost their first child. Rachel doesn’t claim to be a “writer.” She’s just a young wife and mother sharing on her blog how God has been faithful to her. Her words brought comfort to many other women who read her blog and are facing their own difficulties. Rachel’s blog is a perfect example of how God can use our story to encourage someone.
I felt I was to share Rachel’s story with you today. I hope it will ignite the writing fire in you. So without further adieu, I would like to introduce you to our firstborn, Rachel Michelle Phillips Nolt.

The Bag that Faith Built

The year was 2008. I was at this dark place. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t rainbows. In fact, it was hard and yucky. There was pain like I had never experienced before. And I was crawling through it. Hardly holding on, struggling for each breath.

And then God sent my sister, Beka. We went out to eat, and while we were there she told me we were going to Wal-Mart, right across the street from where we were eating. Beka isn’t a Wal-Mart person so I really didn’t know what we were doing. We walked inside and she told me her plan. “We’re heading to the baby department and picking out a diaper bag. We’re going to fill it with baby clothes for your future baby.”

I raised my eyebrows and resisted her instructions. “I don’t know, Beka.”

She spoke in soothing tones. “Rachel, this is going to be your “faith bag.” Every time you see it, you’ll be reminded of hope for the future.”

Sounds fun, right? I’m not going to lie. It was hard. I was in excruciating emotional pain. And the pain didn’t ease as I went through the motions and picked out a bag. But then I chose two blue newborn outfits, and I felt my heart heal a little bit. A seed was planted, but when I got home I hid the bag. I couldn’t put the outfits in a cute dresser drawer and get excited for the growing baby inside my womb. Mine was gone . . . taken from me before I knew if my baby was a boy or girl. Gone before I ever held my little one in my arms. I was at a loss.

Months went by and I didn’t look at the bag. I forgot about it and walked through depression I had never experienced before. Months passed and I hadn’t conceived. Everyone else was having a baby, but my womb was empty, painfully empty.

Finally, nine long months later, I was pregnant. I dug out the bag from the bottom of my closet. When I opened it, I wept. In my faith bag were the two winter newborn outfits. And here I was, pregnant with a little one who would need newborn winter outfits.

Easton Paul was born and fit perfectly in his little “faith” outfit. Every time he wore the outfit, I was reminded how God turned my sorrow into joy. Not only was my baby boy growing, but my faith was growing as well.

Seventeen months after Easton’s birth came Lincoln Hunter. Joy filled my heart when I stuffed our ten pound newborn baby boy in the “faith” outfit.

In the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about that little outfit and how it will be a keepsake and reminder of God’s faithfulness. God used my “faith” bag to build faith in me. As I look back, I realize the first time I picked out the outfit a healing process began. I didn’t realize it completely because I was in so much pain. But slowly, ever so slowly, that little seed of faith was growing. But sometimes faith has a way of staying hidden and quiet. It shows itself at times and hides when you think it’s completely lost.

With Easton Paul, my faith was growing. I still had fears and sorrow, but my faith was stronger.

Then when I saw Lincoln wear the little outfit, something in my heart screamed, “I’m free!”

Will trials come? Yep. Do I want them to? Nope. They are not fun. But I know my Redeemer lives.
And He works when we don’t think He is working. He’s planting tiny seeds of faith in our lives. We can trust Him fully because He is wholly true.

So if you are facing sorrow today, go out and buy yourself a bag and fill it full of faith.
Years later, your heart will sing! Great is His faithfulness!

The babies in the faith outfit . . .

Lincoln Hunter

Easton Paul

 

Write On

I will never forget a little poem I learned many years ago.

Two natures lie within my breast.
One is foul and one is blessed.
One I love and one I hate.
The one I feed will dominate.

At the first reading of this thought-provoking poem, we could think of many fleshly desires we might feed on that would take us for a walk down the darker side of life, but I want to visit with those of you who feel called to write in small and big ways, but insecurity and fear of failure have kept you from wielding your pen for Jesus.

Satan will make a punching bag out of anyone who will entertain his lies. Here are a few of his tormenting thoughts that can hinder you from writing for the Lord.

Who do you think you are? You can’t write. You have no education.

Nobody wants to hear what you have to say.

Stop dreaming. God will never allow your dreams to come true.

If we “feed” these negative thoughts, they will dominate and we will never write for the Lord.

I would like to take the time to dispel some of Satan’s myths.

Who do you think you are? You can’t write. You have no education.

”I am a child of the living God.” The Bible doesn’t say we have to be proficient in writing to share what the Lord has done for us. Most of the disciples were uneducated and unlearned men, but Jesus chose them and used them to turn the world upside down.

Nobody wants to hear what you have to say.

Satan is the one who doesn’t want to hear what you have to share. He doesn’t want to hear how the Lord has touched your life. He is the one who wants to give you a fatal case of “lockjaw.” Jesus wants you to “go and tell”what He has done for you. So others can come to know Him too.

Stop dreaming. God will never allow your dreams to come true.

It’s true that sometimes our dreams can be full of selfish ambition. God has His ways of giving us a reality check when that happens, but there are other times when, like Joseph, God births a dream inside of us. He has adivine plan and purpose for those dreams to come true. Don’t be afraid to dream big for Jesus.

There are numerous ways we can write for the Lord. We don’t have to write a novel or text book. Let’s look at some of the ways God could use us.

Are you a Deborah with a gift of wisdom for counseling? Share your wisdom in a blog, short story, or letter to a friend.

Maybe God has raised you up like Daniel and He wants to have you take a firm stand and write letters to the editor of your local newspaper or politicians. Let God use your words so right can win over might!

Are you like Mary and Martha with a gift of organization or hospitality? Share your recipes and creative ideas with others. Simple tips can help make life better for others.

Are you a David with songs welling up in your heart? Keep a journal of those songs. Share them at a nursing home or with your church. Your song can minister to a hurting soul.

May we never forget that God gave a “little” Jesus to a hurting world. Let’s give a “little” Jesus to someone today. Your story can make life sweeter for someone in a bitter trial. In Jesus’ name we write on!

Landmarks

I am directionally challenged. I openly admit it. Take me to a new part of the country and I struggle to figure out north from south and east from west. I’ve learned to limp along with my “disability,” but I’ve also discovered if someone gives me a landmark I can usually find my way anywhere.

 Did you know we have spiritual landmarks too? Defining moments in our lives that help us find our way through the darkest places of life.

In 2008, our family faced a crisis. My husband was dying. He needed a kidney transplant to live. Fear terrorized me. The “what ifs” plagued me until I found some “landmarks.” Many times it was the Word of God. Other times, the Holy Spirit spoke into the depths of my soul.

I would like to share one of my spiritual “landmarks” with you. I wrote this piece in the midst of the storm. I pray it helps someone groping in the night find their way.

Mary Was the First One to Carry the Gospel

“If we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot disown himself.” 2 Timothy 2:13 NIV

My husband has been battling chronic kidney failure for the past twenty-five years. It’s a silent killer and doesn’t have many symptoms until the final stages. This year the disease has progressed to a critical point, and in order to keep him alive, he will need to go on dialysis or have a kidney transplant in the very near future. Many unknowns loom on the horizon.

We have labored together for the Kingdom for 30 years. We met at East Texas Bible College in 1976, fell in love, and consecrated our marriage to the service of the Lord. We have served our present congregation for 26 years. It has been an amazing journey—carrying the Gospel of Jesus Christ. We haven’t regretted a single mile.

Today we had our first visit with a dialysis nurse. “When the doctor sends you to me, it means he is expecting you to be on dialysis in the next twelve months.” The news was overwhelming. Fear gripped us. Once again all the “what ifs” swarmed our thoughts like bees to honey. The nurse was so compassionate and attempted to ease our anxieties by cramming our heads with as much information as she could. The distraction seemed to work, as she filled our laps with pamphlets, charts, and lab results to take home and study.

As we drove home, we tried to keep emotionally afloat by naming all the blessings in our lives. It worked for a few minutes, but then my husband’s cell phone rang. While he chatted, I peered out the window of our van. Scalding tears stung my eyes. I cried out to the Lord in the depths of my soul and tried not to let my husband know the anguish I was in. “He’s only 54 and he’s been so faithful, Lord. He’s such a humble servant of Yours.” I quietly wept and continued to pray, “We’ve done all we know to do. We’ve prayed for a healing, anointed him with oil, and called for the elders of the church just like Your Word teaches. Lord, where are you?”

Suddenly, a ray of hope pierced through the fog in my soul. Spirit ministers to spirit. I could see so clearly over two thousand years ago, an unknown peasant girl. The Holy Spirit whispered, “Mary was the first one to carry the Gospel.”

Thoughts of a simple carpenter named Joseph swirled in my head.

The Holy Spirit continued to minister to me. “I was faithful to this couple, who carried out my will, and I will be faithful to you too.”

At that moment Heaven changed earth. I felt God breathe hope into my hopeless soul. We carry the Gospel. The same God who watched over Mary and Joseph would watch over us.

I felt ashamed for doubting. “Forgive me, Lord. When will I ever learn?”

______

UPDATE: On June 12, 2008, our son gave his father the gift of life. Both father and son are doing well. Great is His faithfulness!

PROFESSIONAL PRAISERS

May the Lord make each one of us “professional praisers” this Thanksgiving. Here is a little story to help "jumpstart" our Thanksgiving spirit.

Sir Gabriel’s trumpet blared up and down the golden streets of Beulah Land. Multitudes of people from every kindred shouted in unison, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive glory and honor forever and ever. Worthy is the Lamb upon His throne.”

As the corridors of Heaven rang with the praises of the redeemed, Sir Michael whispered to his friend, “Sir Gabriel, look at the white-robed throng! Isn’t it strange? No nation has a monopoly of saints here in Heaven and no tribe is unrepresented.”

Sir Gabriel smiled. “That’s right, Sir Michael. King El Shaddai has seen to it that all people can understand the greatest story ever told.”

Prince Emmanuel sat on His throne as the praise and worship filled the Celestial City. Zoe, a cherub, trotted towards Him, crawled on His lap, clutched His nail-scarred hand and gently kissed it. “Mama told me that the scars in Your hands are the only thing made by man that King El Shaddai would allow in Heaven.”

The beloved Prince patted her chocolate curls. “That’s right, Zoe. Your mother has taught you well.”

Zoe’s dark eyes darted as she scanned the masses. “Mama says the reason the people’s robes are so white and shining is because they have scrubbed them sparkling clean in the Blood of the Lamb and there’s nothing that can take dark spots out of a human soul like the Lamb’s Blood.”

Prince Emmanuel planted a kiss on the little angel’s head, as heavenly harmonies floated with crystal clarity. “Your mother is very wise.”

Zoe cooed, “She sure is! She said that the tiniest people on earth learn about the Lamb in their grandmother’s rocking chair. Did you know that, Prince Emmanuel?”

“I believe that is very true, Zoe.”

The smoke from the incense billowed around the holy court. Sir Gabriel shouted, “It’s the prayers of the saints. Pray on! Oh, Christians, pray on! Though your voice may be feeble, you have a High Priest who has been touched by your infirmities and He lives forever and makes intercession for you.”

Waves of spontaneous praise flooded the streets of the New Jerusalem.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Prince Emmanuel.” Zoe crinkled her freckled nose. “Why can’t angels sing these beautiful songs?”

“Because, little one, these are songs that are reserved for only those who have been redeemed.”

“Oh, I get it.” Zoe cheered, “The redeemed are singing songs of praise to the Lamb, who rescued them.”

“Exactly!”

“And I know how they got so good at praising the Lamb, too.”

“And how is that?” Prince Emmanuel tilted his head slightly.

Zoe lifted her hands and squealed. “They praised the Lamb together in church every Sunday, week after week and year after year. They bowed their heads and thanked Him for His blessings day after day. With all that practice, they have become professional praisers!”

Prince Emmanuel chuckled. “Indeed they have, Zoe!”

“And they even have one day out of the year that they set aside to give thanks.” Zoe waved one finger in the air. “They call it Thanksgiving.”

“Very true.” Prince Emmanuel’s head bobbed. “And all of heaven is sweeter because of the praises of the saints.”

My Grandmother's Faith

I have one more “Gramma” story I want to share with you today. I pray this true testimony of God’s touch on my grandmother’s life will strum on your heartstrings and jumpstart you to document your family’s amazing story.

My grandmother had only a fifth grade education, but she graduated valedictorian from the University of Adversity. She was the firstborn child of alcoholic parents. Some of the trauma she endured left gaping holes in her soul. Her deep inner pain caused her to cry out to God as a young wife and mother, and she discovered the power in prayer.

As a young child, I realized God had given my Grandma mountain-moving faith. When she prayed, God showed up. There is one memory etched in my mind’s eye I’d like to share with you today.

My mother, Bonnie, was Grandma's second child. She suffered with bouts of severe depression and had to be hospitalized on numerous occasions. After another suicide attempt, our family was summoned to the emergency room. Grandma quickly found a place to pray. She wasn't gone very long and had an unusual bounce in her step when she returned. “The Lord spoke to me today. He told me Bonnie will live and not die. She is going to play her violin for Jesus in church one day."

I didn’t say anything aloud, but thoughts were buzzing in my 11-year-old head. But Grandma, how will Mom ever play her violin in church when she doesn’t even attend church?
My thoughts were interrupted by the doctor’s stern voice. "I think we saved her this time, but one of these times she will get the job done. You need to prepare yourselves for what’s ahead."

Grandma, who was usually mild-mannered and polite, bolted from her chair. Pointing her crooked finger in his chest, she barked, "Now you listen to me, Doc. My girl is not going to die, but live and play her violin for Jesus in church."

An awkward silence enveloped the room. The doctor shook his head and made a hasty exit. “Religious nut! Mental illness must run in the family.”

Mom’s depression increased and there were more hospitalizations and suicide attempts. I often heard my grandmother reminding the Lord, “You promised I would see her play the violin for You.”

When I was 16, my mother met a retired pastor's wife who had battled crippling depression. This woman took a keen interest in my mother and tenderly led her into a loving relationship with Jesus.

Mom became a faithful member of a Bible-believing church. One Saturday she announced, "I've been invited to play my violin for special music in church."

Grandma let out a victory yelp and danced a jig. “I’m sitting on the front pew.”

I have been in fulltime ministry for more than thirty years. I've learned much from Bible college and ministry experiences, but it was watching my grandmother's life that taught me the most about the power of prayer. She gave me a sample, a living example, of how an ordinary woman with a simple faith in an extraordinary God can move mountains.

Grandma resides in heaven, but my precious mother is still living. She will soon be 80, and on special occasions still plays her violin for Jesus.