Here are the Blogs in the inspirational category.
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Lord, Hear My Cry!
 It is 3:00 A.M. and I am in a deep, hard-earned slumber when, all of a sudden, I am awakened by my middle child crying out to me from the other end of the house. The instant I am yanked out of my dream and plant my feet on the floor, I am back to reality. I run to her room, trying not to step on any stray toys along the way. I know that scream—I could tell what was wrong as soon as I heard her cry out. She had a nightmare and is scared and needs my comfort. I go into her room, hold her, and console my frightened child. She does not need any more than that; she just needed to know I was there and tell me about what she saw so I could make it go away. I check under the bed and assure her the monster is gone, tuck her back into bed, and kiss her goodnight. Before I leave her room, I turn to check one more time at the door and she is already fast asleep. Parents can always tell what is wrong with their children by the tone of their voices and the way they cry. They can also offer unique comfort to their child that makes cares vanish instantly.
Our Heavenly Father knows His children’s cries as well. He has the ability to reach down inside of us and see exactly what we are feeling. He can see the emotions that our human minds cannot begin to express. He can also take those emotions from us and give us peace. I am reminded of this and comforted by the passage in Romans 8:26-27 that reads, “Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groaning which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God.”
A great example of a deep, prayerful relationship with the Heavenly Father is the story of Hannah. This woman came to her Father’s throne with her heart wide open when she prayed. We see in 1 Samuel 1:13 that Hannah spoke in her heart to the Lord. She understood the power of the Heavenly Father and allowed Him to search her as she prayed. She laid her hurt, pain, and sufferings at His feet and then walked away from them, fully convinced that He had heard and would take care of her. She had that childlike trust, the kind of trust that allowed her to be consoled and forget the cares that were so heavily burdening her heart. It is so imperative for us to understand that the avenue of prayer is a refuge, a safe house, and a comfort. We must understand that the Lord expects us to leave our cares at His feet so He can take them over for us.
Take comfort in knowing that your Heavenly Father knows you and can understand what you are feeling, even if you don’t understand it yourself. The Holy Spirit dwells in us as Christians and when we need Him, He can take over and explain the hurt, pain, fear, joy, or thankfulness that we cannot express to our Father. When you pour out your heart before the Father, do not forget to leave those things with Him. For a child, all it takes is a cry out for the parent to know what is wrong. All it takes is a hug or a kiss to make the things go away. As children of God, all it takes is a cry out from within—no fancy words or expressions, no elaborate prayers. All it takes is us pouring out our souls in prayer and being confident that when the burdens have been laid down, we do not have to look back or carry it any longer. Our Father in Heaven will take care of the worries and we can enjoy the “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). Posted on 05/26/2010 1:13 PM by Ashley Hudson
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
What Does Your Bible Say About You?
What does your Bible say about you? Your copy of the Bible—the physical book that you carry (or don’t).
A few weeks ago I was standing in conversation with a man who summons a great deal of respect from those of us who know him. Somehow, our conversation drifted to the worn condition of our Bibles, and this man related that another person in his family had said that he wanted his Bible when he died. He shared this story with me and how that the remark had caused him to think much more highly of this family member as a result. Rightfully so. They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul, but I say that we can know a great deal about someone by examining his Bible. This man’s family member obviously attached great practical and emotional value to the copy of the Bible that had been well used by a man of such honor.
A few days later, the realization burned in my brain that, when one agrees to write an article, he by necessity must choose something to write about. I was thumbing through Bibles and Biblical material on the shelves in my office; for some reason, I picked up my old Bible—the one that my parents gave to me when I was about to graduate from high school; the one that I used all through college; the one my wife and I carried for years after we married; the one that we no longer carry because its cover is in shreds and pages are threatening to fall to the floor whenever it is picked up. On that day though, I picked it up anyway. I saw the cover tattered from runs from the car to the church building in the rain, visits to the dusty roof of the car while I struggled to get the screaming baby strapped into that stubborn car seat, and, hopefully, more than a few hours of contact with my hands and a tabletop while I studied for a sermon or Bible class or read during lonely hours in search of comfort. I also looked inside its covers. There, between its random pages, like so many of us who use our Bibles as short-term filing cabinets, I had stuck pieces of paper that now chronicled days of my past and brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. There was the laminated obituary for my mother from the July 14, 1978, Sherman (Texas) Democrat. There was the order of worship mailed to our condominium in Arcadia, California, informing me of my assigned role of reading the communion Scripture, Luke 24:38-49, on August 10, 1986. There was a copy of the 1986 budget from a church in Mesquite, and a copy of names and addresses for the “young marrieds” of that congregation. There were names of people once young with me, now old; people once in their prime, now gone; a young minister, once inspiring, kind, and loving, now having left the church; people I was once close to, now forgotten; that screaming baby, now twenty-one.
Then, for some reason, I picked up a copy of the Bible that had belonged to another man. It had the words neatly printed with fountain pen inside, “Presented December 25, 1952, by Beacon Class”—no doubt printed by some hopeful and well-meaning member of the now non-existent Savoy (Texas) Methodist Church. It was printed for this man during one of his several spasmodic runs of church attendance that occurred mostly before I was born but continued at least a time or two during my childhood. That Bible, although older than I am (and I with my cover badly worn) is in remarkably good shape. Its few tears are neatly mended with now golden-brown cellophane tape. That Bible belonged to a good man in many ways—but not a Christian. He was a man who, when little more than a scared farm boy, was forced to leave his bride of a few months to go thousands of miles from home to fight in WWII; a man with very little education who worked very hard to see that his kids had more than he ever had; the man who I become more like with every passing year, like it or not; the man who gave me life but who died alone almost a year ago with no heritage of faith to give me. That Bible, neat and clean, although musty with the strong smell of tobacco smoke, spoke almost nothing about its use. Its pages were mostly free of handwritten notes and leftovers from Bible classes. Its owner, ever respectful of the dead and grieving, did have inside, stuck between chapters nine and ten of Hebrews, handwritten directions to Coker-Matthews Funeral Home.
What does your Bible say about you? Posted on 05/26/2010 1:40 PM by Tom De Berry
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Making Memories
I can still remember playing outside on a hot summer day and vividly hearing the sound of my Dad’s 1965 Plymouth Valiant downshifting as it pulled off the main road and into our subdivision. My thought at the time was – I was not at home where I was supposed to be, clean and ready for supper. That is just one of my childhood memories. Good or bad, depending on how you look at it, it doesn’t matter--it is still a memory.
I have the best job in the world. I would not trade it for any amount of money or anything else. Ever since I was a little girl, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a mom! I watched my mom daily, as she was always there when I came home from school, as she attended school functions, as she cleaned house, as she ironed our clothes and took care of our family. I was always proud to have friends over, and our house was always the “hang out” for the neighborhood kids. That was my mom’s job and that was the job I wanted when I grew up. You could tell she enjoyed her life and what else was I to think other than,“I want to do that when I grow up.” These are my memories.
I am now a mom of two teenage girls. I have lived through the baby years, the toddler years, and the preteen years. There are some days when I would love for them to be toddlers again, but then I look at them and see where they are and how they have gotten there, and I really wouldn’t change much. I have planned the birthday parties, Easter egg hunts, sleepovers, and vacations, but the one thing you really can not plan are the memories. I can see God’s beautiful plan for the circle of life as I watch my own daughters build memories and grow into beautiful Christian women.
The funny thing about memories is that they occur daily when you least expect them. Part of being a parent is the “everyday walk” that you live. It includes encouraging your children to do what is right and being there for them when they are confused and question why some things are right when it seems that they are the only ones doing it that way. We must lead by example and know that we are always being watched. When our children are young, they are like sponges. They watch us and mimic what we do as they learn what is appropriate. Why do we think this stops as they become teenagers? Do we, or should we, ever really stop trying to do good and set good examples for our children?
I believe that our children always watch us and “decide” whether our actions are something they want to inherit. The wise writer of Proverbs recorded “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it” (22:6). That training is a continuous process--old or young our children are still sponges, but they “filter” out to their own personalities—traits they will then share with their children. The memories and the cycle of life continues. Just as it did with my own mother—our special MaMa.
Once you experience the loss of a close family member, you have waves of memories rush through your mind. These are the memories of the little things, such as taking the MaMa medicine that always healed the boo-boos, going to the drive-in movies as a child and taking your own popcorn and can drinks because they were too expensive to buy there, taking the TV outside on the patio and watching it in front of a fire that Dad so carefully built to keep us warm as it got dark, and killing the snake in the backyard with the orange crocket mallet. These are the memories that flood your mind as you get older. Did we plan these events to last as memories? No, it was just the way we lived our lives. Yeah, you remember the vacations and the birthday parties, but what we can’t forget is that every day we are making some type of memory. Is it a memory that you want your children to have?
The biggest compliment my children can give me today is when I say or do something and they look at me and say, “You just had a MaMa moment” or “You just sounded like MaMa”. I know I am on the right track making memories by being close to my family. Talking with them, letting them know I care, and being silent when they don’t really want to know my opinion. That is my job. I am a Mom. I am a memory maker.
In memory of my Mother
Dora Martin Kirby
1926 - 2007
Posted on 06/03/2009 2:09 PM by Saundra Thornton
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
New Every Morning
Many people start their day with a steaming hot and fresh cup of coffee. Just like filling that cup with coffee helps us jumpstart our day, filling our lives with the Lord will help us live our lives with principle, power, and vision. The thoughts presented in this article will hopefully prepare us to examine how we are—or are not—enriching our lives as Christians. We are all very aware that our time on this earth is short. James refers to life as a vapor and we are also considered pilgrims. We are not made for this world and are working with the promise of Heaven as our goal. We enjoy that blessing as Christians. Using our hope of Heaven as the backdrop of this month’s article, let’s consider the following text.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.” Lamentations 3:22-24
As Christians we can go to bed each night heavy with cares and burdens and lay them down at our Father’s feet because He has promised through His compassion for us we will not be consumed. Just as we reflect back on Moses and the burning bush that was not consumed, so we can also know that the cares of this life will not consume us; rather through the compassion of God, our trials serve to remove the dross like silver and make us stronger for the work. We have the opportunity with each new morning to rise up viewing the blessing of a new day to live our life for the glory of God. No matter how badly we have failed, by God’s mercy we don’t receive what we have earned (for the wages of sin is death), but instead we receive that which we don’t deserve (the gift of God is eternal life through His Son). We are blessed with salvation from eternal destruction. With that gift in mind, we must wake up to God’s blessings and use them to enrich our lives and to enrich the lives of our families, the Church, and those with whom we have contact in our communities.
With God, every day is a new beginning. In Christ, through baptism, we buried the old creature and are made new (Romans 6:1-12). With that hope in mind, we must share the excitement to those so weary and burdened around us. Those who have not put on Christ still carry the burden of mistakes and cares that this world heaps upon us daily. They have no hope beyond the grave and, truthfully, no hope for tomorrow. As we think this month about how to enrich our own lives, let’s examine why we need to do this.
1. If we become weak or stagnant in our growth and eventually we lose our spark and our zeal. We are no longer candles distributing the light of Jesus in our homes and communities.
2. If we become bitter, our influence in the church will be hindered and others could be caused to stumble in their walk.
3. If we grow cold in our faith, we hurt everyone from our family, the Church, and even those in the world around us see “self-proclaimed” Christians who don’t even see the value in drinking from a life-giving stream (God’s Word) anymore.
This month I want us all to see how important enriching our lives personally in Christ truly is. It is vital, because as Christians we are called to be a light to this dark world. Wendell Winkler once said, “The best lamp is the one which casts the most light and leaves the least shade.” The real Christian is the one who reflects the most of Christ and the least of himself or herself. Galatians 2:20 puts it this way,
“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. And the life that I know live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.”
So with the remembrance that God has been faithful in the past, let us express our trust to Him that He will continue His faithfulness today, tomorrow, and well into the future by:
· Making ourselves strong in our spiritual walk,
· Tapping into the source of the pure fresh, living waters of Christ, our Redeemer,
· Filtering out anything that hurts our influence while replacing it with the good things of God (like the fruit of the Spirit).
I pray that we all come with a willing heart and a spirit committed to enriching our spiritual walk so we can be a positive influence to our families, our congregation, and to those in the world around us.
Posted on 06/02/2009 12:10 PM by Cindy Palmer
Friday, 29 May 2009
Give Me The Bible
A lame excuse: The dog ate my homework.
But don’t be so quick to reject this explanation considering the sometimes unusual appetites of man’s so-called best friend.
In my youth, our family had a black cocker spaniel. His name was Inky. Obviously it didn’t take a rocket scientist to come up with that name. He was special in two memorable ways, grabbing our garbage collector by the seat of the pants and gnawing on a family Bible. It was the latter that had an impact on the family lineage.
In just one sitting, Inky destroyed a huge, genuine leather-covered Bible. The leather offered a wonderful chewing opportunity, and it would not been so calamitous for my sainted grandmother, Ma Ma if Inky had stopped there.
Inky also consumed our family genealogical information, which my grandmother had carefully recorded on several of the front pages of this Bible. Dates of marriages, births, baptisms, and deaths had been digested in all the wrong ways.
Before the age of computers, family histories were kept in big Bibles and there were few other references in most homes. It required several months and no little expense for my grandmother to find a suitable replacement and to fill out the blanks in the front pages.
As for Inky, now well grounded in the Scriptures, it was his last act of Biblical proportions. He went back to chasing the garbage collectors.
In the family there were other Bibles of historical interest, many of them very large and very old and sitting on coffee tables in several living rooms. One such book of Scriptures rested on a table in the home of a sainted aunt and uncle. It was so old, but so important to the spiritual life of that couple, that no one dared flip through the very dry and brittle pages.
If not handled carefully, pieces big and small would float to the floor. Perhaps this is precisely why their toddler son was attracted to the book.
Needless to say, there was much angst when the tot was discovered sitting in the floor with all the pages scattered about him. Even Humpy Dumpty couldn’t put all that mess together again. It was attempted however, forever to be remembered as the day all the adults in the family had the books of the Bible, not to mention chapters and verses, firmly burned in their minds.
In thinking about such things involving the Scriptures, particularly animals eating the family tree, I took an inventory of my collection of old Bibles stored in the bookshelves. And I ran across a treasure that so far has escaped the notice of my dog Sassy.
It is a 57-year-old New Testament that is 3 x 4 ½ inches and fit in the shirt pocket of uniforms our troops wore in World War II combat. It was distributed under the name of U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt.
In a brief message, the President commended the reading of the Bible and added, “It is a fountain of strength and now, as always, an aid in attaining the highest aspirations of the human soul.’’
Even then it should also have carried a warning similar to that currently required on so many products: Keep out of the hands of small children and the mouths of small dogs.
Posted on 05/29/2009 12:37 PM by Jimmy Davy
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