2 Corinthians 4:3-4 (NAS)
And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, in whose case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelieving that they might not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.
As a child in Sunday school I would sing this little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. I wasn't totally sure of what I was singing about except when I put my finger up to my face it represented a candle, and I would always let it shine. I wouldn't blow it out.
I read an article that had a quote from Billy Graham telling everyone that we are holding a light and though it may seem a twinkling candle, it is our business to let it shine. Don't let that candle go out.
God's Word, the Bible, is the light. Like a lighthouse, it's beacon warns you there are rocks ahead, so beware. Steer another course. The Bible is our guide when trouble arises God shows us the path we should take. His beacon is steering us in His direction. The truth, the light, the way to ever lasting life. Eternal life.
God's Word tells me I am to hold my candle, the Bible, in my hands and share it with the world. I will tell others what God has done for me. The many blessings He has given me and gives me each day. I'm not saying life is all rosy, that I don't have problems just like everyone else, but with problems I have God, who will be by my side through it all. Praise God.
Dear Father in Heaven thank you for being with me through everything. From my rising up to my laying down each day, thank you for holding me in the palm of Your Hands. Amen.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
GO AND TELL
Psalm 118:17 (NAS)
I shall not die, but live, and tell of the works of the Lord.
I grew up going to Sunday school. Whatever church bus came by the house was the one that my mother put me on along with my brothers and sisters. When we got older I was allowed to make my own choices, which meant I went to church with my friends. Some Sundays I went to the Baptist church that was close by the house. Then other Sundays, when I got up early enough I walked the two miles and went to church at the Methodist church with my closest girlfriend. Did I really listen to what the pastor said or what his message said to me. I did not. It was my time to be with friends.
As I got older, married, and my children came along I did the same thing as my mother. Only I took my children to Sunday school and picked them up. I did not go. Sometimes I would go to church, but then again I didn't listen to the message. Really listen. It was a feel good time for me. By that, I mean, I felt good when I left the church.
Not until my later years did I start going to Sunday school. I listened as the teacher took the lesson apart and gave meaning to the Bible. To what God's message was to me. It seemed each lesson was directed to my life. What I was going through at that particular time.
I looked forward to learning more about God's Word. Taking each verse, disecting, reading more, and taking more classes with ladies Bible study. I learned not only am I supposed to study God's Word but I'm supposed to tell others about His love and mercy.
I had heard the words The Great Commission but I did not understand. This is God's commission for all of us. To tell others. Give the gift of a Bible to people who don't own one. Explain what God has done, that he sent His only son to die on the cross for all of our sins. All you have to do is confess your sins and accept Jesus into your heart. So easy. By grace I am God's daughter.
Dear Father thank you for Your grace, love, and mercy. Thank you for loving me so much that you gave Your son to die for my sins. Amen.
I shall not die, but live, and tell of the works of the Lord.
I grew up going to Sunday school. Whatever church bus came by the house was the one that my mother put me on along with my brothers and sisters. When we got older I was allowed to make my own choices, which meant I went to church with my friends. Some Sundays I went to the Baptist church that was close by the house. Then other Sundays, when I got up early enough I walked the two miles and went to church at the Methodist church with my closest girlfriend. Did I really listen to what the pastor said or what his message said to me. I did not. It was my time to be with friends.
As I got older, married, and my children came along I did the same thing as my mother. Only I took my children to Sunday school and picked them up. I did not go. Sometimes I would go to church, but then again I didn't listen to the message. Really listen. It was a feel good time for me. By that, I mean, I felt good when I left the church.
Not until my later years did I start going to Sunday school. I listened as the teacher took the lesson apart and gave meaning to the Bible. To what God's message was to me. It seemed each lesson was directed to my life. What I was going through at that particular time.
I looked forward to learning more about God's Word. Taking each verse, disecting, reading more, and taking more classes with ladies Bible study. I learned not only am I supposed to study God's Word but I'm supposed to tell others about His love and mercy.
I had heard the words The Great Commission but I did not understand. This is God's commission for all of us. To tell others. Give the gift of a Bible to people who don't own one. Explain what God has done, that he sent His only son to die on the cross for all of our sins. All you have to do is confess your sins and accept Jesus into your heart. So easy. By grace I am God's daughter.
Dear Father thank you for Your grace, love, and mercy. Thank you for loving me so much that you gave Your son to die for my sins. Amen.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
GOD'S CANVAS
Psalm: 50:2 NAS
Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God has shone forth.
About thirty years ago I felt compelled to take up oil painting. The opportunity arose to where the lessons were within my budget so I jumped at the chance to study under an English lady that was diagnosed as blind. She was my mentor as she carefully guided my hands to paint what my eyes saw. Not what I thought other people saw. Trees are many different colors, not just green and brown. There is taupe, umber, beige for the tree and forest green, hunter green, and moss green for the leaves. Then there's the sea holding colors of cerulean, Prussian, and cobalt blue. These are only a few of the colors on an artist's pallet.
When I sat down to paint I'd let myself relax and then dip my paint brush in the paint then make my first stroke against the canvas. Then another stroke, and another. Mixing my paints to get just that right color until I finally had trees, mountains, and flowers. When I look around me I am amazed at the colors God has used to color His world. The world He gave me to live and worship Him in. The colors I used on canvas doesn't even measure up to what He has done.
With one stroke he colored the mighty,jagged tops of the Grand Tetons to the lush green Alleghaney's. His mighty rivers from the muddy Mississippi to the deep blue of the Columbia. Every delicate flower that dots the forest's floor to the barren deserts, the Lilly of the Valley to the majestic Saquaro cactus.
My God is awesome. He has done all this and yet He is gentle but firm to His creation of you and me. He loves me for who I am. I am His.
Dear Heavenly Father thank you for the beautiful world that You gave me to live in. I pray that others see what You have done and will praise You for it. Amen.
Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God has shone forth.
About thirty years ago I felt compelled to take up oil painting. The opportunity arose to where the lessons were within my budget so I jumped at the chance to study under an English lady that was diagnosed as blind. She was my mentor as she carefully guided my hands to paint what my eyes saw. Not what I thought other people saw. Trees are many different colors, not just green and brown. There is taupe, umber, beige for the tree and forest green, hunter green, and moss green for the leaves. Then there's the sea holding colors of cerulean, Prussian, and cobalt blue. These are only a few of the colors on an artist's pallet.
When I sat down to paint I'd let myself relax and then dip my paint brush in the paint then make my first stroke against the canvas. Then another stroke, and another. Mixing my paints to get just that right color until I finally had trees, mountains, and flowers. When I look around me I am amazed at the colors God has used to color His world. The world He gave me to live and worship Him in. The colors I used on canvas doesn't even measure up to what He has done.
With one stroke he colored the mighty,jagged tops of the Grand Tetons to the lush green Alleghaney's. His mighty rivers from the muddy Mississippi to the deep blue of the Columbia. Every delicate flower that dots the forest's floor to the barren deserts, the Lilly of the Valley to the majestic Saquaro cactus.
My God is awesome. He has done all this and yet He is gentle but firm to His creation of you and me. He loves me for who I am. I am His.
Dear Heavenly Father thank you for the beautiful world that You gave me to live in. I pray that others see what You have done and will praise You for it. Amen.
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