Guest blogger Debbie Pharr: Words of Faith or Words of Fear

Jacob is a precious man of God who serves in the country of Kazakhstan as a church planter.  He, his wife K. and their three sons face opposition and a great deal of hardship, but they are filled with joy. 

A few months ago, the Aimurzin family used their electric bill money to fund a trip for K to go to her mother, who was very sick. Jacob and his three sons spent a few weeks without power.  

Instead of complaining, his next newsletter was full of thankfulness.   He shared about how it gave him special times with his sons as they conversed around the candlelight in the evenings.  He praised God for the way He brought them closer as a family through adversity.  

What the enemy meant for harm, God used for good through the praises of this precious family.

The enemy whispers (and sometimes shouts) his discouragements, accusations, and lies against God’s word daily in my life. But I have a choice and you have a choice as to how we respond.  

As a dear friend reminded me recently, “There are only two kinds of words; words of fear or words of faith!” Which kind of words will you use today? 

Prayer ---Lord, we worship You as the almighty, all-powerful God of the universe for whom nothing is impossible.  Thank You that when we deem You worthy of all praise, You save us from our enemies.   When we praise You, Satan has no answer for that. When we praise You, Satan is defeated!

2 Samuel 22:4  ---“I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.”

___________________

photo courtesy of free images.com

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: (a Caregiver Chronicle) When We're Made for Relationship and We're Dying Without It

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

When We're Made for Relationship and We Are Dying Without It

Someone asked me to give a little Sam update every day and I said no. Here's why: Bringing Sam, my dying neighbor, into my home, is overwhelmingly hard and I'm not good at it yet. It's all-consuming, and I need to talk, and write, about something else when I can. 

We've done what I said we would, and it doesn't seem remarkable to me. I knew it would be hard, and it is. I also knew I would get used to it, and I will. I'm not there yet, but it won't take long. I hope. 

Before much time has passed, I'll begin to see the humor in the midst of the struggle, and laugh about it. I'm not there yet, either, but it's not far away. When I reach that sweet point, our struggles will be fodder for humorous stories. We'll all laugh together about how good God is in the midst of a trial. 

Sam's a sweet man who needed a place to stay. I had extra room. Loving my neighbor as I love myself requires that, if they have a need and I can meet it, I should. So I have. 

A friend of mine had that same attitude when someone she knew needed a liver transplant. She offered a piece of her liver. Her neighbor had a need and she could meet it, so she offered to do it. 

There's nothing heroic or amazing about this kind of giving. I'm doing what Jesus clearly described in Scripture. This is what sacrificial love looks like. We're all supposed to love like this. The world would be a different place if we did. It would be the place Jesus intended when He suffered, died, and rose again for our sins.

Within twenty-four hours of moving Sam to my house, he was better. Eating a little. Drinking more protein drinks. Gaining strength. He's getting around with his walker now. Joking. Tapping his foot to music. Talking for hours with visitors. 

He was dying, with mere days to live, but the interaction with people and the constant care have made a difference. His life has been prolonged. No doubt about it.

We were made for relationship, and Sam's living proof that we can die without it. He nearly did. A daily visit and two or three phone calls a day would be enough for me, I think, but not for Sam. He's an extrovert who needs lots of interaction. 

I'm an introvert who needs lots of alone time. Sam's need has collided with my own. I've sacrificed my need for his, because that's what we're supposed to do.

Here's how the Message explains it:

"If you've gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if His love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care - then do me a favor...Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourself long enough to lend a helping hand." Philippians 2:3

"Forget yourself long enough to lend a helping hand."

I'm forgetting myself for a while and lending a helping hand, in the name of Jesus, just as Scripture tells us to do. 

This is supposed to be the default behavior for Christians. We're all supposed to be doing something with this same degree of love.

One day, we'll have the opportunity to explain to Jesus why we did or didn't love like this. I'll explain why I delayed so long. "Sam didn't want to move," won't be the real reason. "I wanted to keep my space to myself," will be. 

I've repented of my selfishness more than once. I've been forgiven. I'm pressing on. 

I don't think I'll have to explain how hard it is, how many tears I've cried, how I can't begin to comprehend how much better Sam is after a simple change of location. 

I'll say one thing with certainty. The Spirit of God helped me through. Just like Jesus said He would. This is a hard kind of love, and we never have to do it alone. 

This love, my friends, is unstoppable. We can change the world with it, if we will. So let's get started today. There are more than enough Sam's to go around. 

Don't merely read about love. Ask God who's waiting for your love, then give it. 

Love big. Love hard. Stun the world with the love of Jesus. It's difficult, but worth it. 

"This is my commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you."  John 15:12 nasb
_______________

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: (a Caregiver Chronicle) When the Niceness of Jesus Overflows from Us and Changes the World

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line
#sam #loveoneanother 

When the Niceness of Jesus Overflows From Us and Changes the World

I'm not sure what made me think about the daffodils yesterday, but, around the farm, they're the first flowers that bloom in the spring. They're planted along the fence line and stretch half-way down the drive. It's a glorious sight.

When the flowers were in full bloom, Sam would go down the row and pick a bouquet, careful not to remove too many from any one spot. He'd come to the back door and present me a double-handful of yellow sunshine. 

The first spring I was here, I was shocked that he'd picked what I considered "my" flowers. Later, I realized he'd helped plant them. After working on the farm for nearly thirty years, those flowers were as much his as mine.

When the magnolia across the lake bloomed, he'd bring me a blossom to "fill my house with the smell." The first time Sam gave me a milky-white magnolia surprised me, too. 

I'd received flowers before, but always florist-flowers. Sam picked what gave him joy and passed it along. Not once did I see him take flowers for himself. 

One day, as Sam gave me another bouquet, I thought, "He's such a romantic," and realized it was true. He shared the tenderness of his heart in little ways that were as consistent as the morning sunrise. The eagerness with which he gave his offerings of love reminded me of a young boy. He's too frail to pick flowers now, but the aroma of the offerings remains.

I wish I were more like Sam. 

I wish I noticed the world around me on a consistent basis.

I wish I gathered beauty, not for myself, but to simply pass along, because the gifting is a lovely moment, too.

I wish I were consistently kind, because there's great beauty in kindness.

This morning, I read John 15 and came across Jesus' command. "Love one another." I had a crazy thought. Jesus is as nice as Sam. Of course, I had that backward. The correct wording is, "Sam is as nice as Jesus." 

I thank God often that He's nice, and it always surprises people when I do. But He is. 

Monday, the funeral for my friend Jan's daddy was held. The sky had looked like an impending rainstorm all morning. I'd been concerned it would be just as threatening for the burial. 

Of course, it wasn't gloomy at all. God pulled back the clouds, filled the sky with blue, and let the sun shine it's brightest. It reminded me of Sam and the daffodils. A sweet gift filled with love. 

Imagine for a moment a world filled with the sweetness of Sam, which is really the sweetness of God Himself...

Wouldn't that be a better place? A more beautiful, peaceful place?

That kind of love and beauty is only possible if we make a start, for it must begin with us, the people of God. We, who were commanded by Jesus Himself to love must begin to do it with intention. It's not optional.

To love with the intention of Jesus, to share beauty with the abandon of Christ, will require that we slow down long enough to recognize the beautiful, to fill our hands with love, and pass it along. 

Don't we want this kind of life? Then why don't we demonstrate that desire by our actions?

Dear friends, time is short and we must make a start if we ever hope to do it. Be still. Look around. See with our hearts. Open our hands. Love. Share. Give. Do it all in the name of Jesus.

We could change the world...if we would. 

"This is my commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you."  John 15:12 nasb

"Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." Romans 12:21 nasb

____________________

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When We Made Up Our Minds to Do a Hard Thing and We Did It

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

#sam #loveoneanother

When We Made Up Our Minds about a Hard Thing, and We Did It

No one should have to face death by themselves. When you give your word, you keep it. Those two truths helped us do what had to be done. There were, of course, a few Scriptures that helped us, too...

- greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friend. (John 15:13)

- do unto others as you'd have them do unto you (Luke 6:31)

- love your neighbor as you love yourself (Matthew 22:39)

Those verses describe the love Jesus has, the love He intended us to have. We become more like Jesus by doing what He says, so we did it. 

It's that simple. It's that hard.

My neighbor, Sam, came to live with me yesterday. He'll be here until the end. It wasn't an easy decision, and it wasn't an easy move, but we both knew it was the right decision.

We made it through the first day and night.

There were a few moments when I thought we might not. When the man setting up the bed found a broken clip and asked for duct tape to fix it...when Sam told a friend on the phone that he was just spending the night for one night...when we planned Sam's funeral and his obituary...when the baby monitor picked up the cyclic whooshing of the air mattress pump so well that the noise nearly drove me crazy...

Overall, though, it was a beautiful day. 

At the beginning, Sam was so frail and weak that he barely made it to my car with his walker. It was a demonstration of enormous resolve that he continued to walk when he was barely able to move one foot in front of the other and had such dizziness that he could scarcely see. As he crawled into the car and sank into the leather seat I thought, "This is what tough looks like."

He says his tongue doesn't work and he can't eat, but Sam managed to get a bowl of ice cream down, as well as several Boosts. By the end of the day, his skin wasn't as pasty, his smile was back, he was speaking more, and he was a little stronger. He could get to the bathroom and back to the bed without staggering (well, not as much staggering). He wasn't as short of breath.

Late yesterday afternoon, Sam was seated in the same recliner my Mama occupied five years ago. Same exact spot. He looked over at the hospital bed and back at me. "I never thought I'd end my life in a place so nice." It was all I could do not to weep. This is what grace looks like. Unmerited favor, for both of us. 

I'm tired this morning, but content to know that we've done what I promised I'd do back in 1989: Take care of Sam and let him stay here on the farm as long as he lives. 

We're both grateful for the outpouring of love and prayers. We're so grateful for all those who have called, texted, emailed, and come by. For those who have done some of the myriad of tasks I haven't had time to do. For all those who will help us along this way.

I can't do this alone and I'm grateful I don't have to...thank you all. This beautiful international digital community has become family to me and I'm grateful to be a part.

I'm not doing anything special. I'm doing what we're all called to do: loving our neighbor in the same way we love ourselves. 

Today, please keep praying for us. It's the only way we'll make it through. 

But don't just pray; do more...look around and see which neighbor God has assigned to you. Who should you love as you love yourself? For whom should you lay down your life? 

Obedience is hard, but it's always worth it.

"Great love hath no one than this, that on lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13 nasb

_____________

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When the Time to Move Finally Comes

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

#sam #loveyourneighbor

When The Time to Move Finally Comes

Life in this corner of Blue Springs will change in a big way today. I've debated whether to share this or not. Frankly, I'd rather hold my grief close, so that no one else can touch it. 

As a person who is mostly an introvert, I've sometimes found it difficult to tolerate this job God has given me of living my faith out loud. I don't always feel that way, of course. Right now, however, this "letting people in so they can see how it's done" is a terribly painful, frightening work. 

I've chosen to trust you with our pain again. Handle it well, please, just as you've done before. 

Over the last few weeks, Sam has grown steadily weaker. He's stared death in the face and found it a daunting job. This last bit of life is not for the faint of heart. It's the kind of work that can't be done alone, not easily. My phone calls and visits are no longer enough.

Yesterday, Sam and I had a long talk. It was hard for both of us. Finally, we came to the decision we'd been skirting for a while. Today, Sam will say goodbye to his home of 57 years and move to my house. We'll face this next hard part of his journey together.

Last night, I emailed my pastor, my mission director, my fellow home office staffers, and texted a few friends and family to let them know. I cried a bucketful because, sometimes, tears need to flow. Since I texted and emailed through a veil of tears, I'm not sure who knows and who doesn't. 

If you feel I should have let you know and I didn't, please forgive this impersonal notification. I did the very best I could. 

When I was done with tears, I began the task of turning my dining room into a hospice room. It was well after midnight when I crawled into bed, but the furniture was moved and relocated, a place for the hospital bed was open, plugs for the oxygen were ready. Even my refrigerator was ready to accommodate Sam's protein drinks and banana pudding. 

Today, hospice will send a hospital bed and over-bed table. Someone will come to help me move the oxygen equipment. We've already moved his valuables, but I'll finish packing Sam up and, when the oxygen is moved, we'll move him, too. 

If it sounds like we're waiting for death, we're not. I'll work from home as much as possible. For now, Sam will be by my side. He'll be able to sit on the patio and look at the lake, enjoy the screened porch, snuggle with the Wonder Dogs. 

We know it's going to be an adjustment for both of us. We realize it might be hard. We're both used to that. We've done hard before. 

This morning, I opened my Bible to Jeremiah 29:11. It's my life verse and, as usual, I found considerable comfort there. In case you don't know the context, the verse is part of a letter written by Jeremiah to the exiles in Babylon. 

The people of Judah were faithless and, after repeated warnings, God allowed them to be taken captive by Nebuchadnezzar. Of course, they were frantic and grief-stricken. Jeremiah had a word from God for them that brings me comfort, even though my situation is not the same. (Leanna paraphrase coming up.)

"Keep living, My children. I know where you are. I sent you there for a reason. Bless the place where you live with your prayers. Seek its welfare. In seventy years, I'll bring you home. It's longer than you want, but I have a reason, even for the length of stay. Before I'm done, you'll seek Me with all your heart, and you'll find Me. Do what I say, and I'll restore in ways you can't yet imagine."

Those words brought great comfort to the people. They grieved the stay but welcomed the promise. 

In a way, that's where Sam and I are. We grieve the need for the stay, but we welcome the promise that, at the appointed time, Sam's Heavenly Father will call him home. We're trusting this is part of God's plan for us. It's for a specified period of time that only God knows. He'll be with us in it, so we'll see His hand all along the way.

If you've visited Sam at his house, you'll be welcome at mine.  

I don't know what kind of help we'll need along the way, but I expect we'll figure it out soon. What I know for sure is that we need your prayers more than ever today, and in the coming days, as well. 

May God bless you for the love you've shown Sam over the years, and the love you've shown me, as well.

"For I know the plans that i have for you," declares the Lord, "plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope." Jeremiah 29:11
________________

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Finding Hidden Treasure in a Stack of Journals

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

#sam

Finding Hidden Treasure in a Stack of Journals

When LaShay Blansett asked me to speak to the West Jackson Street Baptist Church women about prayer journaling, I wondered if I knew enough on the topic to speak. I had journals, but were they prayer journals? 

I read through all my little books. As it turns out, they're more than prayer journals. They're troves of hidden treasure. 

My first journal, from 1989, is filled with quotes and water color illustrations. The next one, undated, was from the early 1990's and it's more accurately called a prayer journal. By that time, I'd begun to make notes about my daily Bible study, write out prayers, express my feelings on paper, and detail the events of the day. 

A lot of hurt is inscribed on those pages, but there's a lot of joy, too. Instead of scrapbooking, like many of the mothers of children my son's age, I wrote the stories of events throughout Ryan's childhood. Some of those stories eventually became magazine articles and blog posts. There are still many that didn't. 

I found nearly 30 years of pain, sorrow, joy, hope, prayers, pleas, struggles, and growth. As I read through those pages, I realized there'd been a time when I was an angry, unhappy woman, stressed beyond words by the responsibilities I faced. 

The only place I knew to get help was God Himself. It took a while, because I was slow to change, but eventually, I became a different woman. Much more calm, content, joyful, peaceful. I couldn't make those changes on my own. God, working in me, gradually accomplished the impossible.

I found a theme of fear woven through many of those years. Fear of failure, financial disaster, loss, and overwhelming shame. Over and over, I begged God to take my fear and, somewhere between 1989 and now, He did. 

I read the accounts of my fears and marveled that the woman of fear was now the woman who roamed all over Jerusalem alone and, while rambling, stopped to eat a picnic lunch with a Palestinian Muslim stranger at the foot of the Eastern gate. That adventure would've been unthinkable 30 years ago. 

I begged God to teach me to change my priorities, manage my money, and impact my world, and He did all of that, too.

I found forgotten stories of sweet times with Ryan as a boy and conversations that would've been lost if I hadn't recorded them in my journal. 

I didn't know I was doing anything special at the time, but I'm so grateful for those journals. They document growth, commemorate special times, and demonstrate the faithfulness of God in big and small ways. 

If you're not prayer journaling, I encourage you to start. All you need is a pen and paper. A fancy, leather-bound journal is not necessary. Even a spiral-bound notebook will do. 

The best journal is the one you write in. 

You need one more thing. Discipline. Be consistent. Even if you don't write every day, write a few times a week. 

We've become such a digital society that we've lost the art of writing. We send emails instead of hand-written letters, texts instead of notes. Journal writing has become adult-coloring and drawing. There's no substitute, however, for an honest, intimate journal, kept faithfully over decades.  

As I prepared to talk, I paused to wonder if God had anything to say about the discipline. In fact, He does. "Forget not all His benefits" means we make a purposeful effort to remember all the things God does for us. If we want to remember, we have to record it in some way. Write it down. It's a discipline straight from the pages of Psalms.

If I hadn't bought the first little journal and made the first entry, I wouldn't have the treasure of today. So make a start. Build a treasure. Start writing. Twenty years from now, you'll be glad you did. 

"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget none of His benefits." Psalm 103:2 
______________

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post:The Race Cows and the Sparkly Top

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line

The Race Cows and the Sparkly Top

Usually when the mayor called, there is some sort of municipal issue to discuss.  On this particular day, however, she called with bad news.  "Leanna," she said. "You at home? 'Cause your cows are up here in the road."  

It was unusual for my cows to get out.  My fences were good and the cows were well-trained and content.  They had, however, run through two fences, then continued to run up the gravel driveway and out to the road. 

I was already dressed for an evening meeting, in my cutest sparkly, beaded top.  It's my favorite.  With cows out, though, I didn't have time to change.  Cows on the road are an enormous risk for motorists and a huge liability for me, not to mention incredibly risky for the cows.  

I headed to the barn for a bucket and feed, then went in search of the cows, still wearing my favorite sparkly top.  I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw the cows grazing in my neighbor's yard, and rattled the bucket, calling them as loudly as I could.  "Here girls, come on girls."  That's what I always say, and they ALWAYS come. Except this day.  They didn't come at all.  In fact, they didn't even look up.  They were munching away at the grass that must have seemed greener (being on the other side of the fence). 

Not to be bested by a small herd of cows, I headed toward them, still rattling the feed in the bucket. Much to my surprise, they turned around and started running up the road that runs alongside my farm. Running is not quite the best description of what they were doing.  Sprinting at break-neck speed was more like it.  I tried to run, too, but my two fleshy legs could not keep up with them. 

As I headed up the road, my neighbor offered to help.  Our plan was that he would drive us up the road, get in front of the speeding cows, turn crossways in the road, and I would jump out and lure them back to the farm with the bucket of feed.  They do that all the time in the movies.  Well they do the driving and turning crossways part.  I've never seen a movie where a middle-aged woman in a sparkly top with a big bucket of feed jumps out and herds cows up.  You don't want to, either. 

That plan worked pretty well, once we got the cows to get in a single-file line.  That was no easy task itself, let me tell you!  Sam whipped around crossways in the road, I hopped out, and for a moment I caught their attention.  

I thought they were headed to the bucket, but no, they weren't.  They whirled around again, this time headed back to the main road, running all out.  How could cows that are not just well-proportioned but still nursing babies run like that? I wondered.  Not to be outdone, I jumped back in the car, and we started following them again, hoping to do another whip-across. 

They must have figured out our tactic, because they soon veered over to another neighbor's farm and ran up to his barn.  I was really grateful when they paused in front of the barn door. That little bovine rest-stop gave me time to jump out of the car and rattle the bucket again.  

It did about as much good as a pair of maracas, because they realized the car that had blocked them was now stopped.  The road was clear, and they took full advantage, racing like a lion was chasing, right back up the road from which we had just come.  I was voice-texting like crazy, recruiting people to pray that these silly cows would stop and head home. 

By this time I was doing more than glistening, my hairdo was a total loss, and my favorite sparkly top was decidedly less than fresh, but there was nothing to do but head back after them.  Of course, I had to jump back in the car as Sam revved the motor to race up the road again.  By the time we did the whip-around once more, we were further up the side road than ever before.  

At last, Sam successfully accomplished a decisive turn crossways in the road with such authority that the cows stopped.  The mama-moos looked like they were still having fun, but I was more than a little breathless with the adventure.  I just stood still, prayed, and begged them to come to me.  Glory hallelujah! They did! 

I let Miss Freckles stick her head in the bucket for a bite.  She nearly knocked it out of my hand, but I held on firm.  Betsy lumbered over for a bite, and I took a few steps forward.  A quick glance back revealed a line of cows, calmly following along behind me.  I wanted to collapse with relief, but we weren't home yet. 

I walked a bit, then let a cow sneak a bite, then walked a little more. Gradually, we made our way back home and down the long gravel drive.  When I opened the gate, they all walked in and headed toward the barn.  I followed along and filled the feed trough, then locked them in the pecan grove. They all ate a few bites, but left most of the food in the trough.  They had not gotten out because they were hungry, they just wanted an adventure, I guess. 

Once the cows were safe, (and the motorists were safe from the cows), I quickly changed clothes and headed back to repair the fence.  Bill, who helped on my farm, arrived just in time, and before long we had completely repaired/replaced the fence, the cows were back in their usual pasture, and calm reigned again. 

I have no idea what precipitated those cows to run wild.  They weren't hungry.  They had a safe, green pasture.  I may never know why they ran, but I realized, all over again, that running wild after them didn't help.  

It was only when I was still, centered, and holding something more attractive than the road on which they were running, that they finally turned and headed back to me. 

There's a lot of truth in that, isn't there? Like the prodigal whose dad waited at the end of the road, we, too, much tire of our circumstances enough to desire a new way. When we do, our Heavenly Father stands waiting, with blessings untold, to welcome us home. 

One really good thing came of the adventure.  The fences they tore down were the last pieces of fencing that had not been replaced.  That stretch of fencing had bothered me for quite some time. Thanks to the race-cows, I now have excellent fencing in the worst stretch, and it happened so fast I could hardly believe it.  

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28
_____________

Please like and share if this blog post has touched your heart. It extends our digital reach in significant ways. Thank you.

In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: When a Demon Came to  Church and Jesus made Him Leave 

If you feel led to partner with this ministry (US, Jordan, the digital world), here's the link to give your tax-deductible donations: Global Outreach Acct 4841 

Or you can mail your check or money order to: Global Outreach/ PO Box 1, Tupelo MS 38802. Be sure to put Account 4841 in the "for" line