Tag Archive | witnessing

Cottage by the Sea #12 5/4/15

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Abba Father:
In my heart there are stories left to write,
Songs still to sing,
Joy left to share,
Skies still for flight.
There’s still time to share.
Still time— to care.

In my soul there are tears left to shed,
Paths to explore,
Hearts to make light,
Flowers that are red,
There’s still time to share.
Still time—to care.

In my testimony there are messages left unsaid,
Though time melts away,
Not just for me,
For every soul not yet dead.
There’s still time to share.
Still time—to care.

In my soul, Lord I ask you today,
Keep my mind steady,
Armed with the Holy truth,
Let my words be those You say.
There’s still time to share,
Still time. …to care.

Here’s all I am Lord.
A servant to Your Heart,
Use me, mold me, train me.
Make me wholly Your’s, not part.
There’ s still time to share,
Still time…to care.
           d.f.a.v.  5/3/15
—Donna

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How to Offer Hope in this World

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It is hard to be cynical

In the face of hope,

Hard to be skeptical

When miracles occur,

Hard to give up

With a hand reaching out,

And this my, friends

Is what Christ’s hope is about.

 

It is hard to be cold-hearted

If you truly know God’s love,

Hard to be blind minded

When your heart has the ears,

Hard to be judgmental

When ourselves we truly see,

And this is how my friends

Christ Jesus sets us free.

 

It is hard to find hope

When life beats you down,

Troubles have you tangled,

Friends can’t be found,

Hard to be open to love

If hurt and pain’s all you know,

Difficult to accept truth

If hates all you’ve been shown.

 

We learn to reach out to others

When we first reach out to Him

He then reach others through us.

In a world losing hope,

Where hate and greed reign proud

And when real truth is hard to find.

When Jesus shines through us

He can offer hope to mankind.

 

He will extend others grace

And mercy undeserved,

Even if the world appears

Completely conquered by sin

If we surrender ourselves

God’s vessel to truly be

Then the hope we can offer

Is the Jesus in us they see.

    d.f.a.v. 11/30/2014

—Donna

 


 

Somewhere, Someone & You


There is someone out there somewhere

Who is lonely and confused,

There is someone out there somewhere

Who is battered and abused,

There is someone out there somewhere

For whom life’s unbearable,

There is someone out there somewhere

Whose pain feels intolerable.

Could it be that this someone needs to see

    Jesus’ compassion alive in you?

 

There is someone out there somewhere

Walking around like nothing’s wrong,

There is someone out there somewhere

Covering tears with happy song,

There is someone out there somewhere

Locked in misery and despair,

There is someone out there somewhere

Who thinks their life beyond repair.

Could it be that this someone needs to see

    Jesus’ understanding in you?

 

There is someone out there somewhere

Whose days seem clothed in gray,

There is someone out there somewhere

Happy face a façade over deep decay,

There is someone out there somewhere

Fighting battles of disease,

There is someone out there somewhere

Unhappy in their seeming life of ease.

Could it be that this someone needs to read

    Jesus’ treasure inside of you?

 

There is someone out there somewhere

Begging for a loving hand,

There is someone out there somewhere

Toiling hard upon the land,

There is someone out there somewhere

That feels the world has made them invisible,

There is someone out there somewhere

Sobbing quietly for they are so miserable.

Could it be that this someone will see that

    Jesus’ sees them through you?

 

There is someone out there somewhere

Needing the touch of the Master’s hand,

There is someone out there somewhere

Ready for the chance to understand,

There is someone out there somewhere

Unknowingly ready for the news,

There is someone out there somewhere

Who is prepared to drop the ruse.

Could it be that this someone waits for

    Jesus’ Words through you?

 

Has God prepared a divine appointment?

Do you have a job to do?

Will you see the need in a stranger?

Calling out to the heart of you?

All around us are people hurting

Do you see with Heaven’s eyes?

Will you stop and really see them

The person behind the disguise?

Could it be today someone sees

Jesus in you?

 

Will you be the hands of the Shepherd?

With which the hungry are fed?

Will you be the one in whose life?

The Words of Scripture are clearly read?

Will your hands reach with compassion?

Can one see His nail prints in your hands?

Will you hold the lamp of light at midnight

A light home for His child lost in a foreign land?

Could it be today someone sees the light of

Jesus in you?

 

Are you willing and are you able

To set aside your agenda for this day

Will you pray for divine guidance?

Listen to what Our Father has to say?

There are walking wounded all around you

Will you bind their wounds with prayer?

Are your eyes open to see those around you

Whose hearts are mourning in despair?

Could it be today someone feels the love of

Jesus in you?

-Faye

 

 

 

 


 

Poured Out – The Conclusion

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It’s the time of night Rebecca King loves.  At 24 she is the youngest resident at Heaven’s Haven, even with her disabilities that require her to have help for day-to-day living, she finds herself awake often in the hours most residents are asleep.  She is in bed though strangely worn out, as if all her physical energy was drained out of her. The bedside lamp provides a soft warm light in the draped darkness.  Her Bible open on her lap, her notes on the bedside tray, her head laid back and her heart and mind focused on praying.

The visit from her father nearly a month ago has increased her prayers for him.  Sam King was still fighting God, still trapped by booze, bad memories and bad decisions.  But for the first time Rebecca considered the type of offering she’d asked to be before God to help show her father the way to his personal savior, to Jesus.

In her mind she was asking to be poured out, for God to use all of her to show her father how much he needed God.  She’d envisioned herself a clay water pitcher God poured out, emptied, even allowed destroyed. 

The Biblical definition was far different, connected to the fellowship offering it was a drink offering of gratitude as best she could understand. Rebecca wondered if she was learning this too late, but she clung to her to original image.

“Pour me out Lord God! Empty me…reduce me to dust beneath Your feet! I am Yours to command, to use as You will. My father is a bitter, hard-shelled man who cannot love others because he cannot love himself. Show him Your love. O Father I plea with You the Almighty for my daddy’s soul. You know him Lord! You knit him together in his mother’s womb, You set his days on earth, he is one of Your sons and I know You are waiting to welcome Him into Your fold. Someone, You have given Someone the divine appointment of pointing Daddy to You. Someone has the words, the life, the example Daddy needs. Your Word is ready for him to receive, please ready Daddy’s heart. Amen.”

Across town the halfway house where Sam now resided had rules. He didn’t like them but until his parole was over he had to play by the state’s rules which included graduating from the program here. So, since Sam was smart enough to know being here beat prison he played nice.

Curfew was 10:00, unless you worked second or third shift at the fire extinguisher manufacturer. Sam did not. He worked for a landscaper and as exhausting as the work was, Sam often found sleep hard to fall into.

Tomorrow was Saturday and he was off. He planned to sleep as late as he could which meant 8:00 if he wanted to eat before he cut the grass here which was one of his “house chores”.

But images of Becca floated through his mind. Ethan, who had found him in the gazebo when he’d first seen Becca where he’d nearly crawled being unable to outrun himself anymore, had kept his word to Sam. He had driven him to check in with his parole officer then to the halfway house. Now he called Sam regularly but without telling Rebecca because neither man wanted her to know. Sam didn’t want her thinking she got to him. Ethan not wanting to crush her hopes.

Sam turned over. The Bible Ethan had given him lay open. He realized a lot of things. He wanted to turn his mind off. He was none to happy with the realizations. Sam was sick of thinking. What was Becca was doing when she made that offer to God?

No one offered to be on the line like that for someone like him and Sam knew it. No matter how many times Ethan explained it to Sam he couldn’t except it. No matter how many verses in that Bible Sam read it never made sense.

But he willed himself to shut his mind off. He needed some sleep and if he was still awake when his roommate Carson got in from work he’d never get to sleep for the snoring.

The phone ringing woke Ethan at 4:11 in the morning. Instantly awake he answered before the first ring completed. By 4:17 he was backing out of his driveway. Heaven’s Haven was a 12 minute drive from his house, he made it in 5 and just as the ambulance pulled up.

Before the paramedics were out of their doors Ethan was running down the hallway to Rebecca’s room. It seemed as if time slowed as Ethan tried to reach the bed where Rebecca lay while the staff fought to keep her breathing. He didn’t want to know what happened, he just wanted to be close to her.

The paramedics were right behind him and Ethan was shoved aside as the doctor, nurses and the paramedics jostled for room to get to Rebecca.

As a doctor Ethan understood what they were saying. Part of him grasped the physical reasons Rebecca was dying. Another part, the part who was just a man in love with her fought the truth. How could she die? He hadn’t managed to get her to agree to marry him yet.

Ethan stood there, head back, eyes closed praying hard. But the medical reasoning would reveal a massive blood clot had gotten to Rebecca’s heart and stopped her heart.

No one from his family would speak to Sam. His ex-wife and their kids never acknowledging his presence. Only Ethan made any attempt to reach out to Rebecca’s father. Long after the services and the grave had been covered Sam returned to his daughter’s graveside.

He sat down heavily, tears streaming down his face, and in his hands he held a bottle of whiskey. He stared at it, wishing it could speak, wishing it held answers.

Ethan’s voice was hoarse with his own tears. “Sam? Sam, how are you holding up?”

“What was it she asked Him? To pour her out? To pour her out to reach me?”

“Yes Sam.”

“I sure don’t git it. She was a hell of a lot smarter than to ruin her life fer the likes of me. I sure ain’t worth it. No, I sure as hell ain’t.” Sam said through thick veils of tears and years of pain.

At one point Ethan would have agreed but he understood better now. “She loved you Sam.”

“Loved me? Why? I am a rotten no good drunk who never done nothin but hurt her. Hit her and her Mama and the other youngins too. Good god I stomped on her whiles she was a tellin me about God! What kind of man deserves what she offered?

“The same one Jesus died for.” Ethan whispered.

Samuel King twisted the cap off the bottle of cheap rot-gut whiskey and brought it up to his mouth. Then slowly he turned it, lowered his arm and poured it out.

THE END