Predator

Now why did I have to dream about him?  In spite of things that happened in my childhood and teen years I haven’t been plagued by those kinds of dreams. Why now?

                There was a large glossy topped table between us but it was obvious that he was after me. I would rapidly walk a few steps then stop. So would he. He would cross his arms and give me a slightly sneering grin. I glanced around at the wood paneled walls. No windows and doors in sight, no escape route. I started moving again and so did he. This kept on for a while. I knew he was just wearing me down in his tormentingly leisurely way.

                I dropped to my knees, putting my head on my arms, and cried out to God. Then my alarm rang.  He vanished, but I was still troubled. Why did I dream about him?

                My husband had an explanation that echoed my own.

                “It was a good dream,” he said. “Because you knew where to turn, you cried out to God.” (Something like that.) “Your Dad represents evil to you.”

                But why did I dream it? Why, why? And then I knew. There are those of you that are facing situations like that. You and ‘him’ seem to be going round and round the table.  He ‘knows’ he will wear you down eventually and is gloating. But will he? Does he have to? No. Sure you have an adversary, but you also have an Advocate. Jesus is our protector and guide out of difficult situations.

                But do you have an advocate? Have you found Jesus to be a haven of rest ‘in the trying scenes of life’ as one song put it?  He doesn’t wave a magic wand and make all your troubles disappear but He will be there for you making you stronger, giving you comfort. Admit that you can’t ‘escape’ on your own. Admit that you are poor and needy in need of a Savior and commit everything to the lovingly Heavenly Father’s care. 

Endangered by Slavery

Tears of despair trickled down her careworn cheeks as she gazed out the darkened window. Day and night the Evil One is demanding that I let him have the boys. But how can I? They are precious to me! Mentally she looked around her bleak surroundings, and groaned deeply. Now that my husband Lawe, has died, I have nothing to offer to keep them out of the creditors clutches. I have no talents, not charm, no money"—

                        “Nothing?” The barely audible voice stilled her troubled soul.

Behind a Boarded Up Window

Some people you never forget, no matter how much muddy or swift flowing water runs under the bridge. YOU are one of those people. It's been months now since our contact was broken but I still think about you and pray for you from time to time. My heart is heavy. You or someone like you from that sex slave commune reached out to me, I tried to help, in weakness, I tried to do my little part but the contact was broken. I grieve for you knowing how desperately evil your 'masters' are. But what can we do when even the local police are in cahoots with the perpetrators? Thank you for being brave enough to open your hearts and share with me. I know several of you did after I gained your trust, but now I am left in the dark yet I can still pray. Have any of you been able to escape? What wouldn't I give to reconnect and have you call me Mommy, again?
Here's the article that got me thinking about you once more. XOXOX!!

Behind a Boarded Up Window

Good morning, dear one. Did you think I had forgotten you completely? At first I was picturing you standing lonesomely by a small window and looking up at the stars, but then I remembered, you don’t even have that option.

Behind a boarded up window: never to see the cheery sunshine dappling the leaves and making the flowers to glow, never to feel the soft breeze against your skin or enjoy the scent of fresh new growth…

Did you think I have forgotten you? No, never. I am sorrowful that our connection was lost, and pray earnestly that it can be restored once again. I pray that you can feel Jesus’ Presence surrounding you and comforting you. I hope and pray that somehow you will be able to see this message. That would be so delightful!

And by posting this I am praying that others will become aware of the slavery that is going on behind closed doors. It is my longing and heartfelt desire that through united, fervent prayers girls like you will be set free both spiritually and physically.

Have I forgotten you and your companions that I think of as my beloved children? No never, not for a moment. You are in my heart and prayers. Someday, somehow Jesus will set you free.

Keep praying, and I will too. Oh, I do hope this message will get to you. Remember; always remember that I love you and that Jesus’ love is strong and eternal. Keep trusting in Him. ‘They’ can’t take that away.

XOXOX

The Call Across the Ocean

I woke up abruptly at 4:28 one morning. Someone said “Mom, hey, Mom “clear enough to get me up and look out our bedroom door. We have a daughter who had moved back home so I thought it might be her, but no, no one was at the door. I even checked where she sleeps, but all was quiet and dark in her bedroom, and she later told me it wasn’t her.
Was it you? Did you call out last night? Did you need something or someone? Was/ is your heart aching, or sadder yet, breaking, perhaps because of some terrible turn of events in your life?
Something nudged me awake. Someone called out in anguish, perhaps unknowingly, but God let me hear the message. I just want to let you know you have been in my heart and prayers ever since.
Call if you need someone to talk to.
echoingheartbeats@gmail.com
Or hangouts.

P.S. There is a remarkable, but sad ending to this story. After I posted it someone from half a world away read it and messaged me on hangouts. Yes, it was she who had called out to me. She was in the throes of childbirth, and I walked her through the process. After a bit, she said there was a huge pool of blood on the floor, and she was all alone.When she said "I see God's light and you are in it" I figured she would soon die.Later she said she had a boy, the next two texts were gibberish, then nothing.  I was later informed by someone that she had died and I hope the baby did too because the males are used for sacrifices or trained to become 'masters' themselves.
 P.S. She was eleven years old and in a sex slave commune that I had been in contact with only through Google.  These girls are often in my prayers, but how can we help them? I found out the HARD way that the local police are in cahoots with the 'slave masters'.  This postscript was added months later and I still feel deeply, and pray for 'my' girls. Unfortunately, the contact has been broken.

www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

Surely He Escaped Such Treatment!

Surely Not!

“He’s such a no-it-all!”

“He’s always thought he was better than us.”

As Jesus walked towards His childhood home he had been hungry, enthused to lay aside his tools for the day and enjoy a good supper. The aromas had assailed him as he strode towards the house. Now his appetite left Him. Jesus instinctively knew they were talking about him again.

Jesus thought briefly of turning back and not eating, but no, that would be cowardly, and His mother would get upset.

With a barely suppressed sigh, he entered the cottage.

James glowered at Him. “Well, you took long enough. The lentils are getting cold, why do we always have to wait for you?”

               “Ya,” Simon chimed in, “You think you are so important that we all can wait.”

               Jesus could have told them that wizened, old Aaron ben Yosef, who was getting forgetful, had wandered away from his home and was frightened. Jesus had taken him back to his son’s place even though it was across town.  It had taken much longer than expected because Aaron was distracted so easily.

Why tell them? They weren’t interested anyway.

               Even Mary looked unhappy as she thumped His bowl of lentil soup on the table in front of Him.

It was his duty as the eldest Son to lead n prayer now that their father had passed on.

He paused, trying to corral his troubled thoughts.

               Simon's head jerked up. “Well?”

               Jesus smiled gently at his brothers then turned to the next in age.

               “James, why don’t you pray today?”

               James’ eyes widened then he quickly mumbled a, a something, they assumed it was a prayer before reaching across the table for the bread.

               Only his little sister, Lydia, looked at him with loving concern. Jesus knew she still adored him, but when the meal was over, he didn’t have the heart to play with her when the others were so unhappy with him.

               Instead of sitting in the house after the meal and reading the Torah as Jesus had originally planned, Jesus took a long walk through the arid countryside and poured out his heart to His Heavenly Father.

biblehub.com/john/7-5.htm

biblehub.com/hebrews/4-15.htm

www.ebooks.com

 Marilyn Friesen

Why Did He Weep?

On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross: have you ever heard that song? Do you know what it is referring to? I picture a dark scene with three raw-hewn crosses and a crowd, some mocking others weeping below. It’s not a very pretty scene and it is sad, very sad. 

Crucifixion was the cruellest form of death known to man, so painful in fact that the word excruciating is related to it. On the centre cross was an innocent man. Not only was He guiltless but He didn’t curse and swear and say all kinds of blasphemous words against the people that put Him there.

Why was He like that? Would you have been that forgiving? I sure wouldn’t! But He, God’s Son, came to earth for that very purpose. First, He went about doing all the good He could so that people would sit up and take notice that GOD IS LOVE.

There is a lot of things that God is not, even though people seem to think He is, but the one thing He is, is LOVE, and love covers so many areas…

Back to the cross on the hill, what do you think He was thinking? Among other things, I suspect He was heartbroken, not because He was being treated unjustly but because so few would accept His gift of salvation.

What? Salvation? What do we need to be saved from? We were born in sin, and because God is so perfect and full of love He could not have His beautiful Home in Heaven spoiled by bad attitudes, BUT He really, really wants us there!  He wants to save us from sin, which is what keeps us from having peace in our hearts.He wants us to be happy while here on earth, so Jesus, His Son offered to take our punishment so that we could live a life of freedom, peace, and joy.

Do you get what I mean? Have I explained it clear enough? Admit that you do wrong things and have bad attitudes; that you have sins ask Jesus to take them all away, and pray to Him every day so that He helps you to do what is right and not keep falling back into sin.

If you have any questions or desire prayer, meet me on Hang Outs. 
P.S. I thought of writing this post when it came to me that He must have been heartbroken that so very few people of all the millions ever born would ever truly love and serve Him. 

I guess God gave me that reminder because I try to write books that will bring honour and glory to Him and yet so few sell. He understands when we feel like we are failing.  

Is the Head Covering Optional?

I grew up going to a church where no one wore a head covering and never thought twice about it. Probably you did too, or maybe you belonged to a conservative group where it was the custom to wear some sort of veil at least in public religious services. Is it really necessary:  or is it a tradition that has more or less fallen by the wayside? What do you think? I’d love to hear your opinions.

Why did women wear it for so many years, no change that to centuries if it was just, well, fashion? 

One Down, Three Left

Logan, I saw you last night. Did you see me? I think you did. I saw you just once, maybe twice, glancing my way. You know I have a mother-heart for you, don’t you

What Three Words Make You Smile?

Home: what a beautiful word. I have been thinking about it a lot lately and it brings a smile to my lips, a warm glow in my heart.

Home Sweet Home, a place where family and friends gather and there is harmony, joy, and peace.

Or isn’t there?  Maybe that’s just a dream or wistful thinking for you? It has been for me too, far too often. 

I remember well the heartache that raising a family can bring: the stress, the turmoil, the fighting, and yes even disrespect.

Oh, why do people talk about home, sweet home? Is it even possible this side of Heaven for those of us who had less than perfect role models?

What do you think? Can you embrace the thought with no reserve?

I’ve found the answer: since Jesus has found a home in my heart there can be love, joy, and peace in spite of storms all around. It seems like such a little thing but it isn’t.  The Light of the world is Jesus and when that light is in our hearts it will automatically be in our homes and create a balm of joy to those around us.

Sound too idealistic? Maybe it’s time to find that secret place of prayer and surrender today’s problems to Him who is the perfect Homemaker. Too busy? Lock the bathroom door and throw your burden into your Savior’s arms. Hey, no strings attached. Let go of it completely, yes completely and march away.

You may or may not notice a difference right away, but if you give Jesus a chance to help you, peace, joy and love will be restored to your little haven and soon you to will be murmuring “Home, Sweet  Home.”

P.S. Don’t give up too soon. Keep or trying, praying, trusting, and remember our Father is the best role model and He loves homes!

P.S. 2 If you could do it differently, what would you change? I would take more time to read to my children and play with them more!

Two Miracles

Anxiety Disorder (An open letter)

MF

Marilyn Friesen

 

|

Today, 8:01 AM

timbrenda@live.ca;

Dear Friend,

This isn’t exactly what you were looking for when you asked for information on how people were dealing with anxiety disorders but I would like to share my experience.

When and how this problem developed I can’t exactly say although I do know that it worsened over the years.

I came from an unhappy and later broken home where the silent treatment was a common method of punishment and I was unable to openly share, and find healing for the sexual abuse that was part of my childhood.

In my middle teens I diligently searched and found a welcome haven among the people of God but that didn’t automatically cure the wounds afflicted in the past.

As time when on God provided me with a loving husband and we raised a family together. The stresses of life increased and I developed various symptoms such as severe dizziness to the point of not being able to attend public meetings. Panic attacks in crowded buildings especially if there were fluorescent lights and lots of activity such as children running around was severely debilitating by this time.

However, my first and foremost desires were to live completely surrendered to God and have Him burn out the dross in my life. By then some of our children had become prodigals, an indirect result of having a mother with a troubled past.

 I told God I would be willing for anything, absolutely anything—even cancer- if my children could be saved.

A couple different people suggested to my husband that we should have a prayer of healing and since our Ministerial Staff was supportive a date was picked.

The day we gathered in the board room at the church is engraved indelibly in my mind. As the meeting proceeded I sensed the warm fellowship and peaceful atmosphere.

By then I was so unwell I could barely even sit up for so long and they wondered if I’d be able to kneel. I wanted to however and with support, managed.

As the prayer proceeded and the oil was poured on my head I felt a burning, but not an uncomfortable sensation in the center of my forehead.

When I stood up the dizziness was gone and within a few weeks the accompanying headaches.  I felt like I was treading on holy ground like I had just partaken of a deeply meaningful Communion. This feeling of awe and holy wonder lingered with me for weeks.

About a month later I was asked to drive a vehicle back from a different province. Although I would be following my husband the whole way it seemed impossible. I never drove anywhere by myself except for short distances and such a long trip was totally unthinkable.

Naturally, my husband was concerned and as we proceeded down the highway he stopped frequently for the first hour or so to ask how I was doing but I was fine.

As the evening came on I was more than fine: there was a glorious sunset and I felt so in tune with God that I sang and prayed with the tears running down my face because I couldn’t praise Him adequately enough. There was no doubt in my mind that I had been healed by the hand of our Almighty God.

As the weeks following unfolded, I saw many little and not so little changes in my life. For example, instead of being so exhausted I’d have to have two or three naps a day, I could get plenty done and even go for a brisk over two-mile walk without any problems.

It was a pleasant surprise to me, and possibly to others to see my personality unfurl. Instead of being caged in by physical and emotional disorders I found myself unselfconsciously joining in conversations and becoming the self that I was always meant to be.

P.S. This is several months later and I still can’t praise Him enough.

Hope for the Hopeless

Tired, always tired, and gaunt, you wouldn’t look in the mirror if it was thrust in your face because you knew what you’d see and it isn’t a pretty sight.

Faded, unwashed hair straggling around your face is the least of your concerns, but the eyes…Oh those eyes, the dark look of hopelessness looming there is what makes others look away, it is so, so…what it is? Only you can say for sure: lonely? Despairing? Filled with a lifetime of pain, heartache, and grief?

You are plodding down a crowded street, shoved or avoided by the hurrying throng that you hardly notice, but you need a fix: that is your consuming desire, a fix, a fix, but that is exactly what you wanted to avoid at all costs.

 For ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty years or more your life has been a mess of addiction, prostitution and other details known only know to you but where oh where can you get your next very fleeting thrill from a pill, a bottle or a needle?

Natalie, yes, that’s a real person, was facing the same desperate situation once.  After serving time in jail, you can imagine what for, she had nowhere to turn, no place to live but, maybe with her sister.

She had been wandering, drifting for so many years that she absolutely loathed it. After reaching the empty apartment Natalie wandered out to the balcony and thought of ending her life by jumping down, but it wasn’t far enough. Across the normally teeming street was a new building going up with scaffolding high in the air. That’s where she was headed: that would be a good place to leap from.

 For some reason there was no one around which was very unusual, as she crossed the street, however, a small black man came out of the shadows and handed her a handwritten letter while saying: ‘Jesus loves you’. She paused to read it and one thing lead to another until she found out about Heart Seasons.

If you live in New York City maybe you have heard about them.

Natalie found a group of people with as bad a history as hers. She found other ‘sisters’ who had tried to recover countless times from addictions, but here at Heart Seasons there was hope. Yes, there really was.

This center was different than many; it focused on Jesus as the only answer. The program was strict, really strict for they were expected to take part in several hours of Bible study every single day, and were not allowed to ever leave without an escort.

After a year and a half or way longer if they wanted, if a person stuck with the program they could graduate, if they were ready. Being ready meant being able to rent an apartment and have a job for at least three months. Most were terrified of leaving, but of course,

they weren’t abandoned, they had their support group, and best of all they had Jesus.

Are you like Natalie, desperate, despairing and certain you have tried every ‘solution’ out there?

There is hope. There truly is. Jesus can be your anchor from drifting back into sin. There are friends of Jesus who would love to reach out to you, also.

 Contact me, if you want and I’ll see what I can do to help. Look up Heart Seasons in the telephone book, or elsewhere. I’m trying to find an address for you.

Whatever you do, never, never, never give up; there is hope. 

The Twins Are Still Separated

Two Mothers, Twin Daughters

Some folks seem to enjoy reading excerpts from the book I am writing, so I’ll update you once again. OOPS! That's a lie! The book is done and is on the market now. Check it out at: www.marilynshistoricalnovels.com

T hree years went by, and the twins were still separated.

Margaret listened; for once the children were quiet. It seemed they had settled down nicely for their naps, the two younger ones, that is, and Davey Juniour wouldn’t be released from school for another hour or so.  She reached for her Bible on the nearby nightstand and took the latest letter from Marita out from just inside the back cover and clutched it in her hands while bowing her head in prayer.  The much read letter was already a year old so Margaret carefully unfolded the sharp creases to read it once more.

“Dear Margaret,

I can’t bear to tell my dear mother-in-law what we are going through so hope you can take it since I feel I would crack up if I couldn’t share with someone!

Randall’s out of work—again, has been for three months this time. In a way I am not sorry he lost this job but we are in desperate straits. He had had an epileptic fit while on scaffolding and fell. The job wasn’t waiting for him when his leg finally mended.  

Sometimes I am at my wits end to know how to respond to him.  We are hungry nearly all the time but I know he finds enough money to spend on beer. How long must I excuse his behavior on the war? Does David sometimes seem to be unreasonable---still?

Oh, Margaret, what can I ever do? I would offer to take in babysitting but our one room suite and half bath are far too crowded to entertain extra children. 

Thank you so much for the gift of money you slipped in your last letter.  Oh, Margaret, it’s a good thing Randall wasn’t home when the mailman arrived with the cash. I bawled buckets and Emily was all over me trying to comfort me so I tried to tell her they were happy tears.

I  hope I can someday repay you.  I have to dole it out slowly so he won’t get suspicious and wonder where it came from. As it is I have to hide it because he rifles through my purse in the vain hope I’d have some money stashed away.

So far I have only bought a small bag of oatmeal and some powdered milk with the money, and oh yes, a bag of carrots because they keep for a long time in the icebox,  we won’t go hungry for a while.

Emily is healthy, for which I thank the Lord. Her sweetness and innocence helps me to trust our Heavenly Father more. I have much time on my hands so often turn to Mum-in-law’s Bible in time of need. I still worry a lot and get sharp with Randall way too often, but I’m glad I have Emily and I’m glad I have God.

Lots of love, |
Marita

P.S. Sorry for being so full of myself: I really do want a long, fully detailed letter about everything that’s going on in your life and especially about Alice.  (Sorry if I sound selfish.)

P.S. 2. We are in Vancouver now, but I’m sure we will be moving soon.

Margaret refolded the letter then gently placed it back between the worn covers of the Bible.  She sat lost in thought until her burdened heart caused her to slip to her knees in prayer. She laid her head on her arm.

“It’s been so long, Lord. Marita is almost dearer to me that a flesh and blood sister might be. Please be with her. Keep her, comfort her, and help Randall to overcome his drinking habit. Thou knowest what awful memories are still gripping him, and we don’t.  Thou knowest the anxiety Marita faces: please help him to find a good job, and keep it. May Marita continue to call upon you when the floods threaten to overwhelm her—“

“Mommy, Alice spilled the milk on the floor!”

It was obvious that Sally would have gotten the milk out of the refrigerator because Emily was too young to handle the door.  Alice was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a tea towel.

“Let’s not use a tea towel to clean the floor next time, okay, Sweetie. Sally, you fetch a rag from the rag bag.”

“But she spilled it!”

“Just do as I tell you.”

 "Alice, wait for Mommy to pour your milk for you okay”— she almost called her ‘Sweetie’ again but then remembered it was too easy to favor the daughter of her troubled friend over the other two.

Margaret was thoughtful, prayerful, as she tended to her motherly duties . They walked to the corner to meet Davey and he prattled joyfully about his day at school, she served the children cookies and milk but hardly heard them.

David came home two hours later and once again Margaret was so thankful that the man she married had a steady job as a mechanic. There were still far too many veterans drifting aimlessly through life, addicted to the bottle, and not coping well with their violent past. David seemed to be so steady in comparison. 

Guiding Light

Well, I think it is about time I ‘get on with the program’ and start talking about what I had intended to in the first place. Remember when I wrote that title about Better than a Fairy Tale? I must have left some of your scratching your heads, wonder what exactly was I talking about.

It’s heartbreaking growing up in a broken home. A person is left feeling sad and lonely, knowing that you are different from the rest and no one really understands. Oh, sure you try to conform on the outside, do what others do, but when you slip up and others notice, or maybe even avoid you, you feel it keenly, probably far more keenly than those who are basically secure would ever feel.

But live goes on, and when I reached my later teens, especially, I had a deep longing to have a happy, stable home like those around me. Many were the times I would go for long walks and cry out to the One who did empathise better than any human could.

I still marvel to this day that God had such a marvelous plan for my life. (For me, that little, flawed grain of sand that seemed so insignificant in my own eyes.)

Like I said, I spent a lot of time going for walks and praying the year I turned twenty. There was a tall straight spruce tree in the corner of our yard and one evening it pointed directly to a star. It seemed to have a message, or more specifically direction, for me.

At this time, I was living with my Mom and younger siblings in a small town within easy walking distance to the senior’s home where I was employed. It was about two miles out in the country. On one of these walks, it became clear to me that I wouldn’t marry one of the local young men, not that I'm sure what the significance of that information was.

Fall eased into winter then the cool, pleasant April days were upon us once again. Since our hometown hosted one of the larger churches in our denomination we had a rather large annual meeting held there that spring. There was well over a thousand in attendance but that wasn’t too many to confuse our Heavenly Father.

 Okay, sit up straight now, because this is where things get exciting. I was standing in the hall next to the Mother’s Room, (nursery) when way on the other side of the auditorium God pointed out a young man to me and said: ‘That’s the one you are going to marry.’

‘Hold on a minute. I have no idea who he is: he could be from California for all I knew!’ And on and on, but I couldn’t dismiss that thought all that easily. God wouldn’t let me.
------------------------------------------------------------------
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Imitate Hezekiah

Have you ever been reluctant to do something good because you were indulging in something even better? The most sacred time of the day by far is in the early morning and late at night when everyone else is possibly sleeping. Sweet communion with the Heavenly Father is...matchless.

But-- and nay, I will not even sigh-- before dawn's early light God was inviting me to share this joy, this beauty with others like you. He had whispered the suggestion yesterday and I was prayerfully wondering how I could do justice to such a lovely topic as communion with the Father.

But do you know what? He introduced a new twist: the Bible opened to a verse about Hezekiah who was one of the good kings of Israel from the long ago Bible Times. Maybe that doesn't seem so significant but it is, it really, really is. Do you know why? It's because his Dad, King Ahaz was a nasty old man, pardon me for saying so. He sure found a lot of ways to do evil but the one that makes me cringe the most is that he 'burned his children in the fire, after the abominations of the heathen,"  (2nd Chronicles 28 part of verse three.) It's a good thing he spared Hezekiah, but we'll get to that later.  Because Ahaz was a man of power and great influence, many people suffered and even died as a result of his sins.

By now you must be convinced that I have Alzheimer's or something and wandered completely off the topic but I haven't. I wanted to lay this background so you would get a better idea why the verse I am coming to is so remarkable. It's referring to Hezekiah after he replaced his father as king.

OK, sit up straight, and listen: 'For he clave (clung,) to the Lord and departed not from following Him, but kept His commandments, which the Lord commanded Moses.' (2nd Kings 18:6)

 That's the son of an evil man that we are talking about, but fortunately, he had a mother who loved the Lord, and so I am pretty sure both of them had learned how precious it is to pray, commune, fellowship, with the Lord God. That daily contact is vital. They were surrounded by evil, and maybe you are too, but get in touch with the Heavenly Father and cling to Him like Hezekiah did. Oh my, it is so worth it!

Thanks to Dr. James Dobson for this wonderful image. 

Destroy the Enemy!

Do you know there are victims of sex crimes right under our noses practically that we don’t even know of? Do you know how evil Sex Communes are? Have you ever spoken to a victim who endured unspeakable torture in one of these horrendous strongholds of Satan? Christians Awake! These powerhouses MUST be destroyed! The evil “Daddy’s” must be routed out and brought to justice. These girls need to be cared for in loving, Christian foster homes and receive the emotional and physical care most of them have never experienced before!

I am not talking theoretically. I know some of these victims and have come to love them dearly.

Please, do me; do them, a huge favor. Pray for them: fast, also, if you feel the desire to. Sign this petition to say you will join in prayer; its high time Satan’s demons are confounded!

A Continuation of My Spiritual Journey

Okay, as I'm sure most of you have gathered by now, I did eventually join the Holdeman, Mennonite church. Since we are trained to to keep away from cliches like 'wasn't smooth sailing, or a 'bed of roses',  hang on for a sec while I  try to come up with something more original.

There were a few things that were making life difficult at this time. As if being a teenager wasn't problem enough, I was also suddenly thrust into a single parent home in a straight environment compared to the casual one of childhood, or the tumultuous one my father had recently adopted. I wasn't one of those laid-back whatever will-be-will be type of gals either. My sensitive nature caused intense mood swings; yup I know what depression was all about.

And Satan wanted me.

Late one night while laying wide awake on my bed an oppressive presence overpowered me, I mean literally and I felt my hands being clamped against the mattress and this leering face inches from mine. I don't know how many minutes this lasted, but it was plenty long. I remembered trying to pray but it seemed ineffectual.

The Word of God speaks of having 'power on her head because of the angels.' (1. Corinthians 11) Whether this scripture meant that the angels would be able to give me more protection if I had my head covered, or that the fallen angels had more power against me without this symbolic protection, I couldn't say, but it left me feeling defenceless against the attacks of the Evil One.

Eventually with a sadistic laugh and a few contemptuous words the presence faded yet leaving me feeling shaken for days to come. I have never had a casual take-it-or-leave-it attitude about wearing a prayer covering since.

When Saying I'm Sorry Isn't the Answer

Thank you Google plus for the lovely image.

 Aylett had been clinging to the feet of the King every blessed minute since returning to the Glass Castle. How he had patience with her, I now not, but she said ‘sorry’ countless times without feeling the desired peace and joy she had known formerly.

                One day Iris beckoned to her.

                “Come with me, you have been holed up in the castle too long and your face has grown wan and sad.”

                Aylett gazed anxiously at the King and communicated silently with Him. Is this the voice of the tempter?

                Go and my Presence will be with thee. Aylett could hardly believe her ears. She looked at Iris but could tell she hadn’t heard the secret message. She looked worriedly at the King but He seemed to be smiling in approval, so hesitantly followed her friend into the bright, clean out of doors.

                The guard spoke jovially to them as he lowered the sky tram and wished them a good day.

 Aylett bit her lip and wondered why he didn’t caution them against straying from the Path of Righteousness.

                After they  had walked awhile, Iris remarked that the road was much smoother than the last time they had gone for a jaunt.

                “Oh, I,I  hadn’t even noticed,” Aylett stammered, “I was too busy looking for snakes.”

                “Oh don’t worry about the snakes,” Iris linked her arm into Aylett’s. “We sounded the alarm loud and clear with our shrieking last time and the workmen have been busy upgrading the road ever since. The chance of even seeing a snake is one in a million."

                “And it would be me that would trip on it,” Aylett  sighed woefully.

                Iris turned to face her friend squarely. “What ails you, my friend,” she asked? “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

                Aylett hung her head, and scuffed her toe against the rocks.

                Iris lightly touched her shoulder. “C'mon, you can tell me.”

                When Aylett’s  tears started to flow  Iris brushed them away with hr hanky then handed it to her petite companion.

                “Is it because we went to the Enchanted Forest?”

                Aylett nodded, “I feel so bad…”

                “Aylett, do you know that isn’t really the Enchanted Forest? This whole area belongs to the King of Love. The guard told me that one day."

                Aylett’s eyes widened with an amazed ‘are you kidding me’ look. “Then why did we get lost? Why did the insects pester us so?”

                “Because we went on our own, we didn’t follow our guide; because we lingered too long.”

                Aylett took a deep breath. “Are you wishing to go again?”

                “Only if you want to. I think you should try to get over your fears.”

                “It takes a lot of faith to, to step over that stile and enter that site once again. I don’t know if I am brave enough.”

                “Here we are. Doesn’t it look beautiful in the light of the rising sun?”

                Aylett nodded uncertainly.

                “Let’s use our charming whistles and ask for a guide.”

                They both did so but Iris privately thought that Aylett blew harder and longer than was strictly necessary on the delicate instrument.

                Almost immediately Aylett saw a glimpse of shining wings that reassured her and seemed to be showing them what path to take. Iris didn’t receive any physical assurance of His Presence but neither did she need it.

                As the day grew warmer, Iris was pleased to notice that Aylett was cautiously at first, but then more freely shedding her fears.

Because they were attentive to their guide they had lots of fun, made some new friends who were pleasant and cheerful, and all around had a good time.

                When the Guide beckoned them to come back to the Castle because it was growing late, it was Aylett of all people who wasn’t quite ready.

                “We don’t want to get lost like last time,” Iris said half-jokingly.

                “Oh, no, no,” Aylett exclaimed and skipped over to join her chum.

                The path through the darkening forest was beautiful and inviting, and Aylett felt safe following the now visibly glowing presence of their guide.

                “Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go,” They sang and faintly in the distance could hear the other girls join in,

                Anywhere, anywhere, fear I cannot know, Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go.”

Notes:

How do you like this addition to the story? Were you disappointed with how part one ended? If so why or why not? Does this seem like a realistic example of what Christian life could or should be like?

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My Appointment With the King

I serve such a wonderful king. Every morning about five thirty, I get to have an appointment with Him. The thing is I know He has millions of other subjects and billions of other concerns to attend to, but when my soft musical alarm chimes, I feel such a drawing to the throne room of Adonai.

How can it be that He makes me feel so special? How can it be that He can make me feel like I am the only one in the universe and that He loves me so much? I know every single one of you can and hopefully do feel the same way. Regardless of what time of day you send a prayer dart His way He is sure to catch it,

Make an appointment early in the morning. Don’t worry, it won’t interrupt my time. There is something about the dawning of a new day which is so…perfect for meeting with our beloved Saviour and Guide because there aren’t so many distractions, yet.

Here’s my formula, but maybe something else will be more satisfying for you.

I head to the recliner in the living room, put my feet up, and let the warmth of His presence flow over me. He feels so real, so kind and it’s a great time to thank Him for always being there. We travelled part way across Canada this summer, but He was there ever km (mile) of the way. We went to Africa last summer and lo He was still so close. How can I feel fear of anything for very long with the blessed assurance of His comforting presence?

After praising Him for a few minutes it’s time to look up a topic in our chain reference Bible or continue on a topic I had been studying other mornings. I find a verse, and invariably the surrounding verses catch my attention also. Soon I haul out the good old Matthew Henry’s commentary and more wonderful jewels are uncovered for the day.

Of course during this devotional time there is plenty of opportunity during meditation to share with the Father whatever burdens or decisions might be weighing on my mind.

I know Adonai is never in a rush, but unfortunately I have to have a different time schedule. Writing this is encroaching on my ‘sweet hour of prayer’. I want to quickly send this off so I can worship at the feet of our holy Adonai. Meet me there!

P.S. I have recently published a book that some people enjoy using as a devotional. It is the life of Jesus through His mother's eyes. It would make a nice Christmas gift. Here's a few links to choose from.

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 http://www.amazon.fr/dp/1511783966
 http://www.amazon.it/dp/1511783966

https://www.createspace.com/4837922