Bottom of the Bottle -A Jesus Story Box Story

I blurred back into consciousness to find I still couldn't hold my baby. My arms too alcohol heavy, my body too dizzy with drink.

I couldn't bear to be around her crying, her wanting me to be able to comfort her, to hold her in strong, soothing arms. What real Comfort could extend to her? What strong arms? All I knew were spirits that filled me first a fun fuzzy distracted, then achingly lonely and empty and dark and weak.

I stumbled outside to throw up, dropped to my hands and knees in the front yard grass, sick in body and soul over my self induced, helpless state. I covered my face with clammy hands, shame streaming liquid hot down my dulled exterior.

The deepest heaving welled up, I couldn't contain the cry of my own infant heart and screamed it over and over, into the face of the Father God that felt so far away in the isolating dark.

"God PLEASE don't let her suffer for my mistakes... PLEASE don't let me stay like this... PLEASE don't let her turn out like me... Oh, God, PLEASE..."

And as I screamed into the dark my younger brother told me to quiet, that I was drunk and would wake people up. It was he who had carried me in from the car I had come home in, the one that didn't even make to the driveway, but only onto the street. He had followed me outside. It was he who I had felt so harshly judged by all my growing up years, he who didn't now know if he believed in God... it was he who sat witness to my deep sickness and my expulsion of it. I needed to be rid of my sickness so desperately that I did not care. Where is pride in the dark of hell?

My response was more scream-prayer interrupted only by my retching in my wretchedness. I was as drunk as I had ever been, but I knew what I was praying. I knew I was talking directly to the God who made the grass I knelt in, the night I wept in, the child who I couldn't care for that was given to me to raise in knowledge and truth of Him.

And I was wild for the arms of this Father of compassion, this unknown God of all comfort, Who I was told loved me even more than I despised myself.

And He stooped down.

And He spoke The Light into the blackest heart of my fears, and gave me Peace.

"I have heard you. Don't be afraid, I have answered your prayer."

And He did.

He has.

He does.

"I sought the LORD, and he answered me;

he delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to him are radiant;

their faces are never covered with shame.

This poor man called, and the LORD heard him;

he saved him out of all his troubles."

~Psalm 34:4-6

What response can there be to such patient Love poured out? A Love that fills with Spirit to overflow joy and peace and self-control?

"I will extol the LORD at all times;

his praise will always be on my lips.

My soul will boast in the LORD;

let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

Glorify the LORD with me;

let us exalt his name together...

Taste and see that the LORD is good!"

~Psalm 34:1-3,8

And that witnessing brother now loves the LORD our God, and I count him among my best friends. He confirms in soberness that he felt the sustained presence of God in a tangible way that night, all during my drunken prayer.

What manner of Love is this?

counting His graces with thanks today, because I feel strongly that if I keep quiet, even the stones would cry out...

#546-560

two whole days at home--in a row!

tiny clothing in soft and bright colors

hard working husband taking a sabbath

how easily children become "best friends" with other children

nightly family prayer

noticing lots of movement from the 21 week old in my womb

glue sticks and scrapbook paper and free printables

letter from sponsored child

girl-made birthday card

He. Is. Rest.

these bands 'round the fourth finger of my left hand, the man that put them there

sharing in His pain

songs with the exact words I am bursting to express to Him

clean surfaces

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows."

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Real Hope for the Hard Questions

In part because I have made much of my testimony public, I was asked this past January 23rd to speak to my church family on the topic of the Sanctity of Human Life. I wanted to share what God laid on my heart in this simple place. Thank you for grace.

When I walked up to the stage as I was introduced, our worship leader was going to hand me the microphone, and I requested that it be put on a stand. My hands were shaking so badly I didn't want that to be a distraction. Let me hide behind a podium please, public speaking is not my thing. I won't even go into the trouble I had deciding on an outfit, my main goal to not be a distraction. Anytime my usual jeans and t-shirts won't do it is a challenge for me.

After the mic was arranged I, the awkward girl that I am, said a shy smiling "testing, testing? Okay, good."

I clutched the sparkling plastic broach my five year old had handed me, and began with my explanation as to why...

"Good morning,

I was telling my daughter, Selah, how nervous I was to speak today and she handed me this broach and said: 'mom, if you do a really good job and everyone cheers really loudly then I will give you this.'"

I held up the broach to smiling faces that know my daughter's spunkiness so well.

I smile back and a little of the tension leaves my jaw "So, this is what is at stake here. "

I continue, knees shaking, trying not to sway.

"When I was asked to share, I had many thoughts right away. I thought about statistics and information about the Pregnancy Center. Because of my testimony, which I know many of you know parts, or all, of my story, I have had the privilege of speaking on this topic of the Sanctity of Human Life before... but one of the first thoughts that kept pressing into my mind was this:

If I hadn't had an abortion at 18, I would have an almost seven year old right now.

That reality just struck me in a fresh way this time in preparing. My parents would have an almost seven year old grandson(at least, I think the baby was boy), and my siblings would have another nephew.

It's so strange and heartbreaking to think about because once you have a child, you just can't imagine your life without them. I have been blessed with two girls since, a five year old and a one year old.

I also had an abortion scheduled for my 5 year old, but God stepped in and stopped me, that is a different story for a different time.

God has used my daughter, Selah, in so many ways to teach me about Him, about myself, about life and others. One of the things that God brought to my attention through Selah from a very young age was how often people did not use words literally, or they would say them in a very dramatic way.

One recent example is when my mother-in-law was commenting on the weather and said it was "raining cats and dogs". Selah, of course, went into a several minute monologue about how it wasn't actually, literally, raining cats and dogs. She also has been very aware of when my siblings would use heavy words, like love and hate, lightly.

I think that words have lost a lot of their weight and meaning because they are so often misused and misunderstood. I think abortion is definitely one of those words.

There is so much deception surrounding this issue of abortion. I think a major factor that feeds that deception is silence. So much about this topic is not spoken about.

The woundedness that happens that leads girls to make this type of life and death decision often happens in quietness, isn't spoken about. And the abortion, the death, happens quietly and isn't spoken about afterward.

I remember when I was sitting in the waiting room of a Planned Parenthood in Houston, and everyone was so quiet. We filled out our intake papers quietly, got called by a nurse quietly, when down a quiet hall, had a several minute, relatively quiet procedure, and then were quietly wheeled into a recovery room and placed between two thin sheets that separated each of us from the other girls in the room. We lay there with the heating pads over our empty wombs bleeding quietly and crying quietly. Or some, like me, didn't cry at all.

Breaking the silence and deceptiveness surrounding this issue is a big part of what I wanted to address today. And that is where you come in. It truly does not matter if you are a boy or girl, man or woman, young or old, this issue applies to you.

And I know that a few of you feel called to volunteer at the Pregnancy Center, or to work with Texas Right to Life, or other pro-life organizations, but for the majority of us, that probably is not what God is calling you to do.

But this still applies to you.

Here is why: only you have your specific sphere of influence. Only you have your particular, special, individual relationship to your family, your friends, in your workplace, in school, in your church.

And after two years of counseling at the Pregnancy Center, and several years since, I can tell you that so much of the need in this area never makes it to the counseling room.

I have spent countless more hours counseling outside the Pregnancy Center than inside it.

I believe that this is part of loving God with all our minds to always be prepared and able to give a reason for the Hope that is within us.

So in order to restore meaning to the word abortion, and break through some of the deceptiveness that surrounds it(i.e. just because abortion is legal does not make it right), I think there are several things every person should know.

1) The details matter. As uncomfortable and as heart-breaking as it will be, the details matter. I personally had an abortion and could not have told you specifically what happened until my education with the Pregnancy Center before I became a counselor.

I have often heard abortion compared to the Holocaust. If hearing the word "Holocaust" turns your stomach inside out it is probably not because you know the final death toll of all the lives lost, but it is a specific story about a child, a family, or maybe a picture, that made that horrific time more real to you.

It is the same with abortion, hearing the ever-growing number of lives lost or simply knowing that abortion kills a baby isn't enough-it doesn't pierce our hearts like details do. The details matter.

2) It is important for each person to know the resources available to help the girl in need. Knowing what your local network offers spiritually, physically and emotionally is critical. It will knock the legs out from under their very real and socially acceptable objections, and leave you open to talk about their deeper fears and concerns. This applies to men as well. The male figure in a crisis pregnancy situation is critical for many, many reasons. And I firmly believe that men should minister to men, and women to women.

3) I cannot stress how important it is to know how to love and accept the struggling person while still rejecting their wrong thinking/sin. So often people do one or the other, "accepting" the person and "whatever they choose", or rejecting the person as one with their mistakes. Both are extremely damaging.

4) I think the 4th and most important thing we each have to know is the Word-in the person of Jesus Himself-and the word He's written down for us. The Bible is our only sword in this quiet, raging battle against women and their unborn children.

These things cannot be covered in this short time frame, but Jim(our Pastor) has graciously given me permission to teach an abortion education class where I will cover the four points I highlighted. I will also be sharing the process God lead me through to share His love and goodness-in more churchy terms the gospel- in an individualized and non-offensive way with others. This was an extremely humbling and challenging thing to do. I had never had to share the gospel face to face with someone before. And God was so gracious in how He taught me what to say.

I would be honored for you to come and talk about these things with me, you may be surprised at what, and who, God entrusts you with.

**The class is February 11th, from 5:30 p.m.-7 p.m. Contact me for more details if you are interested.**

My Jesus Story Box: The Ring Box

Little Girl loves to pick it up, open and shut, open and shut. The paper holds little interest for her now, but someday, when love stirs her heart, she'll reach for the words that will set a standard she may not even know she has.

It is one of the most precious moments of my life, but oh, it is His glorious story.

* * * * * *

"Are you ready to read the Proverb for the day?"

I stop buzzing around and lay the long day down, look up into soft smiling eyes. His, hazel-green and gold flecked.

It was his hair that first caught my attention...

... but his eyes that held me, a too-young sixteen, a curious, quiet-deep that drew people to him(who was I to resist?). That hasn't changed. But now, with the Spirit behind them, magnetic pull intensified, inspiring these words I only dreamed of hearing a long year ago.

Lips curl happy. "Sure, your Bible or mine?"

He, the cool-cat, says it calm, shoulder-shrugged " Yours..."

I toe-turn immediately to retrieve our newly shared Treasure, Gold hidden under layers of each hour-stacked day. His asking brings soul-singing, an answer to my years-long prayers for this man to be after His own heart. It is a recent routine, this Proverb reading, and I love and look forward to it.

I settle in snuggled, leaning back against the pillowed wall, right in the center of the twin bed. He takes his usual place on the floor beside the low frame, kneeled close and lounging. I ask it, expectant, hopeful "Did you want to read, or me?" I love his reading voice, the way the scriptures fall fresh, many seen by his eyes for the first time. He often asks questions unashamed, and I realize how much I take for granted, all those years my parents taught me all about Him.

"Why don't you read this time?"

A little surprised but unruffled, I turn familiar pages, underlined in inks of blue, black and red... some pencil too, from my first soul-stretching days. Find the Proverb 25, run words and fingers down the page.

And right at the end I see it there, all purple and square, with his familiar man-neat scrawl. The sticky note reads: "Please see Ephesians 5:21-28".

The corners of my mouth twitch but I force them still. I try to keep thoughts from pounding my impatient curiosity out in a happy-squeal. Could this be it?

I flip quickly, feel his eyes on mine. I read. "Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord...Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her...In the same way, husbands ought to love their wives as with their own bodies."

I let the smile go so my face won't burst, read the next purple square: "Please see Colossians 3:18-20"

Fingers fly, and I grin it, chin shaking "... Husbands love your wives and do not be harsh with them."

I follow the "Please see 1 Timothy 3:1-5" and squeak it out, unable to look at his face "... the husband of but one wife..."

Tremble over to "Please see Hebrews 13:4-6" and whisper-stumble through "1 Peter 3:1-5" and then I see it, folded and tucked tightly against the binding that holds all these Joy-words together.

Blue-print lined and laid out, vulnerable lines of life-plans, confidence summed up with a question mark.

I brim and blur from the first line, he, who once said some several years ago "I think evolution is true. I don't believe in a God, sitting up on a cloud, waving a magic wand over humanity..." now writes strong and sure:

"There is One God and He is Almighty."

Eyes spill hot, like so many liquid prayers that he, this man so-long loved, would write that, know that. The second line, too:

"He sacrificed His One Son to pay the ultimate price for our sins."

My cup overflows. I read on, all beautifully undone:

"Under His covenant, man is to marry one woman

and they are to become "one."

Not one day passes in which I do not enjoy

the LORD's gifts and creations...

You are one of those special gifts!

I want to be one husband, one man, one leader

and one good role model to you.

This one time I ask you, will you be my one wife?"

One tear drops soft next to the drawn ring that reads "one" and I whisper it past the gorgeous held-out solitaire right into his deep tenderness, "Yes!"

* * * * * * *

And I know it now more than ever, see new shoots from solid roots going deeper, that there is but One God, and Oh, He is Mighty to save.

We are new!

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our “God is a consuming fire.”

~Hebrews 12:28-29

He consumes, and gives beauty for ashes.

When Stress is Threatening to Consume You

I lay my cheek against the cool countertop and breathe, breathe, breathe. Heart-whispered prayers that are nearly choked out, the ache of stress in my chest.

Husband stills and asks concerned " are you okay, dear?..."

My throat feels closed shut and I can't squeak out an answer. I breathe short, simple prayers in these constricted moments, warm vapor vanishing over cool stone.

I pray and practice, my body testifying to the spirit's strain and stretching, this hard training of taking thoughts captive to Christ so I remain free.

And I recognize this strain and pain and I pray that it would not be a sin against Him, He who I trust with my very life. And I remember His words to not worry, and that He will provide, and does this stress mean I don't really believe Him, does this mean I have little faith?

I struggle with this as much as the decisions to be made and the days to be lived.

And He is strong beyond comprehension but His hands are so gentle as they cup my face in loving encouragement, that I am reminded that stress itself is not necessarily a sin. These Hands that hold all the world together once wiped away sweat-blood dripping down His own face, a physical reaction to what the Spirit knew was coming. Physical, emotional, spiritual agony that my deepest ache cannot even imagine. And He even knew the happy ending to the story.

These trials, too, are imminent. They are unfolding and on their way to greet me, some already close enough to kiss me.

I have prayed and I know this cup will not pass, and I am a willing party to His beautiful plan of redemption. And, oh, what grace that I should ever be allowed to have any part in His work.

But moments come when I can barely breathe.

Still, all my moments are gladly His. I inhale and exhale ragged and worn still wearing this peace armor because His grace is sufficient for me, Jehovah Jireh, Jehovah Rapha.

And truly that is all they are, moments, only moments of His story.

I have nothing but these moments to try to bring Him glory, and who knows how many more I shall have?

I steel against myself and refuse to practice the habit of taking hard moments for granted, and isn't that what I do when I view them as just something to make it through?

I don't want to miss this point of all this, I don't want to struggle and miss the lesson, the gift.

And I am learning, slowing, that if I take this moment without gratitude, am I not forgetting the awesome wonders He worked such few moments ago?

"Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them."

~Deuteronomy 4:6

Through so many situations, in so many ways, He reminds me again to remember. Remember. Remember and bear witness to what I've seen, to Who I know, to not let these things slip from my aching, stubborn, forgetful heart as long as I live.

So in lifestyle and words I teach what He has done, My Jesus Story Box full of reminders.

I think long of the first line of Husband's unexpected proposal, a Jesus-story I will share soon, and it sums up my reason for breathing, for gratitude, for remembering, even when it hurts.

"There is One God, and He is Almighty..."

Practicing the Habit of Remembering...

When Your Vision is Blurry

Sometimes, waiting for Jesus to come can seem so long. A longing for Him to fix all this brokeness... all this mess we wallow in.

Sometimes the tears just won't stop.

Sometimes the vision blurs.

Often times I must, again and again, actively remember His great faithfulness...

My godson Connor, who almost wasn't...

Baby Jayson, who almost wasn't... and client turned friend, Rosalind...

Husband and I, reborn, redeemed...

godson Nathaniel: "God's Gracious Gift", A God who changes us through Grace...

Mama Lindsay and Selah, who almost wasn't...

goddaughter Iliana, who almost wasn't...

The honor of being a wife and mom... grace upon undeserved grace...

And SO. MUCH .MORE.

Remember.

Give praise to the LORD, proclaim his name;
make known among the nations what he has done.
Sing to him, sing praise to him;
tell of all his wonderful acts.
Glory in his holy name;
let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice.
Look to the LORD and his strength;
seek his face always.

Remember the wonders he has done,
his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced,
you his servants, the descendants of Israel,
his chosen ones, the children of Jacob.
He is the LORD our God;
his judgments are in all the earth.

He remembers his covenant forever,
the promise he made, for a thousand generations...

~1 Chron. 16

Great is Thy faithfulness... Morning by morning new mercies I see...

...Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be 'til I die...

Be Thou my vision O LORD of my heart...

A New Name

It takes quite a lot of effort to really remember my life before her.

This beautiful little girl, entrusted to me to steward, parent, play with, grow with. What kind of wild, unrestrained, staggering Grace is given me?

He pierced my heart with her and poured Himself in. He gave me a new life, New Life, adopted me as His own. He gave me His name.

Now it is time for her to take my Husband's name, the only Daddy she's ever known.

And we've talked about Moses, Samuel, Esther, and Jesus... all beautifully planned "adoption" stories.

He planned this beautiful, intentional, redemption story, too.

I don't know what all this story will hold, but I know it's going to be glorious.

Counting thanks today with all my lovely, adopted Christ-family from A Holy Experience...

#107 the privilege of being a mom

#108 celebrating advent for the first time as and adult, thank you, Ann!

#109 unexpected, encouraging text messages from my sweetheart Husband of almost two years now

#110 baby saying "na na na!" over and over so I will tickle her and play with her, toothy grin and all!

#111 Selah choosing to re-write certain things in her school, because she wants to do so well, wants me to be pleased. I am pleased, Selah! So proud of you.

#112 that's it is time to write love letters again!

#113 having too many cute pictures to choose from

#114 roof to protect us from the rain

#115 bearing His name

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him"

~1 Cor. 2:9

Selah

She holds the tiny baby wrapped in soft pink felt and asks to hear to the story again. How her story began.

How do I tell her I almost killed her?

How can I explain why I didn't?

I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. My five year old bundle of joy and life that almost wasn't.

I can't say I already had the appointment scheduled at the same place I had paid for her sibling to be aborted the year before.

I can't say I did drugs to try to make myself go through with it.

I can't say I tried to commit suicide and longed for my own death before ending the life of (another) baby growing inside me.

We snuggle and she wriggles with excitement. She stares, stares, stares at the baby doll in her palm.

"Well..." I breath in deep, those memories, those years. I feel the pain throbbing behind my scarred heart.

"But this is a joyful story" He whispers. I take His offered hand, we walk back to that dominion of darkness that He rescued me from together. His light keeps me from being overwhelmed.

She needs to know He alone can rescue. She needs to hear this story. He knew it would be her story.

She tries to wait patiently for the few moments it takes me begin. She grins from ear to ear and covers her hand with her mouth to try to hide her overflowing excitement. She is about to burst with joy.

I try not to burst into tears.

I smile into her glowing face "I love you so much!"

She wriggles closer, waiting. Hand over grin.

"Well... this baby doll reminds me of what God did in my life through you."

She can barely take it. I'm not talking fast enough for her. But my mind is rushing and my tongue is thick and slow and I have to take every thought captive and stay here and not go back there and remember that I am a new creation in Him.

Him.

My history is His story. Not mine. He is the Main Character. It is His Story Box.

I can continue now. "... Before I had you, I didn't love or follow God." My tender eyes meet her wide ones. Her face says: does mom really mean that? Could that be true?

"... I did a lot of really bad things. But Jesus still loved me. He loved me so much, He gave me you..."

I had begged God to show me His realness. To stop me from destroying myself and every good thing that came my way. To hold me. To love me. Selah is the first good thing that survived me in a long time. He answered my prayers, but in a way I did not expect.

O LORD, the king rejoices in your strength.

How great is his joy in the victories you give!

You have granted him the desire of his heart

and have not withheld the request of his lips.

Selah

You welcomed him with rich blessings

and placed a crown of pure gold on his head.

He asked you for life, and you gave it to him—

length of days, for ever and ever.

Psalm 21:1-4

She smiles unashamedly. She knows that of course she is a blessing. I have said it a thousand times.

"... God taught me all about love through you. He changed my life, and your Daddy's life, and lots of people in the family, and He helped save other peoples lives through you like Connor and Iliana..."

The names of my god-children bring a fresh wave of smiles. They are her dear friends. God saved them from a similar fate.

"...God has very, very special plans for you!"

She holds the baby. I hold mine, growing into a young woman, babyness long left behind. My arms overflow with His reward. We smile.

This is His story. He rescues. He redeems. He rewards. He loves. Oh, how He loves.

Praise the LORD, O my soul;

all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

Praise the LORD, O my soul,

and forget not all his benefits—

who forgives all your sins

and heals all your diseases,

who redeems your life from the pit

and crowns you with love and compassion,

who satisfies your desires with good things

so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

~Psalm 103:1-5

Counting thanks today... overwhelmed by Grace...

#58 Selah

#59 That He forgives all my sins

#60 That He heals all my diseases

#61 That He redeemed my life from the pit

#62 That He crowned me with love and compassion

#63 That He satisfies my desires with good things

#64 That He would reward me after all I've done

#65 That He never leaves me or forsakes me

#66 That He remembers that I am dust

#67 That He promises His righteousness not only to my children, but also to their children

#68 second chances

#69 That He can create a new person out of an old one

#70 He makes beautiful things out of the dust

#71 That one lost lamb is worth His time

#72 He brings me home

My Jesus Story Box

She clutches it close, grins wide and bright eyed.

"And then what happens??" She is riveted, giggling in anticipation.

I tell her these tales again and again, she never tires of these stories. But she wants to know, needs to know, to double-check just one more time: " did this happen in real life?"

Yes, my sweet darling, these stories are true. 

These are my Jesus stories. These are my stones of remembrance. I keep them in a simple photo box, with His words reminding me what stones are and are not meant for, reminding me to remember.

I can forget so easily.

I don't want to.

So often I have heard and read of stories of amazing things God has done... but I rarely personally know the individual who actually had the experience of God's direction, protection, intervention, vision, or miracle in their life. I have privately asked the question "did this happen in real life?"

Last spring I co-led a women's small group at my church through Believing God by Beth Moore. In one section Beth encourages the reader to write down a timeline of notable things God has done in your life, personal stones of remembrance. This was very helpful to me in many ways. It helped me recall and recognize God's beautiful orchestration in my life. But because I am (at least) as forgetful as the Old-Testament Israelites, I wanted some 3-D reminders of God glorious works in my life. Something I would see to draw me to His feet in praise "Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I'm come..."

I actually considered stacking up huge stones. Well, having someone with muscles stack them for me, I'm not exactly known for upper body strength.

But that idea didn't seem very Baby friendly. My 11 month old is nicknamed "baby godzilla" by her adoring and ever-so-patient older sister. The description is quite accurate. I wanted to avoid a miniature Samson episode, so other options had to be explored.

In my experience all children share a certain trait, regardless of personality. Curiosity. When God commanded the Israelites to set up stones as a reminder of the awesome miracle He had just done by cutting off the flow of the river Jordan so they could cross over on dry land, I think God intended the stones to spark the natural curiosity of the Israelite children. I have chosen items in My Jesus Story Box specifically to inspire my children to ask "what do these stones mean?".

True, some things that are exposed about me in these stories are not glamorous. In fact, they are down right hideous. But He is the Main Character of these stories, I am not. And He is beautiful all the time. He is the only reason why all the stories have happy endings. I want my children to know Him more that I want to hide my weaknesses. I want them to know He is alive and active and involved in every person's life. Even mine. Even theirs. He is the same miraculous God of old, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Right now I tell Selah the 5 year-old appropriate versions of these stories, the depth of the stories will grow as she does. But I pray the Truth about God will be the common thread she holds onto from now into adulthood.

Selah also has her own story box with a couple of stones of remembrance. She loves it so much, she is actively looking for Jesus' work in her life so she can add to her box. "He loves us so much, mom! " she says. "He must have done that so we could have this story in our box!...".

I believe we are hard-wired to love stories. We are part of one, and each one of us has a part that the One and Only considered worth His very life.

What would happen if we all shared our stories, His stories, with one another? Might you consider starting your own Jesus Story Box? A place for tangible pieces of evidence of God's hand in your life? We can each witness to what we know of Him, and pass on and recall His faithfulness to our oh-so-forgetful hearts.

God spoke this to me back in April, and it has been on my heart ever since: "Stones, are also for building."

What if? What if we all built up a wall together instead of stoning each other? What if we as believers all lined up our stones of remembrance that God has given us? What God has done for us should be shouted from the mountaintops! His mercy, goodness, and work in our lives is the proper lens to view ourselves, and others, and God through. With such a massive wall of God's faithfulness surrounding us how could we struggle with faithlessness? With our forgiven sins and evidence of our redemption reaching up to the sky how could we struggle with judgement? Would not the love that completely surrounds us force our lips open in praise to Him?

"I tell you," he replied," if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out."

Luke 19:40

Let us build together!

"The God of heaven will give us success. We his servants will start rebuilding"

~Nehemiah 2:20

I look forward to sharing my stories with you in the upcoming days and weeks... and I hope to hear some of yours!

Glorify the LORD with me! Let us exalt His name together!