Posts Tagged ‘Sunday Devotion’





Father God gave me this word on 19 August 2009. It was true then, it’s true now. Nothing takes Him by surprise.

I am there.  Selah.

In every event, I am there.  I am there before you—and I prepare the way for you.  But I tell you this—I am there before it happens, for I am eternity.  I see the beginning from the end and the end from the beginning.  I know the plans I have for you—I know each step and every stumble, I know each hardship and every victory.  And I am there with you—I am there before you are there.  For I go before you to prepare the way for you.

But your enemy—he is running to catch up.  Even catastrophes at his own design, he is late.  I am there—he is not.  He is distracted by his own busy-ness—and he cannot keep up.  Even you, my child, my beloved, endure hardships and suffering before he can catch up.  You know your joy and victory and release before your enemy remembers and realizes it has even begun.

And in his flurry in these last days, his carelessness and sloppiness increase. His efforts become more and more futile.  Even the disasters and catastrophes of his hand have less impact.  For the harder he makes his attempts, the sillier they become.  The harder he tries, the greater the decrease of the impact of his efforts.  And the further he sinks.

But look to Me says the Lord of Hosts.  For My efforts remain steady and yet the results increase.  For every heart that is turned to me, revival is magnified, My Kingdom is glorified and I am there in the midst of you.

These are the days of Elijah—behold, I come and I am with you in all things, in every moment.  I have been where you are—and I know the plans I have for you.

041623 - blue heron - front porch fellowship images


#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, I Am There

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I share with you a message received from a close friend today. Read and be blessed.


“I think about the first century followers of Jesus on this day after the crucifixion. I can’t imagine their grief, abject disappointment, sorrow and hopelessness. Their one hope was dead. The believers thought He was coming as a political leader who would take over the corrupt evil government and religious leaders of the day. It dawns on me that we are in a similar posture of waiting. We are waiting for the return of our coming King. We are disappointed and grieving the corruption and evil we see in our time. We see the demise of our beautiful country and struggle to raise up humans to guide and lead us… We wait for Jesus to come. He told his disciples He would rise again on the third day. They KNEW what he said. But they didn’t necessarily believe Him, especially after His hideous execution. But just like they, in their period of mourning….we can Believe…and must believe His Word WILL be fulfilled. Just as He arose..He IS coming again. Be watching! Be prepared. He will reign and rule His righteous kingdom and all things will be judged and made right! Hallelujah to the King of Kings. He IS alive!”


It’s a simple message, really, yet so difficult to grasp. Such vast love, unfathomable to the natural mind. And yet, today is His expression of His love for us. Unconditional, unending, never diminished.



#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, He is Risen, #LordofLords, #KingofKings, #Heisalive

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Originally posted in July of 2017, this post is so fitting for such a time as this… (See my post this past Friday, The Purge.)




2 July 2017

If you’ve been following the blog this past week, you’ve seen a part of me not easily revealed. Wednesday in particular I made myself very vulnerable and blogged about my greatest embarrassment—my house, and The Great Clean Up.


Monday as I was going through yet another of those myriad boxes (why? just why???) I came across a keeper, a prayer I wrote in the form of a letter fifteen years ago. I share that with you today.

(Though I no longer have the original letter and the digital image is hard to read, I give you this small bit)


I lost track of how many times I pleaded for Father to “show me, guide me, direct me.” I was trying so hard, making it more difficult than He ever intended it to be. What I didn’t realize at the time, He was guiding me, wooing me, leading out of the dark of depression and guilt and “works” that Paul talks about. I was asking—begging, pleading—for Him to do what He has and is doing. Rest, He says, rest.

Nowhere does He ever tell us to strive. Not to do His will, and certainly not to abide in Him. Rest, just rest.


As I’ve come to know Him—in the same way I get to know new friends—abiding in Him comes naturally, no striving, no dues to pay. It just is. Like a seed that produces its fruit or blossom, it’s what it does. I water it, prune it, give it the attention it needs, but I don’t strive to make it do what it is intended to do.

So it is with my relationship with God. And with that, my identity and purpose. Is it easy? Yes and no. In the face of all hell coming against me, yeah, there’s a struggle. But abiding in Him? Resting in Him? Nah, no struggle at all. Rather like a spiritual hammock on a mild spring evening, gentle breeze, birdsong above.

Rest in Him, my friend. Find your place in Him, in His heart, in the palm of His hand. Rest. And be.


#Blogwords, Book Launch Event, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Desire of My Heart, Throwback Prayer, The Great Clean Up, The Purge

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Slide6 - devotion

* This post delayed due to fatigue.



The name of Sunday’s feature, Front Porch Fellowship, came about… “Because sometimes you can’t make it to church. Or, what the world commonly thinks of as church.” And Father God meets me where I’m at, often on the Front Porch.


This Christian walk is often mistaken for a religion. But it’s not so much “religion” as it is relationship. The very reason Father God created man was for relationship. He gave us rules, sure, and with good reason. Adam and Eve walked in the “cool of the day,” and I believe they walked with God. I believe we were never meant to leave the Garden of Eden.

Then Satan entered the picture. And lied.

From the moment Adam and Eve disobeyed, everything Father has done has been to restore us to relationship. All the rules and commandments are there for this reason. And when we focus on God and our relationship with Him, our lives are fuller, richer.

AND, we are less influenced by the enemy.

It’s hard to do in this swirling, dazzling world. So many distractions. So many temptations. That’s why He bids us, “Be still.” Shut out the noise and the chaos, and listen for His voice.

Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth! (NKJV) Psalm 46:10

Like seeking the wisdom of a trusted friend or spouse or parent, He asks us to seek Him, not the wisdom of the world, which is riddled with conflicting and confusing—and deceiving—answers and direction.

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. (NKJV) Matthew 6:33

Father has created each of us with our own special gifts and talents and abilities. But also with desires and longings that only He can fulfill. I believe He has placed particular desires within each of, and when we look to Him—and only when we look to Him—will we truly know the fullness of those longings.

Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. (NKJV) Psalm 37:4

* All mention of God, other than specifically Father God, I am referencing the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.


“Meredith, you need to forgive God.”

“Do what?” I was enveloped by a super wide faux leather chair with extra cushions in Tina Vanderlyn’s den. It felt like I was sitting in a hug.

“Have you forgiven God?”


“You’re mad at Him, yes?”

“Well, yeah.” I squirmed and choked on the words. I was massively ashamed to be mad at God. Admitting it aloud was mortifying. “But…”

She lifted her ruby colored coffee mug and took a dainty sip but said nothing.

“He’s holy and perfect and…” I lifted my own ruby mug and gulped. Clutching the mug as if I could hide behind it I managed my voice. Sort of. “He does no wrong. How do you forgive someone who never makes a mistake?”

“That’s a good question.” She reached for my hands, her neatly manicured hands suggesting her age but giving nothing away. “What does it mean to forgive?”

“It means that even though someone did something that hurt you, you can’t hold it over their head.”

Her head tipped sideways. “And…”

I stumbled for words. “I don’t understand.”

“Who benefits from forgiveness?”

“Well, the person who did whatever it was that was wrong.” Duh.

“Are you sure?”

I knew how a deer in the headlights must feel.

“Meredith.” She released my hands and sat back, crossing her long legs at the ankle. “My father was not a nice man. He was dishonest in his business and was a tyrant at home. He never struck me but we all lived in fear.”

I listened, sad about her childhood so different than mine. But I didn’t get the connection to our discussion.

“He died when I was fourteen and I was glad. We all were. My mother caught my sister and me doing a happy dance after the funeral. She brought us all down to the den, my brothers and all three of my sisters to ask us these same questions.”

“She was upset that you were glad your father was gone?” I was so confused.

“No, Meredith. That she understood. She was relieved herself.” Mrs. Vanderlyn leaned forward in her chair, crossing her arms on her knees. “She explained the true meaning of forgiveness.”

I waited.

“Forgiveness is giving the offender over to God. Justice is His, and His alone. Judgment is His—not ours. Your definition of forgiveness suggests that you, we, have the power to judge and mete out justice. Mother asked us if we had forgiven Father. We all snickered because, like you, we thought it ridiculous. ‘Why forgive a dead man,’ my oldest sister asked. ‘It won’t help him.’

“Mother caressed her Bible in her lap. ‘Forgiveness doesn’t set the offender free, Darcy. It sets the wounded free.’”

My brain was spinning. Forgive God?  “But…” Mrs. V stood and took both our mugs over to the kitchen to refresh our coffee.

Forgive. Release. Let it go. Thoughts swirled in my mind. And Papa God’s voice—Be free. Forgive and be free.

Mrs. V returned with fresh coffee and I gladly received the warm mug—to hide behind. We ended our session with her walking me through the mechanics of forgiving… God. It still seemed inside out but at the same time made perfect sense. Of course it makes perfect sense, dumb butt. It’s God’s plan.

We ended our afternoon visiting and chatting like old friends. (I still wondered how old she was but would never ask.) And I left her house feeling freer than I had in three and a half years. I let go of the dream, the plan I thought my life needed to be. Picturing myself when I was little and my Etch-a-Sketch quit sketching. I let Daddy have it to fix it; of course, I didn’t realize at the time it was beyond fixing. So when he brought me a new one, my five-year-old self thought he was the most “amazingest” daddy ever; I just knew he had fixed my favorite toy.

Now, I visualized myself handing my grown-up favorite thing—getting pregnant and giving birth—into Daddy God’s hands. He could fix my broken toy. Or He could give me a new one.

But it was up to Him. Me, whining and begging and pleading—and ranting—was poisoning my own heart. That afternoon, I knew that I had all I needed or could ever want. Me and Jere had a passel of kids—we were so blessed. I didn’t need to get pregnant anymore. God held that dream; it wasn’t mine to hold onto.


#Blogwords, Book Launch Event, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, One for the Price of Two, Robin E. Mason, FourSquare

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The past months—summer months—have been a confoundng time for me. Weakness is part and parcel of the RA, but I began feeling a new level of malaise sometime in May. Doctor visits didn’t identify the culprit, not even my physical in July. Not until the telltale rash developed—I had Scabies! And lemme tell ya, that is a level of torment I’d not wish on anyone. (For the record, it is passed from an infected person; it is not from having or living in a filthy house, as was suggested to me.)

Once the correct diagnosis was made, and treatment administered, I began to feel better, and am now mostly back to how great I felt in April and early May. The upswing of this recovery is my writing, both the new book and the blog.


Today I give you a poem I wrote during one of my lowest points of depression—correction, a poem Holy Spirit wrote via the pen in my hand. Only the first line was from my desperate mind; the rest flowed through me like a refreshing spring of cool water on a hot day. A short time later, He also gave me the melody to go with it.



Oh, my sweet Jesus, I long for your presence

My heart is not whole, except you are there

Wash me anew with Your great Holy Spirit

And grant me the power Your goodness to share.

Heavenly Father, I need You with me,

Your strength and Your mercy my soul to sustain.

Let nothing dwell in me ‘twould bind me from You

By Your grace, Lord, perfect me that I might bear Your name.

Pour Your anointing into my spirit

Kindle Your love in my soul every day

To set me in motion, to reach out around me,

To witness Your grace and Your Word to proclaim.

Put wings to my words, Lord, let me serve You in ways

That others might see You and ask of Your plan.

Use my feet as Your feet, Lord, my hands as Your own

And manifest things that only You can.

Send me out to the world, God, Your flock to help gather.

Grant me words of wisdom to help the lost see

Your perfect salvation, Your will for us all.

Oh show the world, Jesus, Your light in me.


                                © Robin E. Mason

                                April 1989


#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Your Light in Me

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A lady I used to go to church with was vehement that single moms don’t deserve kudos on Father’s Day. Claimed it was tantamount to usurping the child’s father of his rights and privileges. While she had a valid point, it is not the only perspective. Case in point—my story.


My husband was involved precious little while we were married, even less after our divorce. To the point of oblivion. I usurped nothing from him, or his role as father. He abdicated, and I stepped into a role I neither wanted nor fit. One that took away from my heart-role as mother; juggling both roles was a challenge no person was meant to bear.


Today is to honor fathers. But not biological fathers only. Men—and women—who have stepped into that role in the life of a child. Who have filled a void in a child’s heart, lifted a child’s vision, self-esteem. Changed the life of a child, even if in some small way only.


Today I honor adoptive fathers, step-fathers, foster dads, granddads and uncles who stepped up to the plate, and honorary dads—those who, by whatever connection, never wore the title of father, but nurtured a child who needed a father’s attention. To the ones who take kids who are not their own to ball games and dance practice, to movies and skating rinks. Who teach manly skills like—and forgive the stereotyping—fishing and mowing the lawn and building tree houses. Who help with homework and mundane tasks, who teach manners and morals and courage. Who teach and encourage a child to honor and respect their mother, their teachers and scout leaders.


I bow to you, and I thank you for making our world a better place. One act of kindness, one piece of your heart, one child at a time.


Above all, I honor our God and Father of all. Who is there in times of distress and darkness, Who is with us even when we don’t acknowledge Him. Even when we turn and walk away from Him. Who is ever faithful, and waiting for us with open arms. Who holds us in the palm of His hand, and lavishes us with love so tender and Divine.


A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, Is God in His holy habitation. Psalm 68:5


Thank You, Father God, and all dads everywhere, for all you do.



#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Good Good Father

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            * REPOST—AUTHOR DOWN


Several years ago I was walking around a small lake. It’s a favorite spot, and I take the walk whenever I visit there.

This particular time I had been listening to a certain praise and worship CD, and one of the songs was playing in my head.

As those words sang in my mind, my eyes looked up at the trees—and I wondered (as all good authors do) “How does a tree worship God.”

I had thought it an idle thought. Until He answered me.

So simple and yet so profound.

And as all good writers also do, my mind took it another step.

Of course I knew the answer, even then.

And with an algebraic turn, or perhaps putting the pieces in a puzzle, that meant that I worship Father by writing.

So … as I was sitting outside, basking in a miracle moment today, and praising Father for this long awaited thing, I glanced at the trees.

And I was reminded of what He told me those years ago—to worship Him, I be what He created me to be.

*note the use of “be” vs “do.”

So, and pardon the license with grammar, but I be writing. I be working—and I be worshiping Him—as I write.

And that brings me even greater joy.


#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, All Creation Worships

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When I started writing my new story, I knew the main characters names were Elizabeth and Meredith. I did not know their last name was Elliott. Nor did I realize what I had done—I gave one sister the same name as Elisabeth Elliot, wife of missionary Jim Elliot.


Rather than change the name, I decided—felt led—to keep the name and work the elder Mrs. Elliot into the story.


All that to say that my Elizabeth Elliott, Bethy, is fascinated with the missionary wife, and has as a reminder one of Mrs. Elliot’s sayings taped to the mirror in her bedroom.


Do the next thing.


I say all that to say that besides my own story, that phrase, Do the next thing, has come up several times recently. And when that happens, I believe Father God is using it to get my attention.




After the death of her first husband, Mrs. Elliot returned to the missionary post they had shared in the jungles of Ecuador. Besides being a mom of a toddler and a widow, responsibilities swirled around her, most of which had been her husband’s duties. Unsure how to even begin, she recalled—or, Father brought to her remembrance—an old Saxon legend, Do the next thing.


From that (as I understand the article I’ve read) she penned her poem, Do the Next Thing.


When life overwhelms us, do we not tend to scramble to get ALL the things done? Do we even, as Christians, feel we are called upon TO do all the things? I know I did, for many years.


I blogged about that last year.




Short-n-sweet post, but to the point.


In considering what the next thing is, it occurs to me that we as humans tend to, perhaps feel the need to, see the whole plan, to know every step along the way. And in some instances, it is necessary. Building a house is one example.


But that is not His way—that is not faith. Not in the day to day, moment to moment. Because relationship doesn’t work that way.




A couple of quotes come to mind:



We don’t always see—or hear—or know God’s plan. And perhaps we don’t know the next step. But praise is always timely. He is always worthy. And betimes, praise is what carries us through to the next “instruction.”


When we abide in Him, and are in relationship with Him, we know He is with us. Just as we know our earthly family and friends are with us, even when we don’t talk to them every day, or for days or weeks at a time.


Sometimes the next thing is monumental. An earth shattering leap of faith. Stepping out of the boat.


But sometimes, dare I say most times, the next thing is a simple task. Dusting or sweeping, holding your child’s hand while you walk to the school bus or into the store. Ironing a dress or shirt. Sometimes, the next thing is to sit in His presence.


I know, I know. That’s not really doing anything.


Ah! But it is. Sitting in Father’s presence is what we were created for. There is no higher “thing” to do.


And it is in those moments of doing “nothing,” sitting—not idly, not at all—basking in Him, fellowshipping with Him, that His still small voice clears through the rubble of the world, and whispers The Next Thing.


#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Do the Next Thing, Elisabeth Eliot

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CONFESSION: The past week has been total upheaval. Well, okay, maybe not total upheaval. But the loss of a major appliance, especially the refrigerator, turned my world topsy-turvy for eight days.


And drained me. Thus, no devotion post last week.


The new fridge, Tallulah (yes, I named her) is in place, happily purring and keeping things wonderfully cold.


CONFESSION #2: I often write my Sunday posts on Saturday. YEEPS! And this week was no exception.


Well, it would have been no exception.


But then the topic leapt off the page—and surprised me with an early Mother’s Day dinner. A delightful surprise to be sure. But it ate up my day and zapped my energy.


So the post I was mentally planning to write got changed up on me.


Because of the very blessing I planned to write about. (technically, one of my three blessings)


So as I bask in my full belly and my overflowing heart, I give you a poignant poem from Steven James.

In a mother’s purse, in a mother’s purse,
You’ll find so many things!
A cell phone that used to work
But now no longer rings.
A shopping list of all the stuff
You were supposed to get last week.
A bottle filled with formula
That seems to have sprung a leak….
Band-aids, diapers, Cheerios,
Kleenex for a runny nose,
I think someone’s been using those…
Go on and take a peek!

In a mother’s purse, in a mother’s purse,
It’s amazing what you see!
A checkbook that hasn’t been balanced
Since the year two thousand three!
A schedule of little league baseball games,
To stay one step ahead.
A Slim-fast bar you thought about
But chose a Milky Way instead.
Crayons, a bib, some coins and cash,
Some lotion for the baby’s rash,
A flashlight that has lost its flash,
And some aspirin for your head!

In a mother’s purse, in a mother’s purse,
You’ll find a mother’s heart.
Down beside the car keys,
To the van that doesn’t start.
Somewhere near the pacifier,
Below the old receipts…
There, you’ll find a mother’s heart.
By crumpled homework sheets–
The tears, the dreams, the whispered prayers,
The scars, the screams, the sudden scares,
That every single mother bears,
And love, lived out, completes.



#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, The Blessing of Motherhood

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The scene brings Ebenezer Scrooge to mind. Lying in his bed, awakened from sleep by loud clattering noises. Shutters banging, the bed, even, hopping about as though it were a living creature.

Here the similarities in two stories ends. Poor Ebenezer trembles in fear, clinging to his bedclothes for dear life—as though a woven piece of cloth might hold off the specter standing before him.

Smith Wigglesworth, however, looked his guest—a very real manifestation of evil—in the eye and said, “Oh. It’s just you.” And laid his head back on his pillow. Without opening his eyes, he spoke again. “And put my bed back where it belongs.” He promptly went back to sleep, absolute in his authority over the baffled intruder.

Mr. Wigglesworth’s visitor was no fictional ghost, nor a minion or underling, even, of Satan. Mr. Wiggleworth’s visitor was the Prince of Darkness himself. Manifest in all his ugliness, vile and sulphurous, drawing on all his worthless power to scare this man of faith who had him trembling.

Because he knew. They both knew.


This story struck me to my core when I first read it years ago. Such faith. To look at Satan, manifest before his eyes, and not be shaken in the least.


Because Mr. Wigglesworth knew.


Satan. Could. Not. Touch. Him.


Not because of anything Smith did or was.


But because of who he was in Christ.


Smith Wigglesworth knew his identity. Just like Jesus knew, and knows His identity—and offers that to us as believers and followers.


Just as Jesus faced Pontius Pilate, just as He endured the horror of crucifixion. Just as He walked (strutted?) the streets of hell to take back what was stolen.


Just as Jesus knows who He is, so, too, can we know who we are.


“Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”  So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” Genesis 1:26-27


In His image. From the very beginning, we were made to be like Him.


All the struggling and striving and suffering is because we separate ourselves from Him. Because we don’t know who we truly are. Who we’re meant to be. Who He created us to be.


To live in that identity, to face every situation and circumstance with the same authority Jesus did, and does. Because in Him, our identity is the same as His identity. We were created for Him. For relationship and fellowship with Him.


How many times do we face a trial wondering if things are going to be okay? Wondering if He heard our prayer—or if He cares. Wondering, even, Father’s will? (His Word tells us, very clearly, what His will is.) When we are in relationship with Him, just as when we are in relationship with each other, we can and will—and should—know Father’s will. His plan, His purpose.


Think of it this way—God’s strength and might is a turbine engine. The kind that power the tremendous KC-10 aircraft. And living our lives without being plugged in to Him is like operating on the power of a small lawnmower engine.


We putter about our lives with that small motor, lacking the strength to live fully as He created us to do. We roll from one day to another, idling through life.


But what if we engage those grand turbine engines? What if we embrace the terrible power? What if we soar on the wings those engines raise? Might we face the enemy with the unwavering confidence Mr. Wigglesworth did?


Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego answered and said to the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver us from your hand, O king. But if not, let it be known to you, O king, that we do not serve your gods, nor will we worship the gold image which you have set up.” Daniel 3:16-18


Then King Nebuchadnezzar was astonished; and he rose in haste and spoke, saying to his counselors, “Did we not cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?”

They answered and said to the king, “True, O king.”

“Look!” he answered, “I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire; and they are not hurt, and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God.”

Then Nebuchadnezzar went near the mouth of the burning fiery furnace and spoke, saying, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego, servants of the Most High God, come out, and come here.” Then Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego came from the midst of the fire. And the satraps, administrators, governors, and the king’s counselors gathered together, and they saw these men on whose bodies the fire had no power; the hair of their head was not singed nor were their garments affected, and the smell of fire was not on them. Daniel 3:24-27



All the governors of the kingdom, the administrators and satraps, the counselors and advisors, have consulted together to establish a royal statute and to make a firm decree, that whoever petitions any god or man for thirty days, except you, O king, shall be cast into the den of lions…  Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went home. And in his upper room, with his windows open toward Jerusalem, he knelt down on his knees three times that day, and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as was his custom since early days…  So the king gave the command, and they brought Daniel and cast him into the den of lions. But the king spoke, saying to Daniel, “Your God, whom you serve continually, He will deliver you.”  Then a stone was brought and laid on the mouth of the den, and the king sealed it with his own signet ring and with the signets of his lords, that the purpose concerning Daniel might not be changed…  Then Daniel said to the king, “O king, live forever!  My God sent His angel and shut the lions’ mouths, so that they have not hurt me, because I was found innocent before Him; and also, O king, I have done no wrong before you.”  Daniel 6:7, 10, 16-17, & 21-22


These men of God had no fear because they knew Who their God was. They knew no man could take them out of God’s hand. But more than that, they knew God would prevail, His power and His glory would be made known.

Like Smith Wigglesworth, they faced the enemy with courage because they knew who they were, Who they belonged to.


What if we step into the power and realm where Jesus did? Does that mean nothing bad will happen?




What it means is that Christ shines through us when the evil of this world encroaches upon us. Upon our lives. Upon our loved ones, even.


Then the multitude rose up together against them; and the magistrates tore off their clothes and commanded them to be beaten with rods.  And when they had laid many stripes on them, they threw them into prison, commanding the jailer to keep them securely.  Having received such a charge, he put them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks.

But at midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.  Suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were loosed.  And the keeper of the prison, awaking from sleep and seeing the prison doors open, supposing the prisoners had fled, drew his sword and was about to kill himself.  But Paul called with a loud voice, saying, “Do yourself no harm, for we are all here.”

Then he called for a light, ran in, and fell down trembling before Paul and Silas.  And he brought them out and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”

So they said, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will be saved, you and your household.”

Then they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house.  And he took them the same hour of the night and washed their stripes. And immediately he and all his family were baptized. Now when he had brought them into his house, he set food before them; and he rejoiced, having believed in God with all his household.  Act 16:22-34


In the midst of whatever difficulties, whether light or catastrophic, God’s power takes over when we invite Him through praise.


…in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.  1 Thessalonians 5:18


Not for the difficulty, as I’ve heard questioned. But above the circumstance. Because we, in spirit, are above our circumstance. We are above this natural realm. We walk with Father in spirit.


Stray thoughts enter my mind sometimes. The natural reaction is worry and panic. And yes, I have fallen prey to it at times. But I have learned who I am. I have learned my spirit is my guide, NOT my emotions. And in that identity I speak the Word of God and vanquish those trespassing thoughts.


And I laugh at the one who would destroy my soul.


Because I can.

Because I know who I am.

His. I am His.



#Blogwords, Front Porch Fellowship, #FPF, Sunday Devotion, Identity and Authority, Genesis 1:26-27, Daniel 3:16-18, Daniel 16:7, 10, 16-17, & 21-22, Acts 16:22-34, 1 Thessalonians 5:18

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