Psalm 91:1 ” He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.”

When I think about “shadows,”  I instantly think of places that wallow in the dark.

Numerous Girl Scout outings can most likely be blamed for this crazy notion.
Silly stories were conjured up mostly consisting of ghosts, goblins and such.

Huddled close by the camp fire or burrowed deep in the corner of a dark tent, we each embellished our stories making them bigger than life itself.

I’m on the first step … I’m on the second step … I’m on the … “Boo!” You get the pattern!

As a child I found myself intrigued by these fabrications that would bring a stand of bristles to my neck and a scream that would challenge any true actress.   Looking back I have to laugh at the story lines that once had me frozen in my seat.

Yet as with anything, there are consequences.

Mine is the wild imagination I have been left with as an adult.
It often takes over, vividly portraying the worst case scenario around every corner, while conjuring up fearful images that might lurk about.
I am thankful as I have “grown up” in the Lord these images have “lessened” and “faith” has taken their place.

But today as I read, my mind is opened up to a whole new image of “being in the shadow.”

This is a place quite opposite of all the wild places my mind wants to take me.

For this is a place to abide,
a place of protection,
and a place without fear.

As my mind wraps itself around this visual picture, I imagine an eagle with its wings spread wide, sheltering everything beneath its span.

The word “dwell” jumps off the page and I begin to wonder about the full meaning of this word,
so of course I do what any techno savvy woman would do, I look it up on “Google.”

 Definition of the Word “Dwell” ~~
To remain for a time; To keep your attention directed ; To live as a resident; 

Do I “dwell” in the shelter of the Most High?

The definition itself answers my question.

Often I remain for a time.
My own distractions seem to take me out of the “abiding” mode.

I find myself placing my faith in my own abilities.
Tragically I fail each time in my own strength and find myself back at Jesus’ feet asking for forgiveness.

This leads me to the next definition.

“To keep your attention directed!”

As my Grandmother aged, I was intrigued by her walk with Jesus. 

So one day out of the blue, I asked.
“Grandma, at what age did it become easy for you to be consistent in reading your Bible each day?”

Now mind you, my Grandma Dorothy loved the Lord greatly.

I can see her now, sitting in her arm chair, reading her Bible.  This image is truly ingrained on my heart, as it was a daily occurrence for her.

I was certain she must have the secret to “enjoying” a disciplined Bible time with the Lord.

I was shocked at her answer!

            Without hesitation, she answered me quite directly.

            “Never!”

I sat baffled as I thought about all of the memories that included her much worn out Bible sitting on her aged lap, pages crinkled and bent with thousands of scribbles written in its margins.

           “Never?”
           “93 years old!   It’s never gotten easier?  Even at your age?”

            “No, but Lori, it has always been worth it!”

Grandma’s words have stuck with me.

I remember thinking as a young believer, that as I “matured” (said with a twinge of sarcasm), this journey must get easier.

But it is not easier. It is not a breeze.

I find I have to be intentional on every front.

God’s Word has become the map and guide that directs me towards living out my faith.

I read the remainder of the definition.

My heart smiles and shouts out a grand “alleluia!”  Now this part I can do!

“To live as a resident.”  Heaven comes to mind and God’s promises come to the forefront of my thoughts.

John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

My mind grapples with this new way of thinking.

To dwell, to remain, to live as a resident, free from fear, free from my own expectations.

I sit. Pondering this new imagery of the word, “shadow.”

I redirect my attention to remaining, to dwelling, to residing.

As I do, my Grandma Dorothy’s words are impressed upon my heart, settled firmly in my mind.

Knowing that for this moment I will choose to dwell until the day I will reside with Him forever.

Easy? No.

Worth it? Definitely!

 

Fear has a way of robbing us of our joy and holding hostage our “peace of mind”

This moment in my life helped me to clearly see how fear was doing just that!

It was back in 2010 when I had the great opportunity to visit Israel with my Pastor and Church Family. It became a “Defining Moment” for me as it not only changed my perspective, but it changed the way I live life.

“SNUBA” I don’t think so!      by Lori Clounie

“YOU CAN’T CONTROL THIS …. TRUST ME!”

Little did he know that just a week before, God had spoken these exact same words to me!

Taking in one last gulp of water, I frantically try to explain to Isaac why I am in such a panic.

Two days ago, my friend Karin had convinced me to face my fear and tackle “Snuba” Diving in the Red Sea. She had no idea what she was asking me to do. Just the thought of being 15-20 feet underwater while breathing through a bulky mouthpiece made my heart race.

“Snuba” not “Scuba,” she assured me. Tank above the water or below …. “Only logistics,” I thought.

Tackle my fears? I don’t think so.

But somehow I have found myself here.

Here, waiting on the shore of the most equisite, most beautiful coast of Elot, Israel, just miles away from Egypt.

Here, on the edge of conquering my fear.

Here I am, squeezed into a wet suit, with my belt fastened and my harness strapped on tight!  I’ve traded my sure footed feet in for a pair of fins.

What am I doing here?   Feet in a flurry, I begin treading water in the Red Sea with my air hose spiraling off my back and a small tank topside the water!  My eyes are fixed glued to this bulky little tank, making certain it is trailing closely behind me.  No room for error today!  So with my mask and regulator all secure, we begin diving down.

A pretty sight? Uh, No. But I figure I get points for determination, no matter how goofy I look!

The underwater signs are clear.

Thumb pointed up ~ Doing Great!

Thumb pointed down ~ Not Good!

A wavering hand, side to side — Negotiable!

Isaac looks at me with a question mark on his face as my thumb frantically points downward. He counters my actions with a “thumbs up,” knowing that nothing has changed to warrant my reaction.

Within seconds I shoot straight up, surfacing quicker than a mad dash on Black Friday through Walmart.

I began playing out scenarios in my mind, convincing myself that I needed more air, more time to consider this, more control.

My breathing became shallow as panic gripped me. As quickly as the last doubt has convinced me that I was suffocating and forever trapped beneath water, my feet kicked and screamed their way to fresh air.

Breaking through I yanked off my mouthpiece and sucked in every last ounce of air. Unfortunately, gallons of sea water accompanied each breath as wave after wave plummeted my face.

For many of you this may seem extreme.

But for someone who is claustrophobic, you are probably having to work yourself down at just the thought of this.

Isaac surfaces just behind me, questioning my reasons. When none validates my actions, he looks dead on into my eyes ….

“You can’t control this Lori, you have to trust me!”

Twice these words were uttered. Isaac reaches out his hand waiting for my decision.

{My mind begins to grapple at God’s own words that have recently pierced my heart.  

Not even a week has passed where I found myself in this same quandary, seeking control and finding none.  

Different scenario, same quandary!  

But this time instead of Isaac questioning my reasons, I stood before God Himself at the Wailing Wall.  

Struggling with this same choice.

Questions with no answers.

Faith without Trust.

“You can’t control this Lori, trust me”

The words were as audible to my heart as any words spoken from God,

Trust me.

…. A vivid mental picture comes quickly to mind as I recall stretching my fingers apart, prying lose my once clenched grip and allowing my fears and hopes to fall effortlessly into God’s caring hands.

“Out of my hands and into yours, Lord.”   My heart had agreed to trust, to believe.

And yet here I am again God. Trying to trust.

Releasing my fears into your hands once more.}

A wave splashes me and brings me back to the moment in front of me.

I hold out my hand … Isaac takes it and leads me into the deeper waters. I am amazed at the beauty I see, the beauty I would have missed, had I not trusted.

He was right. I could not control this … but I could choose.

Choose to follow. Choose to trust.

Phil. 4:6-7 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication (pleading), with thanksgiving let your request be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, shall guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus!

As I read this passage I begin to wonder. What are my “nothings?”

Family? Protection? Provision? …. Did I mention family?

If it is true that the “Love of Money” is the root of all Evil ….. then is it safe to say that the “Fear of Loss” is the root of all Anxiety?

I find as “fear” grips my heart, it doesn’t seem to matter the size of the loss. Fear is fear. Whether it is something as simple as air while Snuba Diving or something more valued like family, friends or protection. It seems, there is always a fear of loss when it comes to anxiety.

Panic sets in, fear overwhelms me and the peace I desire is gone. It is then that this verse confronts me.

Think of the things that keep you up at night. The next time you are worried, look at the root of your worry, your fear.

I was amazed as I did this.

Every fear, every anxiety came with the same result!

If my “fears” played out as I imagined them, there would be loss!

So trusting is placing your “nothing,” your potential “loss” in the hands of God.

Trusting that indeed He will lead you. Lead you into deeper waters. Waters that offer the beauty of peace and joy in the midst of doubt.

His hand is reached out ….The choice is whether I will reach out and take it.

“You can’t control this, I hear God say.” “You have to trust me!”

Be anxious for ” ______________!”

So what is YOUR nothing?

I encourage you to give your “Nothings” to Jesus. Remember, God always catches what we release!

Together we can know God’s peace as we trust Him to hold all that we give Him.

I carefully reach out, trying not to overstep my balance. Though skilled at many things, a step-ladder and I do not mix well.

Give me 7 or 8 steps up this wondrous invention and you will find me frozen like a character out of a scene from a scary movie. Not willing to take the courage needed to go up the next 5 steps required to reach the top of our 12 ft. Christmas tree, I find myself in a dilemma.

It had seemed like such a great idea when ordering this amazing tree!

I could see it holding the thousands of ornaments that lay waiting to be unwrapped. Okay, well maybe not thousands, but definitely a freakish amount of bulbs and ornaments collected throughout the years. Year after year, the green branches get overloaded and the tree seems to get lost in the decorations.

But not this year!

I stand motionless.

While choosing whether to go up or down, the idea now seems a bit crazy, being that most years I am the one who decorates the top of the tree. I guess I should have thought of that before leaping ahead with such ambition.

I “gracefully” remove myself from this quandary and hand over the bragging rights to my son. Without effort he manages to scale the tree without incident. Our tree is almost complete.

The lights glimmer as I spread handfuls of faux snow across its branches. Tree limbs and branches find themselves loaded with the stories of our life, collectively spanning the years that bring us to this exact moment. They all seemingly come together and “tug” on my heart as I recall each one.

I am always amazed at the light that fills our room each Christmas. The tree glistens and the glow coming from the corner of the room seems to illuminate the entire area. A warmth flows over me and I find myself feeling content.

Late at night after closing down the house, I find myself reflecting on the blessings God has bestowed on us this year. A calm spirit of gratefulness overcomes me and leads me into a private sort of worship. The house remains quiet and still.

I begin recounting the blessings and fortune of family and friends I have been given, the blessing of knowing God, of knowing His grace and mercy.
I begin to think of those who are lost, alone.

My heart becomes heavy as I think of those without God.

It is amazing to me how light penetrates the darkness.
It cuts through and divides.

To those in the darkness it offers hope and direction. God’s Word comes to life and I am reminded that He calls us to be the light in the darkness.

Matthew 5:14-16

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on a stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

I begin to examine my own heart, my own life.

“Do others see the hope of Jesus in me?”

“Does my life shine into the darkness and shout, “Jesus is why I have joy!?”

“Does the person who I proclaim to be and who I truly am match up and lead others to God?“

Each year these same questions seem to resonate with me as I click off the lights. Night after night, my thoughts are provoked. Uncannily, just as quickly as this celebration of Christmas is ushered in, it seems to be escorted out.

Funny, for as excited as I was to put up our tree, I find myself dreading the process of taking it down. Stepping down from the ladder, I hold the last ornament clenched tightly in my hand, watching carefully as I try not to lose my balance.

The joy and excitement of placing them on the tree was now replaced with the monumental task of removing them.

Piles of ornaments line the table. Once again it is time to put away these small treasures that have defined my life in one way or another. Ornaments from each vacation, cut out “Santa’s” made from my children’s hands, collections of school day art projects, along with clay gingerbread men lay ready to be wrapped and stored for another year.

The ornaments that glisten are gone.
The snow is swept away.
The light stands alone.

The journey of life is much like this process.

We build our lives adding memories, stories and excitement, sprinkling it with special moments that glitter, hoping that as we do we will sparkle and shine. Often we add ministry and good intentions, offerings and often sacrifice.

But just as my Christmas tree is stripped away, so too will all the add-on’s in my own life. Though they are good, and of worthy cause, when they are all removed, what will be left?

The light that stands beneath is strong enough to stand on its own.
It shines brightly.
It offers hope.

The light that lives within me is Jesus, the Christ. My redeemer.

It is His hope that illuminates my soul and that brings forth joy.
Without His love, His gift of forgiveness, I would be without hope, without light.

As my tree goes dark, I am left alone with my thoughts …
“Is my light an annual display that turns on and off with the season or is it something that shines everyday, leading the hopeless to hope?”

If Jesus is the true “reason for the season” then together let us continue to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ, not only as we celebrate His birth, but also His life, death and resurrection.

I want my life to shout “Jesus is my hope!”

My purpose is clear.

I have been saved by the mighty hand of God not because I am worthy,
but because He was willing!
Salvation belongs to those who ask and believe.

Are you without hope?
Know that God loves you.
And if you just ask, you too can be a person with hope!

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have everlasting life!

The lessons we learn in life are reflective of the experiences we have gone through. I can remember thinking how wise my grandmothers were as they gave insight to situations that I found difficult. Both of my grandmothers have now gone on to be with their Lord, but what I realize is that each experience, each choice, each lesson molds and changes us to to have greater understanding. As we face the next “big” moment, hope is found in knowing that God not only is faithful, but is also constant as He walks us through the ups and downs of life.

I would like to share one such moment with you along my journey.
We were blessed to go to Israel in March of 2010 with our Pastor and church family.
I knew walking in the steps of Jesus would be amazing, but the transformation within myself, I did not expect.

“Hands Wide Open”
By Lori Clounie

“Control.”

My mind wants to believe that if I try hard enough, I am in control, yet once again life seems to slap me back into reality. I am reminded that this illusion I have created is only a misconception.

My bubble is popped and I am left with this truth.

Control belongs to the creator, not the created. Choice on the other hand is ours to choose.

Is it not our’s to decide if we embrace or ignore the circumstance or situation before us? Choice can involve a negative or positive reaction and has the power to change not only our perspective but also those who may be under our influence.

I have always chosen to cling, that is until God pried back my fingers and unleashed my heart, freeing me to experience this whole new viewpoint.

Today I find myself standing in front of the Wailing Wall.
A unique place indeed, yet its purpose is what draws people from every nation to visit it daily. Designed Jewish by intent; yet played out universal by desire.

Can you imagine scribbling out your deepest thoughts? Your prayers condensed, folded and twisted into a one-inch piece of paper? Your hopes left desolate, waiting in walls of stone, only to be pushed out by the next earnest visitor?

Still day after day, men and women of every nation faithfully go forward inserting their dreams, hopes and desires between the crevices of this brick structure, praying for answers from their God, Jehovah.

Today I am one of them.

My reason for being here is for the sake of tradition and intrigue, along with the minor fact that our “Holy Land” Tour Guide has brought us here. Unlike some, my belief is wasted on the spiritual purpose derived by so many at this destination, for my faith is found in a most sovereign God, who hears from our hearts not from the wall of a city.

We begin to walk and the men separate from the women, each of our heads covered in respect. Visions of prayerful men bobbing and chanting stand just beyond the wall dividing us. I begin visually taking in this ancient Jewish ritual. Prayers and whispers fill the corridor, yet amazingly, I am not affected.

For just a moment, my mind stands still and words escape me.

I walk forward. Prayers from home are tucked closely at my side. Respectfully, I go though this act of protocol. Faces intent on the wall surround me as mumblings consume this place. Still, my heart feels empty.

Anxious thoughts move in and seem to overtake me.

Just days before our trip, I found myself faced with an awful dilemma. Work related pressures have attempted to consume me. I have pretended with smiles and disguise my anguish covering it with friendly conversation within the group. Determined to allude myself, I push them out of my mind. Once again in this moment, they have returned. Like dew on the early morning grass, they attempt to lay claim to my faith.

Pulling me. Tugging.

My heart is heavy. My hands gripped, while my mind proclaims, “I need control!”

Truth presides and I am keenly aware, God is here. My heart cries out. Words are amiss and I am frozen as if I have never prayed before. Carefully I tuck my friend’s prayers into the slits.

I watch as hundreds have fallen out onto the ground, one person’s prayers pushed out by another.
Tears begin rolling down my face. “My life feels this way God.“

“My life is falling and crashing to the ground just as these prayers have fallen.“
I am overwhelmed and begin to draw closer to the wall.
I press my face firmly into the bricks and lift my hands, extending them over my head.

I begin widening, stretching my grip, extending my fingers as far as I can.

God floods my heart with prayers from the soul. The spirit speaks on my behalf knowing my thoughts, my fears.
“Out of my hands God and into Yours.”

I cry out and release my anxiety.
My face is drenched with tears of sorrow bathed in gratitude.
Not only are my hands wide open, but now also my heart.

My fears, my dreams, the anxiety of financial burden, our children, families, parents and my husband
….one by one each falls through this visual release and into His hands.

I am still.

God came not because of the place in which I stand, but because my heart kneels humbly before His.
Respectfully in tradition, I walk backwards noting this choice I have made.

My hands remain spread open, reminding me that it is just the beginning of this commitment.

“Out of my hands, into Yours.”

In this very moment my heart has been changed forever. God performed miracles not only tangibly but also within me. Weeks later, the challenges I faced were resolved by God’s provision, covering our needs as only He could.

What I did not realize was how quickly I would find myself on my knees, being drawn once again back to this place of release over and over again.
Today my mother Elaine is facing Stage 4 cancer. Today, just six months after my surrender of all that I hold dear, I am faced with a choice.

My hands begin to close tight, my knuckles ache and I know it is time to come again to the “wall” in my heart and and choose to let go. “Out of my hands, into Yours.”

God always catches what we release.

I find as Christians, that as we pray and release our biggest fears into His grasp, our expectation and hope is that God will spare us this pain because we belong to Him, but often He does not.

So, releasing is trusting.
Trusting that God has my heart in mind, as He knows me best.
Trusting He is sovereign, able. But trusting is more than these things.

Trusting believes through a broken heart that there is more. Much more.

My mother died just five months after her diagnosis. Heart broken I walk beside my Savior. In reflection I realize that I too lay safely in His hands, not fallen to the ground disregarded, but held.

Hands wide open Lord.
Forever changed. Forever Held.

There are moments in our life that define who we are, what we believe and how we view ourselves in situations demanding faith.  My mother was diagnosed with cancer several years back.  Walking through this process revealed my own character to me in ways I can not explain.  But moreover, God revealed His beyond my wildest expectations.

This is only one example of the countless times God has proven faithful in my journey.   Taking my mother home to be with Himself  was to be the ultimate triumph,  …. but that’s another story.

“Poker Face Faith”         By Lori Clounie

Driving into the early morning darkness my headlights pierce the vast span before me.  The sky feels black as coal. Tears begin to fall and sorrow wells up within me.  These weekly trips to the hospital continue to take their toil on my heart. Hope builds as each dose of chemo is received; yet fear settles in with every day that catapults’ us further into my mother’s illness.  Music plays mindlessly in the background as my attention is focused elsewhere today, for I am intent on speaking with God.  Feelings come rushing up from my core that words cannot express.   As I deliberate I find my thoughts transparent, fashioning my words into the perfect plea.  Just as a lawyer prepares to deliver his case, I must state mine.

Months of apprehension overflow as I begin crying out to God!  “You are the great healer.   You are able.   You are God!”

In a desperate attempt I proclaim God’s promises back to Him.  “You say if we have faith we can move mountains?”  Boldly I declare,  “I believe! I have faith!”

Imploring for any response, I begin petitioning for His compassion, His favor while negotiating my mother’s healing.  My words seem basic but cut to the center of my intent, “God Please! Please, I beg you, heal my mother from this cancer!”  My heart echoes this dialogue with a resounding “Amen.”

Depleted of all energy I am silent.  The words on the radio begin to resonate with me.  A familiar song drives home the point where my futile attempts have seemingly failed.  The lyrics break through and over and over again I hear the words, “Light, Light, Light up the Sky to tell me you are with me!” Smiling I sustain, “That’s it exactly!”  As if a dare, I proclaim the depth of my faith, “GOD. I BELIEVE THAT YOU CAN LIGHT UP THE SKY RIGHT NOW IF YOU CHOOSE TO! I KNOW YOU CAN!”

I am astonished!  What I see before me is absolutely breathtaking.

My heart leaps out of my chest as shock covers me for a split second.  Illuminating His canvas, God boldly declares, “I AM ABLE!”   A bold lavish display of bright pink is plastered across the sky with its stark contrast spanning the heavens for as far as my eyes can see.   Praises spring forth without hesitation and in this moment all glory belongs to God.   Proclamations continue pouring out from my mouth even as rationalization pushes out faith and doubt slowly creeps in.   Such a miracle almost seems beyond my comprehension.   Just as quickly as I received it, I dismiss what I have just witnessed as the early morning sunrise.

Disbelief settles upon me and Satan attempts to steal the glory I once graciously lifted up to my Lord.   Abruptly the sky turns black. God has called my bluff!

Now encompassed by darkness, shame covers me.   For in all my ranting’s of faith I have failed pathetically even with such a gift of grandeur presented on my behalf. Aware I am a fraud, I turn off the radio and drive in silence.   Morning breaks much later and I reflect in awe.   My worship is lifted to a higher elevation than I have ever experienced, as I am keenly aware of God’s presence.

God has handed me a miracle and I have clung to disbelief.   Yet still His grace abounds for me and draws me closer to Himself bringing my faith that much closer to that of a mustard seed, confident that my God is faithful to do all that He is able, leaving the possibilities limitless.

Matthew 17:20 And He said to them, “Because of the littleness of your faith; for truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you.”  {NASB}

Sharing our faith in Jesus can be one of the most fulfilling moments ever.  But if you’re like me sometimes you let your insecurities, pride or lack of knowledge get in the way of those opportunities.  What I have come to realize after many “botched up” attempts is that Jesus is the one who does the calling, not us.  We are only the voice that He uses.  I was reminded of this truth many years ago on one of my annual shopping visits to Chicago.  This true story truly changed my perspective, I hope it inspires yours.

Yellow Checkered Revival  ~  By Lori Clounie

Closing my eyes I take a deep breath as the crisp rigid air fills my lungs. The wind cuts slicing like a sword, precise, consuming, yet swift. I bundle up with confidence that today will be like many other Chicago winter days, blustery and cold. My suspicion is confirmed.

Today seems especially bitter.

The wind and snow barrel around us. Walking briskly my friends and I huddle tightly. Burrowing in I hope to forge a wall against these frigid temperatures which seem to be splashing pink splotches across my cheeks. Freezing, I decide to hail a cab. After all, four ladies on a mission to take Chicago need to have their wits about them without taking time to thaw.

Before I know it, a warm toasty cab has pulled up along the curb begging our company.

Opportunities come in our life on different levels. I love engaging people with the message of Jesus, especially cab drivers. It helps knowing that for those few moments you hold a captive audience. “Where are you from?’ “How long have you been driving?” You know, the typical non-invasive questions that help you to find common ground. It’s then that Jesus begins to make His subtle entry into our conversation.

And my personal favorite, “Are you a person of faith?” I find that most people love to tell me about their own belief, which in turn lays a foundation for me to tell them about mine, hence enters Jesus! It’s amazing how six simple words can often open up a dialogue that only God knows the outcome.

Katie spots the determined look in my eye and laughs. Knowing my heart she braces herself as yet another stranger falls subject to my interrogation, finding him in good company with those ranging from sales clerks to waitresses. She was preparing for what came next or so she thought.

Stepping into the cab I do something I never do. I am silent. My heart begins prodding me to begin a conversation, I resist. Within moments we are here at our destination, the driver is paid and we pile out. The opportunity is gone in a flash. I feel my heart sinking and my shame growing.

Conversations continue in stride as we venture on, but inwardly I am quiet. Humbled, I cannot face God. I had wasted this opportunity that He had given me. I replay the events and know that pride is at the root. Fear of being thought so predictable has kept me from responding to God’s prompting. Tucking this away I purpose that I will not remain silent for the sake of my own pride. Long ago God had called my heart to share His message, next time I will prove faithful.

Our trip is becoming but a faint memory as laughter rumbles, friendships are strengthened and purchases are packed away for our journey home. Four amazing days of deals, steals and finds are packed, shoved and folded as we headed towards the concierge. Wide-eyed, he looks for a vehicle large enough to transport this tired group to our destination, the train station.

With precision he hails a cab then strategically files each piece of luggage and bag until the trunk can hold no more. I pile in the front seat, leaving my three cohorts crammed in the back to immerse in rapid chatter.

Looking overwhelmed as four women invade his space, I begin a light dialogue. He declines to engage. I sense God tugging at my heart… “Opportunity is a gift.” Failing once already, I choose to be faithful in this moment, what God does with my attempts are up to Him.
Expectation is a funny thing. We pray hoping great things from the Lord. Yet we stand amazed that He not only fulfills our expectations but also more often exceeds them!

God delivers.

Intentionally, I begin my approach throwing out any small talk I think he may find interesting. Instantly the driver burst into laughter. I explain to this young black man that I have friends in his country of origin, Ghana, Africa. Apparently he finds this amusing. I can see his mind processing this seemingly exaggeration as he dare venture to believe that this middle aged white chick could actually have “real” friends in Ghana. I engage him in his disbelief.

Convincing him will be difficult. I offer up the only evidence I have, my friend’s name, Walter Pinpong. Walter serves as the Director for International Needs, Ghana. I love listening to Walter’s stories of his compassion, vision and hope for his homeland. We are beyond acquaintances’ with Walter we are family, brothers in Christ.

Elated he shouts, “You know Walter Pinpong?” Disbelief nearly holds me captive as I struggle to grasp what comes out of his mouth next. “He is from my tribal village in Ghana!” My mind becomes a blur. My pulse elevates and my heart stirs up emotions within the deepest part of my soul, down to the depths of knowing God in His fullness.

“You have brought this divine moment to me God. To me!!!

Bursting I say, “Yes! He is my friend.”

God has broken down the walls of indifference, color, position and culture. He immediately replaces it with a bridge of respect, belief and brotherhood. My new friend embraces my inquest into his life and smiles at what is transpiring between us.

“Walter believes in Jesus as His Savior.” “Do you believe in the same Jesus as Walter does?” “Yes, “ he proclaims! “Yes, I do believe in Jesus!”

Within moments we have arrived at the train station. We jump out, circle around the front and embrace one another in the love of Christ! Only God could orchestrate such grandeur! Only God. I had given him a piece of his homeland that he loves; he has given me so much more. My purpose is defined. God has assured all that I know to be true.

Sharing His love and salvation is like breathing for me, it is not a luxury it is a necessity. It is up to those who hear to believe or not believe. I am grateful that my God would be mindful of me, granting me such an insight into his sovereignty.

I look around to grab my bags and find my friends embellished in tears. They too have witnessed God’s amazing love and are changed as a result of it.