Words of Praise

An Awareness of God

A quiet encounter with God and

an amazing sense of His Presence and

the way He reaches out to His Children.

An Awareness of God

An awareness of God
I'm beginning to see
The depth of His love
That reaches to me.

Though I am unworthy
Of His mercy and grace,
He looks upon me
As I seek His face.

He speaks softly to me
Then, to Him, I respond
And I know He is seeking
An everlasting bond.

The Creator of heaven
Of earth and of sea
Wants to be my Father
And spend time with me.

Nancy K. Sullivan
1989


Would you like to become a child of the Heavenly Father?

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From A Gold Ring To A Scarlet Cord

He was accustomed to seeing men come and go from his daughter’s home during the night. These two looked different. They were not shuffling and stumbling up the stairs like so many of her late-night callers. They were moving more like cats, darting in and out of the shadows and watching over their shoulders. Even their clothing seemed unfamiliar. He quietly stepped outside to get a closer look at the men near his daughter’s back door.

The people behind the massive walls of the city had grown indifferent in their immoral culture. But the old man had never been able to accept that his daughter was a major attraction to residents and visitors alike. She had been such a beautiful young girl with eyes that sparkled at the sound of his voice and a spirit that saw each morning as a new adventure waiting to unfold.

The decline of morals in their secluded community had changed all of them. Rahab’s beauty had been her downfall. She had been drawn in to a world of depravity and accepted her “status” in the ugliest part of town. A father who had once dreamed of grandchildren could only watch his little girl become hardened and aged beyond her years.

“A beautiful woman who rejects good sense is like a gold ring in a pig’s snout.” Proverbs 11:22 (Holman)

Sudden activity in the streets drew him back to the present. The King’s messengers were heading straight for Rahab’s house. He inched closer and craned his ear to the voices. “Spies? They must be Israelites!” The hearts of the Jericho residents had melted inside their chests at the news of the God of Israel. He had performed indescribable miracles at the Red Sea and had dealt with the two kings of the Amorites.

And now the king’s messengers were at his daughter’s house demanding that she turn the intruders over. But why did they insist on searching her house? Then he remembered the two suspicious callers. His heart sank. “What was Rahab thinking when she let those men in?”

He heaved a sigh of relief when the messengers rushed away from her house and toward the King’s palace. Moments later Rahab was at his door. “Papa, let me in quick,” she whispered.

“The Israelites are coming to destroy Jericho, and you want me to believe that they are going to spare us, the family of a prostitute? How can you place your faith in something so bizarre? A God you have never seen, never prayed to, never included in your idol worship is going to save you, your father and mother, even your brothers? Our best chance to survive this is to stay inside these walls. Armies have never been able to get through them. This isn’t water we’re talking about, Rahab. It’s solid rock. Not even the God of Israel can knock these walls down!”

Rahab ignored her father’s protests and hurried to explain their rescue: The two men would hide in the hills for three days, and then return to Jericho. She had hidden them from the king, and they promised to spare her and her family. They would see the scarlet chord hanging from her window and take them out of the city before they destroyed Jericho and everyone inside the walls. She had their word.

Somehow Rahab knew in her heart that the God of the Israelites would be her God, too. The gods of Jericho had been fashioned from gold and silver. Lifeless and powerless. She had heard of the God Who could not be fashioned by anyone’s hand. He had demonstrated unbelievable power protecting His beloved Israelites. She wanted to serve that God, regardless of the danger.

“They burned up the city and everything in it…but Joshua spared Rahab the prostitute, her father’s household, and all who belonged to her, because she hid the men Joshua had sent to spy on Jericho, and she lives in Israel to this day.” Joshua 6:24,25 (Holman)

* * * * *

Months later, the old man watched as Rahab embraced her daily chores. He marveled at how young his daughter looked. Her eyes had regained their sparkle, and she began each day with expectancy of wonderful things that would come their way. “I wonder if that smile has anything to do with the young man, Salmon, who has been visiting in our home. Maybe, someday, I’ll have those grandchildren after all.” (Matthew 1:5)

Do you long to know the God of the Israelites and His perfect plan of redemption through His Son, Jesus? Check the Sidebar for the link "I Want To Know Jesus."

Words of Praise

"The earth is the Lord's, and all it contains,
The world, and those who dwell in it,
For He has founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the rivers."
Psalm 24:1,2

A Heavenly Voice

The sight of the cell phone that sat silently on the small night stand brought tears to my eyes. That tiny phone had been a constant companion to Mom over the past several months. The lengths of her visits were always determined by her measure of strength for that day, but even the short, “Hello’s” were a bright spot in her small world. Mom’s cherry “How wonderful to hear from you!” surely added equal amounts of sunshine to the caller’s day.

Long days and nights of pain that had become increasingly difficult to manage were over. The peace that had filled her room when Mom quietly slipped into Heaven was now just a strange quietness and felt too empty for words. How I longed for just one more, “love you” to end our day.

Mom had been my confidant. She was such a good listener and had acquired so much wisdom for someone whose world was encompassed in just a tiny speck on the globe. Her brown eyes held soft responses to my news of the day – whether happy or discouraging. When Mom spoke, her words were well thought out and delivered gently, and her hands held mine with a strength that had developed through many years of hard work.

I forced myself to scan Mom’s room for the medical equipment that needed to be returned. And the clothing ministry would surely welcome the sharp ensembles she had enjoyed wearing before her waning health required a complete wardrobe change to soft gowns and slippers.

I made a mental note to pick up an appropriate box to hold the countless cards and well wishes that had accumulated. Mom re-read them often. It was then that I noticed a plain white envelope with my name in Mom’s handwriting. A soft sob stuck in my throat and my hand shook as I reached for what must have been her final word to me. Was it a personal note? Did it hold instructions that had not been included in finalizing her personal affairs?

Carefully, I slipped my finger under the flap of the envelope and unfolded the paper inside.

“My Dear Marcie,” it began. “I’m sorry to have left you with so many details and loose ends, but I have only one more request beyond what we have already covered.

“You know that my cell phone has been one of my best friends these past few months. Just the sound of a friend’s voice or of one of my grandchildren’s has brought so much joy.

“I’ve spend many hours wondering how I could leave something special behind that would somehow brighten the days of my loved ones long after I’m gone, and when the idea came to me, I could have jumped right out of this hospital bed!”

When I had finished reading her letter and cried once again at her final request, I completed the assignment. By the next morning, Mom’s wishes had been realized. The note she left behind came straight from her heart:

“To my amazing family and friends. Thank you so much for filling my days with words of love and encouragement. Your calls made my days sweeter than I can express. A terrific invention, the cell phone. Who knew a device so small could hold hearts to big?

“Very soon we will have face-to-face conversations as you join me in the presence of our Heavenly Father. Until that time comes, my last wish is to return the kindness of your phone calls with a message of my own. My cell phone number will continue to be available, along with my recorded message. At the end of that message, and ‘at the beep’ (smile), leave a good word for me. True, it will be a one-way conversation, but a response to an invitation given in love and gratitude for your faithfulness in my greatest time of need. God Bless.”

I slowly dialed the familiar number, then listened to Mom’s heavenly voice: “How wonderful to hear from you! How was your day? Remember, I love you and I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

Do you long for assurance that you, too, will see loved ones in Heaven?
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Faceless Acquaintances

Editors are uniquely introduced to writers through their shared passion for the written word. From the beginning, they enjoy a freeing experience that bypasses the normal first impressions of face-to-face encounters. Very quickly, this new relationship can develop into something very endearing or, in an outcome that may fall short of the writer’s search for validation, self-preserving.

In our micro wave society of the likes of e-mailing and texting, the electronic age has reduced our communication skills to abbreviated words and symbols. But when a writer pours his soul into a piece, whether an essay or a novel, the communication reaches depths that are quickly disappearing from most walks of life.

Instantly, the author shows his vulnerability, yet trust to a complete stranger. In turn, an editor who has faced the blue ink himself can show empathy toward the faceless acquaintance. Empathy that may not be found in any other encounter the writer has experienced.

This new relationship in many cases is a paradox: Deep, but short-lived. The results of this encounter can last a lifetime.

There is another unique relationship that is introduced through the written Word, a Word that also leads to a freeing experience that bypasses superficial encounters and focuses on the heart and soul. One searching for validation from the Editor of this Word will find unconditional love.

His ancient words can neither be taken lightly nor rushed through on a high-speed keyboard and are eternal. They are convicting, encouraging, and demanding of our time and respect. The very soul of the original Author is the standard. Each submission to this Author/Editor is measured by, and held accountable to, His Truth. Vulnerability is handled with agape love and blessed assurance.

This two-way communication and relationship is possible only through the shed blood of the Author and Editor’s Son, Jesus Christ. And, unlike the relationship previously mentioned, is eternal rather than short-lived.

In the soon and coming presence of this Acquaintance, we will surely experience unmeasured joy at our Face-to-face encounter with the Author and Finisher of our faith.

Do you want to see Jesus "Face-to-Face?" Check the Sidebar for the Link, "I Want To Know Jesus."

Words of Praise

In The Twinklin Of An Eye...

The days of loading film in darkened rooms, scrolling through to the first available frame, and making sure there were enough flashbulbs at the ready have faded along with some of our treasured photographs.

Even rolls of 36 exposures came up short at the most inopportune times. Precious shots of our children would have to exist only in our memories. Some of my film had been tucked away so long, the required technology for developing it had long since disappeared.

Now a plastic insert about the size of a flattened Chic-let stores a seemingly inexhaustible amount of photos. However, once those hundreds and hundreds of shots have been taken, the pictures are simply downloaded from the camera and uploaded to a PC, iPad, iPod, CD, DVD, or the local discount house for developing. Then that remarkable little Chic-let is ready for the next 750 - 1000 shots of the objects of our affection.

"Let me show you my grandchildren" could lead to a triple feature complete with sodas and pop corn. All a proud grandparent needs is a camera that can be cleverly concealed in his palm until the first opportunity to shanghai, er . . .share with another grandparent who could be equally armed with mini life stories.

Then there's Facebook, Myspace, and You Tube to name a few. I love signing into my personal space of choice and immediately seeing the daily shots of my youngest grandson in his new sandbox or sitting in a bubble bath with bubble beards and hats - and a smile that would light a small city. Videos of my oldest grandson marching in formation with his high school band on a beautiful fall afternoon can be recorded and shared via phone or computer in a matter of moments.

As fast as these images flash before our eyes, there is one more Face that will suddenly appear. A moment in time that will be captured world-wide in a nano second. No need to be armed with cameras or video equipment to snap this event.

Those who are in the eternal family album called the Book of Life will be gone before the rest of the world can blink. The unfortunate non-believers won't even see this most incredible moment in history. All they will have left of loved ones who disappeared without notice will be their photos and the reality that the faith of Christian relatives and friends was not misplaced after all.

Which family album will you choose? The one with your name inscribed in the Lamb's Book of Life for eternity, or a family album that is destined to be destroyed by fire?

Now the Good News: Check the sidebar for the link for "I Want To Know Jesus".

Sharing the Mystery

We search our minds for inspiration
For ways to color the simplest word
We dig deeper and deeper for a conflict
To insure our strongest passion is heard

We surround ourselves with God’s creation
And quietly listen to hear His voice
Our thoughts compete with every prayer
We constantly struggle against their noise

As murmurs hover in the silence
We try to cross lines in the sand
To a land of questions, then the answers
Yet frozen, still, with pen in hand

But when we turn to face the Master
He takes away the noise, the strife
His gentle Spirit draws us upward
And, once again, our words have life.

Each word we write, each phrase we seek
Should come from purity found within
That only lies in a broken heart
Where God’s love has replaced its sin.

His plan, His motives are our reason
To seek and use that quiet place
That lies so deeply carved within us
The one secured by the Father’s grace.

A heart of faith through which He speaks
Words of hope and eternity
The challenge is set, God’s standard is clear
We write to share His great mystery.
Nancy K. Sullivan
June 10, 2010

“These things have I written . . . that you may know that you have eternal life.” I John 5:13

The Mystery Revealed: Check the Sidebar for
the link to "I Want To Know Jesus"