“A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench…” (Isaiah 42:3)
I purchased a three dollar potted amaryllis bulb a few weeks before Christmas. It wasn’t much to look at; just a brown mound protruding from the dirt with a sprig of green growth barely pushing through. I didn’t have high hopes for it, but it was only $3 after all.
I followed the instructions which consisted of putting it in a window, and keeping it moist. Simple enough.
To my surprise, within just a few days, that little sprig began reaching for the sky. It towered well over two feet within the week. The really exciting part began next as it produced a beautiful bud, all full of hope. It was thriving, and I was a proud plant mom.
When it began to unfold in all its glory, I couldn’t contain my joy. I began snapping photos, and sending them to my friends, proudly showing off my little $3 wonder child.
That’s when the tragedy happened. Looking back, I know I should have been more attentive. I should have noticed the disaster coming. Its gorgeous blooms were so heavy that it had become top heavy. Even though I saw it leaning a bit, it didn’t occur to me that I should add a stake for stability.
I walked past it into another room for only a few minutes, and when I came back in, its stalk had broken in half. I was shocked to say the least, to the point of almost being sick. My little $3 bulb that had grown and matured into this lovely masterpiece had been decapitated, and cut down in the prime of her glory.
I had invested too much into this Amaryllis to simply allow its full potential to be forfeited. As I looked closer, I realized there were a few fibers of stalk connecting the blooms to the life-giving base of the plant. It was literally hanging on by a thread (or two). Would that be enough to sustain it? I didn’t know, but I had to try.
Having nothing further to lose, I grasped the top part of the stalk just under the blooms, pushed it down into the gaping wound of the bottom section of stalk and quickly wrapped the two pieces together with an ancient embroidered doily. It was the only thing I could find at the moment. (Sometimes it’s the old things that work best.)
Then I prayed, and held my breath…
Almost a week later, and she’s still blooming her little heart out! But that’s not the end of her story. She’s not just a $3 bulb anymore. She’s my miracle child, and she will bloom and bring joy for many years to come.
IN SUMMARY
If God cares about my $3 Amaryllis, He certainly cares for you. Like the Good Samaritan in the Bible, He will not cast you aside when you are broken or bruised. He will bind up your wounds, and saturate you with the healing oil of His Spirit. He will rebuild, refocus, revitalize and revive you, even If you’re hanging on by a thread (or two).
I’m thinking about biblical archaeology this morning. I love reading about bible sites and objects being found and excavated. The truth of the stories in the bible is all around us. Literally buried layer upon layer. The problem is that our memories and lifespans are too short to connect the dots and dates. At least not without interest and effort.
Another problem is that we think it’s all about us, not taking into account that every generation before us thought the same thing. We build and plan, focusing only on us and ours, believing somehow we’ll be the generation that beats the odds, and lives forever. Psalm 49:11 speaks to this point:
”Their inward thought is that their houses shall continue forever, and their dwelling places to all generations; they call their lands after their own names.” (Psalm 49:11)
We live on a farm with many acres of land. On the backside of the farm, there is bottom land with two raised mounds of earth. These are Indian mounds where generations of Native Americans lived their daily lives. Many arrow heads have been unearthed as a result of breaking up the ground in preparation for spring planting.
We act surprised every time we find a piece of their history like we have forgotten they existed. Or like they lived millions of years ago in a different reality. When, in fact, it’s only been a few generations since the land we call ours was sustaining them and their families.
Bible lands, the Promised Land, Israel is no different. It’s all there. Every Bible character. Every story. Every battle. Every weapon forged. Every scrap of cloth. Every drop of blood spilled. Every grave or tomb. Every brick oven. Every well or cistern. Every altar. It’s all still there under the layers of each generation’s passing. A silent testimony of the Truth of God’s Word.
I love biblical archaeology, but I’ll probably never have the opportunity to take part in an actual archaeological dig. It’s a good thing that digging into the Word of God, mining out nuggets of history and truth is even more trustworthy than shards of pottery and dead men’s bones. It’s the Living Word, and it’s not just history. It’s our story too.
Who or what do you believe in? I mean truly believe in? The world has many belief systems. Believing in self is a popular one. We’re told over and over that if we simply believe in ourselves, anything is possible. Never mind checking to see how God feels about it. Just put your mind to it, believe in yourself, and go for it.
Many people raise their children to believe in mythical figures like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy or the BIG one, Santa Claus. It breaks my heart. You might ask with shock, So your kids never believed in Santa??? Nope. It’s a lie, and I chose to teach them to believe God’s Word.
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.“ (James 1:17)
So, back to my question. Who or what do you believe in? I’ve been reading about Abram. Before he became Abraham, he was called by God to leave his family and home on nothing but a promise.
“Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will shew thee: And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed.” (Genesis 12:1-3)
How did Abram respond? Genesis 12:4 gives us the answer. “So Abram departed…”
This is how we know he believed God. He responded with action.
When Abram questioned God concerning how the promise would come to pass because, as of yet, he had no children, God reassured him once again that his descendants would be as the stars in the heavens if they could be numbered. I love what is recorded about Abram after this.
”And he believed in the Lord; and he counted it to him for righteousness.” (Genesis 15:6)
We know that both God and Abram followed through with action because there is a NATION of Israel today.
So, once again back to my question.Who or what do you believe in? I hope your belief system is founded on God’s Word. Many say they believe, but put no action behind their so-called belief.
If a person is a believer in God’s Word, there will be signs. Those signs will most definitely include more than words only. The old saying is “Talk is cheap,” and this is true. It’s easy to wear the t-shirt or sport the What Would Jesus Do bumper sticker. But the truth is revealed by our actions.
If we truly believe in God’s Word, we’ll make life changes accordingly. People will see and feel a distinct difference. Our actions will undoubtedly speak louder than our words.
SELF ANALYSIS
Let’s take a deep and honest look into ourselves. Is God calling us to do make a course correction in our lives? Are we saying we’re a believer, but refusing to obey? What are we holding out on God? Abram followed through, and because of this, he was called righteous, is known as the Father of the faithful and is listed in the Hebrews 11 Hall of Faith.
By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went. By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise: For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” (Hebrews 11:8-10)
Are you a Believer? Be a Believer like Abram. (Abraham)
Back in the last century when I was a freshman in high school, I was on a class trip out of state. We had just finished our meal at a fast food restaurant. Dropping our trash in the receptacles, I was approached by a homeless man. He said he was hungry, and asked for food.
I wish I could say that compassion flooded my soul, and I allowed Jesus to minister to this man through me. Sadly, the opposite is true. It was the first time I had ever been confronted by the raw needs of humanity. I didn’t know how to respond. I was shocked to be approached so directly. I was shocked that someone expected me to do something about their situation.
Surrounded by my peer group, I was concerned with what they might think. What would they do if he had approached them? And what if he was faking his plight? Maybe this was his way to get out of actually working…Why did I care so much what everyone thought? More importantly, how did I become so jaded at fifteen?
While I was trying to decide the acceptable protocol, another young lady in our group didn’t hesitate. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a few bills and change she had left from her purchase, and placed it in his outstretched hand.
“Enjoy your meal, Sir,” she said with confidence and compassion in her voice.
Immediately, I felt a spectrum of emotions. Embarrassment and humiliation were at the forefront. While I was trying to decide what to do, my own peer stepped in and did what needed to be done. It was a hard lesson learned that day. The most important being the need for compassion. I’ve carried the memory of that one hungry man for over four decades. It has helped me navigate through many interactions with the hurts of humanity.
Fast forward forty plus years…
I was sitting in a restaurant miles away from home with my peer group of ministry friends. We were talking, laughing and generally enjoying a sense of belonging. As we walked to our table, I had noticed out of my peripheral vision, a man sitting alone. No one ever came to sit with him.
When our food arrived, we clued in to why the sandwiches we ordered were called “freighters.” Each one was cut in half, and both halves took up almost the whole plate, leaving only a small spot for fries. We laughed and ate together, distracted from the man sitting alone by our food and fellowship.
After several minutes of good food and playful banter, I noticed the man walk to the counter to pay. He was carrying a backpack. Not paying a lot of attention, I thought I heard the cashier say, “You’re okay.” After which, he left the restaurant. A few seconds later, I shared glances with the friend sitting closest to me who also had a clear view of the counter area. She said, “I wonder if he had anything to eat.” She had heard the man tell the cashier he didn’t have the money to pay for the coffee.
I think both of us felt like we had missed a moment to help someone in need, and now the man was gone. I focused my attention back to the “freighter” on my plate. It just got bigger on my plate, and dryer in my mouth the more I chewed. My mind refused to unfocus from the man carrying the backpack. What if he was hungry? I remembered the hungry man in the fast food restaurant over forty years earlier. That feeling of embarrassment and humiliation was back, but another emotion was stronger. Compassion. What if he was still outside the restaurant, and hungry?
I couldn’t chew another bite until I found out. I got up from the table and headed to the front door. Stepping outside into the sunlight, I saw him. He was sitting on a bench just outside with his backpack beside him.
“Are you hungry?” I asked. He replied with a simple, “Yes.”
I told him to stay right there, and I would be back. Stepping back inside the restaurant, I asked for a to go box. I put the untouched half of my freighter in which took up half the box. Even more food was added when everyone realized my mission.
When I took it out to him, it felt really good to be able to look him in the eyes and say, “Enjoy your meal.” My half of the freighter also tasted good again, and I no longer had to swallow it past the lump in my throat.
SECOND CHANCES
We’ve heard over and over how God is a God of 2nd chances, and He certainly is. Usually, we are referring to the continual opportunities he grants us to be Born Again, or to come back to Him in repentance. Yes, ABSOLUTELY!
He’s also the God of 2nd chances when He’s teaching us to follow the leading of the Holy Ghost, and when He is teaching us how to hear His voice, and be sensitive to the moving of His Spirit.
He is constantly schooling us in the art of handling humanity. His people. Not only those who are sanctified and in His service, but also those who are banged up, running, going through a hard season they’ve brought on themselves by terrible choices, and even the brash & crusty ones.
Thankfully, He keeps giving us chance after chance to get it right. He’s the God of 2nd chances.
What has He given you 2nd chances to learn and apply in your walk with Him?
Warm Regards,
~Pat Vick~.
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It was the final extended trip of the year for us. The exclamation point on our year of travels. We were in the mountains of East Tennessee, as we usually are at this time in the Fall of the year. A nine day trip filled with multiple events. Our annual Tennessee District UPCI Ministers’ Retreat, and several days of motorcycle riding with friends, bookended between two weekends of ministry.
It was Monday, November 4th, and we were riding the ROARING FORK MOTOR NATURE TRAIL with several of our TenPen Riders. The mountain vistas were breathtaking in their autumn foliage. I was taking photos of the broad canvas masterpiece God had painted. That’s when I heard him whisper into my spirit, “Look closer.”
As we rode along, attempting to be obedient to the unction of the Spirit, I began snapping shots of closer objects. Boulders, rock ledges and the overhead canopy of tree branches. The images were still pretty good even though we were on the move. The familiar voice came again, ever so clearly, “Look closer.”
Again, out of obedience, I continued snapping photos close to the roadway we were traveling. A meandering mountain brook. A hollow tree stump blanketed in green velvet. A jaunty tuft of ferns. These images, however, were blurry because we were on the move. No matter how many I took, they were either distorted, or I didn’t actually capture what I was aiming for in the shot. I began a silent lament, “Lord, I can’t get a good shot because we’re moving too fast.”To which He immediately replied, “That’s right. You can’t see the blessings closest to you when you’re moving so fast.”
I knew without question what He was referring to. Even in this week of spiritual highs, and making memories with dear friends, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I purposed in my mind to write a devotion about what God had revealed to me…just as soon as I had the time.
I silently prayed the prayer which was destined to change the trajectory of my immediate future. “Lord, you know I would slow down if I could. You also know I don’t really have a lot of control over my schedule.” The words He impressed in my spirit left me wondering whether I really wanted to know the solution He had in mind…
”Oh, I can take care of that.”
Four days later, we had come to the end of our allotted riding days, and would transition back into the second weekend of ministry before making our way home to West Tennessee. We made a visit to the special place at the entrance of the Great Smokey Mountain National Park which my husband’s mother, Linda, always loved. It’s right by the Welcome to the Smokey Mountains sign where we stopped and took photos, as we always do. We walked down into the riverbed, retelling the stories that my sweet mother-in-love had often conveyed to us of how her father had brought her here when she was a little girl.
I was taking photos of the scenery, and noticed several stacks of rocks in the riverbed that someone had taken the time to carefully erect. It made for a wonderful shot, but I decided I could get an even better one if I stepped on a few rocks to get a better angle. The rocks were only a few inches high, but they were a bit slippery. We had also hiked up to CLINGMAN’S DOME a few hours earlier, so my legs were like noodles. Still, it was going to be the best photo of all…
It’s amazing how quickly situations can change. One second I was up. The next, I was flat on my back in the riverbed with water running around my head and into my ears. I immediately thought my leg was broken, as I had never felt that kind of pain before. My husband rushed over, and pulled me up to a standing position. It quickly became obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to get me back up the bank by himself. Thankfully, several hikers came by at just that moment, and offered assistance. It took my husband and three random strangers to haul me up out of the riverbed.
Here’s a humorous “twist” to the story. (Pun intended) I can only imagine how pitiful I must have looked. We had been riding the motorcycle, so I was wearing a skullcap, which my grey hair was whisping out from in all directions. I was muddy, wet and wearing a skirt with leggings. I’m sure these good Samaritans had never seen the likes. I could tell from the way they were speaking to me as they were heaving me up the bank, they thought I was elderly. When we finally made it to the road level, one asked, “Okay, Hon, can we help you to your car?”They began to look around for an ancient sedan suitable for such an old grandma. My husband quickly replied, “No, we’re on that bike right there.” They were shocked into complete and utter silence. Crickets. 🦗 🦗 🦗
A trip to the ER revealed my leg was indeed broken. It could have been much worse. There was no protruding, nor misaligned bones. Only a clean, spiral break just above the ankle. It was enough to solve the problem I was lamenting to the Lord about. In one divine moment, I had no other option but to slow down and heal.
[bctt tweet=”“Being busy for God isn’t always being productive for Him.”” username=”patvickdotcom”]
The holidays came and went during my eight week convalescence. I put up minimal decorations, and entertained none at all. I did, however, have plenty of focused time for prayer, writing and squeezing grand boys. I was able for the first time in a long time to “look closer” at the blessings God has gifted me.
Realizing my situation was a God-ordained lesson, I determined to learn what He was teaching.
10 LESSONS I LEARNED THE HARD WAY
1. Time is precious. Use it wisely.
2. Words matter. Pray as specifically as possible.
3. Don’t complain to God, and expect Him to do nothing.
4. When you ask God to fix a problem, keep an open mind over how He chooses to do it.
5. When God chooses an uncomfortable path for you, determine to not be offended at Him.
6. Down time can be productive prayer time.
7. Family members are our greatest blessings. Take time to appreciate them.
8. Make time to slow down or God will maneuver the universe to alter your course.
9. Be thankful for every blessing in your life.
10. Building relationships is more important than going, doing and having.
11. (BONUS!) Being busy for God isn’t always being productive for Him.
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
1. What are the blessings God is asking you to slow down and appreciate?
2. What have you recently complained to God about?
3. Is it something in your power to fix?
4. What lessons has God taught you the hard way?
***I love reading your feedback! Please feel free to leave a comment. Let’s keep in touch!***
We built our home almost twenty years ago. People say you should build your first house to practice on, and then build your second one where you want to live forever. No matter how much thought and research you put into the design of your first home, there are always things you wish you had done differently. The main reason is that you don’t know what you don’t know.
One thing I have consistently regretted about the design of our home is the kitchen walking space. There is an island in the middle of the kitchen. I have tons of cabinets, drawers and countertops. The space on either side of the island, however, is more narrow than I would like. I have frequently complained that we didn’t make these spaces wider. My comment at every family gathering has been, “Two ladies can work together in here if they like each other. Three ladies had better really like each other because they will be bumping into one another coming and going.”
Fast forward almost twenty years to November 2024 when I fell and broke my leg. Overnight, I found myself in a walking boot and crutches. I could carry nothing. I learned a system to work in my kitchen by picking up an item, pivoting while not actually taking a step, to place the item on the island. I then hobbled on my crutches to the other side of the island, picking up the item and pivoting while not taking a step, to place the item on the opposite counter space. This is how I worked without assistance to move pots, pans and food around the kitchen.
One day in the middle of moving a heavy pitcher of tea from the refrigerator to the opposite countertop and back, I realized the goodness and forethought of God. If the walking space had been any wider, I wouldn’t be able to do anything in my kitchen by myself during this time of healing. Immediately, I was ashamed for all those years of complaining. God had been working for my good all along.
What do you consistently wrestle with that keeps you filled with regret, frustration and complaint? I encourage you to give it to God in prayer, and be at peace. He knows the end from the beginning. At some point in the future, you will be surprised at how He has been working it for your good all along.
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
MY PRAYER
Heavenly Father,
There are many things I can do nothing about at this point. Things that consistently cause me regret and frustration. Instead of complaining, help me to lay them at your feet, knowing you are working all things for my good.
-the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint.
-exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
-the power to determine action without restraint.
Most every person, whether they’ve learned the technical definition or not, understand the word. Every one of us has longed for freedom from something. Whether it’s freedom from physical or emotional slavery, freedom from an abusive relationship, freedom from addictions, freedom from a tyrannical government, freedom from our past or freedom from our own tortuous thoughts, we all have felt the longing to be liberated. Freedom is a beautiful word.
Author Maya Angelou published her autobiography,I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings in 1969. Having never read her book (which I will soon rectify), I’m still moved by the image the title evokes in my mind’s eye. A small bird, alone in its confinement, with its face toward the sun, singing it’s little heart out. I’ll find out Maya Angelou’s why when I read her story, but I imagine the caged bird sings out of hope. Humans and all of God’s creatures are born with an innate sense of hope. A hope for freedom. Freedom is a beautiful word.
Today is July 4th, the day Americans celebrate our freedom of independence. There will be flags unfurled, grills fired up, tables spread and the sky will be aglow with explosions of color. America The Beautiful will be sung with pride, Corn Hole tournaments will ensue and laughter will dominate the atmosphere of every family gathering. Freedom is a beautiful word.
Sadly, after the celebrations are over, flags are folded for another year, fireworks have burned out, the music has quieted, this year’s Corn Hole champion has been crowned and the laughter has retreated into a heavy evening hush, many will still not be free.
Sooner or later, every individual must come to the realization that no government, politician, patriotic song or peer group can truly make one free. True freedom only comes through Jesus Christ, and specifically through being Born Again according to His Word (Acts 2:38)
I remember when I was baptized in Jesus’ name. When I came up out of the water, I felt completely free from sin. Likewise, I remember when I received the Holy Ghost (God’s Spirit). I was standing in the aisle of Rushings Chapel Pentecostal Church. I lifted my hands in surrender, began worshiping the Lord out loud, and He poured His Spirit into me, changing my English praises into a language I had never learned. I felt completely free from fear which had plagued me my whole life.
While I am exceedingly thankful to be an American, being Born Again of the water and the Spirit is what truly brings freedom. I will add my personal definition of freedom to those listed above: to be liberated from sin and fear.
We never stop learning throughout our life. At fifty-seven, I’ve recently learned a disturbing something about myself, and my relationship with God. I have a difficult time relating to Him as my Heavenly Father.
That probably sounds shocking. Just breathe a second, and let me explain…while I work my way through it in my own mind. Anyone who knows me, knows that I love God. I love His Word. I love His name, Jesus. I love His Truth. I love His people. I love His holiness. I love living for Him.
This revelation isn’t about my belief in Him, or my love for Him. It’s about how I view Him. I have no problem seeing Him as omniscient (all knowing), omnipresent (everywhere present; nowhere absent) or omnipotent (all powerful). I have no problem seeing Him as Holy and Righteous. There is, however, something about relating to Him as Abba Father that I get emotionally stuck on.
When the Lord brought my attention to this personal struggle to my mind this week, I wanted to tell Him it wasn’t true. After all, He calls Himself our Heavenly Father. It’s His very own description of His foundational relationship to us. When I began to dig deep into my heart, and ask myself why I struggled in this area, I came to some uncomfortable truths.
Those closest to me know that I’m adopted. This fact holds the key to my inner struggle with relating to God as my Heavenly Father. My earliest memory is of being in a small, dark room. The one room seemed to have a small kitchen and a cot off to the side. Sitting on the cot was a man, presumably my father. He was either putting on, or taking off his artificial leg. The whole scene was dark, claustrophobic and altogether terrifying. Under three years old, I faded into the background, and became invisible. For many years.
My second father was my foster dad, Darv. He was everything a child dreams of having in a father. He was the hands on, teach you to ride a bike, jump into my arms, I won’t let you sink kind of dad. I lived in his home for four years before I was adopted, and moved across the state. It’s impossible for a seven year old child to understand why it’s better for her to be removed from a comfortable, safe and loving home after four years, and be sent to live with strangers.
My third father was my adoptive dad, Frank. He was in politics at the time, and for many years after. He was a powerbroker. A lawmaker. He made things happen. People scurried to do his bidding. He pushed through legislation that changed the lives of communities. He did good for people.
He wasn’t a hands on dad, though. Perhaps that’s because he lost his own dad at a very young age. We are all molded by the examples in our lives. Some teach us how we want to be. Others teach us how we don’t want to be. More often than not, it’s a bit of both because no one man can fulfill every characteristic of God perfectly and consistently.
It’s more than challenging for a child to make sense of a scary, one legged old man in the shadows, or why her storybook father was taken away, or why her powerful father who did so much good for people wasn’t in her day to day life. The adult version of myself has learned just because something is hard or painful doesn’t mean it’s not God’s will. He had His hand upon me through all the traumatic years, lovingly bringing me into His perfect plan for my life.
It’s not my intention to bring disrespect to any of my three fathers. I loved them, and am thankful for their part in raising and providing for me. I know they loved me, and did what they felt was best for me. (Admittedly, the first one is sketchy, but I try to give him the benefit of the doubt.) I’m simply attempting to explain to you (and myself) why it’s challenging for me to relate to God as my Heavenly Father.
Why Does It Matter How We View God?
I have to believe I’m not the only one who struggles in this area. Broken and dysfunctional families are most often the norm. So, why does it even matter whether I see God as my Heavenly paternal figure? It matters because it is truth. It matters because ‘Heavenly Father’ is how He sees Himself in relationship to us. It matters because we can’t trust Him completely if we don’t view Him first as our loving Father.
How Am I Going To Change My Perception of God?
1. I’m going to talk to Him about it. One thing I know about God (because it comes naturally for me to see Him as all powerful) is that He can handle our questions and the areas we struggle in. I’ve determined I’m going to be open with Him, and share my weaknesses. When I have a very personal situation, I struggle believing He is invested emotionally in my situation. Oh, I know He loves me, and is working for my good, but this thing that is so trivial in light of saving the world, does it break His heart like it breaks mine? I need to believe it does.
2. I’m going to read His Word. Scripture assures me that He cares for the things that burden me. If I ask for bread, He’s not going to give me a stone, because He’s a good, good Father.
3. I’m going to remind myself of the truth often. Verbalizing my belief in His love for me is vital. It pushes the enemy’s voice into the background, and allows my Father’s Voice to come to the forefront. I’m going to say it until I believe it with my heart, not just my head.
4. I’m going to practice inviting Him into my day to day struggles. This, I have learned is key. If I don’t think He cares for the small struggles in my life, I won’t ask for His help. Yes, I will trust Him in the big things, because that’s what He does…but will I trust Him enough to invite Him into my day to day messes?
5. I’m going to be transparent, and not silent because others are struggling in this area, as well. There’s nothing new under the sun, and people are people every day. We need to not be silent, pretending we have it all together.
Hopefully, exposing my weakness in this area has helped you to be honest with yourself and God about your own weaknesses. If you struggle relating to God as your Heavenly Father, refer to the steps listed above. Hopefully, my transparency will help you to see God the way He desires for you to know Him. Oh, and why not offer a bit of grace to your earthly fathers, as well as to yourself? It’s true we can all do better, and God is a good, GOOD Father.
“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” (Matthew 7:7-11)
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” (James 1:17)
Blessings For Your Day! -Pat
You may also email me at PAT@PATVICK.COM. I usually am able to reply within 24 hours.
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“Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:12)
I was impressed with this reference as I was telling the Lord, “I hope to be a better wife. I hope to be a better mother. I hope to be a better sister, friend, saint, etc, I hope to be more beneficial to the Kingdom. I hope to be more disciplined. I repented of my lethargy and many failures.
Not knowing what the scripture reference was, I turned the pages of my Bible, and read the words. I felt God letting me know through His Word that He understands I haven’t reached perfection yet. I am on a journey of pursuit. I am following the leading of His Spirit, so that at some point in the future, I WILL APPREHEND. (Strong’s #G2638 “Take eagerly, Seize, Possess) what God HAS APPREHENDED (Same Word) me for.
God has taken hold of me eagerly. He has Seized hold of me. He has possessed me for His purpose. HE’S GOT ME! As long as I keep pursuing Him, being sensitive to His Spirit, and obedient to His Word, He’s got me.
The road that I live on is the perfect country road for walking. From my house to my oldest son’s is one and a half miles of beautiful rolling hills and scenic pastures. Walking there and back is nearly perfect to practice for a 5K.
I rarely walk that far, though. Exactly one mile from home is my turning around spot. There is a wooden fence that meanders through the low pastures on both sides, and then the road begins its upward elevation until it reaches its highest point.
I follow the road until I reach this point. It is the one mile mark. I’m always tempted to walk further, but then reason sets in. The further I walk, the greater the distance will be to get back home.
A peculiar thing happens as I approach my turning around place. I begin to think how I am going to do it. I’m on a public road, so cars come by every so often. The people who live in the house I’m approaching can also see me if they are outside or looking out a window.
Am I going to walk to the driveway at the top of the hill and sit on the concrete bench for a minute, and then begin my walk back home? Am I going to casually look at the wildflowers on the side of the road, and then turn around? Am I going to bend down and pretend to tie my shoe? Or will I simply turn in an immediate about face and head in the other direction?
It’s funny that I’m more concerned about how I will be perceived to look when I turn around, rather than simply turning around so that I can get home.
Repentance is like this. The word actually means to turn around, or turn away from. At different times in our lives, we find ourselves walking away from our spiritual home. Away from our relationship with God and His people.
The best thing to do would be to simply turn around and go back the way we came. Instead, we spend valuable time and energy being concerned with how we will be perceived as we turn around. Unfortunately, the further we walk in the wrong direction, the longer it will take to get home.
“Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord.” (Acts 3:19)
Almost a week later, and she’s still blooming her little heart out! But that’s not the end of her story. She’s not just a $3 bulb anymore. She’s my miracle child, and she will bloom and bring joy for many years to come.
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We never stop learning throughout our life. At fifty-seven, I’ve recently learned a disturbing something about myself, and my relationship with God. I have a difficult time relating to Him as my Heavenly Father. 
The road that I live on is the perfect country road for walking. From my house to my oldest son’s is one and a half miles of beautiful rolling hills and scenic pastures. Walking there and back is nearly perfect to practice for a 5K.