Lifting You Up In Prayer Quotes

He does not ask much of us, merely a thought of Him from time to time, a little act of adoration, sometimes to ask for His grace, sometimes to offer Him your sufferings, at other times to thank Him for the graces, past and present, He has bestowed on you, in the midst of your troubles to take solace in Him as often as you can. Lift up your heart to Him during your meals and in company; the least little remembrance will always be the most pleasing to Him. One need not cry out very loudly; He is nearer to us than we think.

To lift up the hands in prayer gives God glory, but a man with a dungfork in his hand, a woman with a slop pail, give Him glory, too. God is so great that all things give Him glory if you mean that they should.

The Summer Day Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down— who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

When we held Owen Meany above our heads, when we passed him back and forth - so effortlessly - we believed that Owen weighed nothing at all. We did not realize that there were forces beyond our play. Now I know that they were the forces that contributed to our illusion of Owen's weightlessness; they were the forces we didn't have the faith to feel, they were the forces we failed to believe in - and they were also lifting up Owen Meany, taking him out of our hands. O God - please give him back! I shall keep asking You.

You'll be found, your nickels, dimes and Indian-heads fused by electroplating. Abe Lincolns melted into Miss Columbias, eagles plucked raw on the backs of quarters, all run to quicksilver in your jeans. More! Any boy hit by lightning, lift his lid and there on his eyeball, pretty as the Lord's Prayer on a pin, find the last scene the boy ever saw! A box-Brownie photo, by God, of that fire climbing down the sky to blow you like a penny whistle, suck your soul back up along the bright stair!

Imagine how differently you might approach each day by simply stating: God is good. God is good to me. God is good at being God. And today is yet another page in our great love story. Nothing that happens to you today will change that or even alter it in the slightest way. Lift your hands, heart, and soul, and receive that truth as you pray this prayer: My whole life I’ve searched for a love to satisfy the deepest longings within me to be known, treasured, and wholly accepted. When You created me, Lord, Your very first thought of me made Your heart explode with a love that set You in pursuit of me. Your love for me was so great that You, the God of the whole universe, went on a personal quest to woo me, adore me, and finally grab hold of me with the whisper, “I will never let you go.” Lord, I release my grip on all the things I was holding on to, preventing me from returning Your passionate embrace. I want nothing to hold me but You. So, with breathless wonder, I give You all my faith, all my hope, and all my love. I picture myself carrying the old, torn-out boards that inadequately propped me up and placing them in a pile. This pile contains other things I can remove from me now that my new intimacy-based identity is established. I lay down my need to understand why things happen the way they do. I lay down my fears about others walking away and taking their love with them. I lay down my desire to prove my worth. I lay down my resistance to fully trust Your thoughts, Your ways, and Your plans, Lord. I lay down being so self-consumed in an attempt to protect myself. I lay down my anger, unforgiveness, and stubborn ways that beg me to build walls when I sense hints of rejection. I lay all these things down with my broken boards and ask that Your holy fire consume them until they become weightless ashes. And as I walk away, my soul feels safe. Held. And truly free to finally be me.

Dear Lord, please lift me up and heal me. Cast out of my mind all thoughts that are not of You. Cast out of me all harsh and critical nature. Cast out of me all violence and all anger. Cast out of me all demons from my past. For I would be made new. I wish to walk so close to You that we might be as one.

Too often, people who need the cheers the most get them the least. Every day, everyone you know faces life with eternity on the line, and life has a way of beating people down. Every life needs a cheering section. Every life needs a shoulder to lean on once in a while. Every life needs a prayer to lift them up to God. Every life needs a hugger to wrap some arms around them sometimes. Every life needs to hear a voice saying, “Don’t give up.

Worship itself is made up of ordinary stuff. We use plain words. Some of the most the glorious words in Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer are, well, common and plain enough to make you weep—“We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us.” We are baptized in plain water. We consume plain bread and wine. And it all is lifted up by plain people.

James reminds us: “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up” (James 4:10, NKJV).

The quest for this unwearied inner peace is constant and universal. Probe deeply into the teachings of Buddha, Maimonides, or a Kempis, and you will discover that they base their diverse doctrines on the foundations of a large spiritual serenity. Analyze the prayers of troubled, overborne mankind of all creeds, in every age—and their petitions come down to the irreducible common denominators of daily bread and inward peace. Grown men do not pray for vain trifles. When they lift up their hearts and voices in this valley of tears they ask for strength and courage and understanding.

What does a future with you look like, Joshua Carter?” Thwack. “A lot of prayers.” His ass flexed. Thwack. “Bible study three times a day.” Thwack. He lifted up on his toes, his voice hoarse. “No smoking and cussing.” Very funny. Thwack. “Missionary position only.” A laugh burst from her throat, and she stumbled, her swing missing him completely. “But no sex until we’re married.” Oh my God. Did he really just mimic her practiced deadpanned tone? She moved to stand in front of him, so she could watch his mouth. “You’re going to hell.” His lips twitched then erupted into a full-faced smile. “Oh, good. I was worried you’d be there without me.

The Prayer Process 1. Gratitude: Begin by thanking God in a personal dialogue for whatever you are most grateful for today. 2. Awareness: Revisit the times in the past twenty-four hours when you were and were not the-best-version-of-yourself. Talk to God about these situations and what you learned from them. 3. Significant Moments: Identify something you experienced today and explore what God might be trying to say to you through that event (or person). 4. Peace: Ask God to forgive you for any wrong you have committed (against yourself, another person, or him) and to fill you with a deep and abiding peace. 5. Freedom: Speak with God about how he is inviting you to change your life, so that you can experience the freedom to be the-best-version-of-yourself. 6. Others: Lift up to God anyone you feel called to pray for today, asking God to bless and guide them. 7. Finish by praying the Our Father.

you understood any world besides your own, you would understand your own much better.—When a heart is really alive, then it is able to think live things. There is one heart all whose thoughts are strong, happy creatures, and whose very dreams are lives. When some pray, they lift heavy thoughts from the ground, only to drop them on it again; others send up their prayers in living shapes, this or that, the nearest likeness to each. All live things were thoughts to begin with, and are fit therefore to be used by those that think. When one says to the great Thinker:—‘Here is one of thy thoughts: I am thinking it now!’ that is a prayer—a word to the big heart

When the world began, it was very small. Songs blew the earth up to its present size. Songs turn frustration into power, anxiety into comfort. Like a blanket, they form a zone of protection around the singer. Sing on the way home alone at night in a fearful place and the song will move out into the space around you. Is this not prayer, sounds that come from our breath, lifting the spirit as they meet the air?

Avoid vice, therefore, and cultivate virtue; lift up your mind to the right kind of hope, and put forth humble prayers on high. A great necessity is laid upon you, if you will be honest with yourself, a great necessity to be good, since you live in the sight of a judge who sees all things.

Does your Christian (partner) pray? ... if not, you’ll walk through life without the person who knows you most lifting you up in prayerful support. You’ll be the only one supporting your kids in prayer. You’ll be married to someone who isn’t opening themselves up to gods conviction encouragement and support.

PRAYER IS AN EGG On Resurrection Day God will say, "What did you do with the strength and energy your food gave you on earth? How did you use your eyes? What did you make with your five senses while they were dimming and playing out? I gave you hands and feet as tools for preparing the ground for planting. Did you, in the health I gave, do the plowing?" You will not be able to stand when you hear those questions. You will bend double, and finally acknowledge the glory. God will say, "Lift your head and answer the questions." Your head will rise a little, then slump again. "Look at me! Tell what you've done." You try, but you fall back flat as a snake. "I want every detail. Say!" Eventually you will be able to get to a sitting position. "Be plain and clear. I have given you such gifts. What did you do with them?" You turn to the right looking to the prophet for help, as though to say, I am stuck in the mud of my life. Help me out of this! They will answer, those kings, "The time for helping is past. The plow stands there in the field. You should have used it. "Then you turn to the left, where your family is, and they will say, "Don't look at us! This conversation is between you and your creator." Then you pray the prayer that is the essence of every ritual: God, I have no hope. I am torn to shreds. You are my first and last and only refuge. Don't do daily prayers like a bird pecking, moving its head up and down. Prayer is an egg. Hatch out the total helplessness inside.

In the midst of the turbulence, lift up your voice and praise God. He will fight the battle for you.

They shouted, “No, I’ll lift you up in prayer,” at each other.

Truly I tell you, whoever says to this mountain, Be lifted up and thrown into the sea! and does not doubt at all in his heart but believes that what he says will take place, it will be done for him. For this reason I am telling you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe (trust and be confident) that it is granted to you, and you will [get it]. Mark 11:23,24

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN we pray? Have you ever really thought about that? When you bow your knee and fold your hands or walk the floor with your eyes closed, opening your heart to heaven, what exactly happens? There are very few references in the Bible about the proper procedures for how to pray, and I believe that is because prayer is more about the heart’s attitude and focus than it is about whether we stand, sit, close our eyes, or any other practice we normally associate with prayer. The truth be told, if we are supposed to pray without ceasing, we should also be able to work on an engine, write an e-mail, give a presentation, change a diaper, write a report, have coffee with a friend, encourage a coworker, pay our bills, and any of the other myriad of things we do in a day while still keeping the communication lines open with heaven. I believe that every day we need focused times of prayer, but at all other times we should be in an attitude of prayer with our spiritual ears open to the thoughts of heaven. There should be seasons of intense, concentrated prayer and fasting with specified hours set aside for intercession, and there should be times when prayer is simply a regular part of our daily routine. A great interest has arisen in the last decade around 24-7 prayer rooms where different church members pray in hour-long blocks so that unbroken intercession is raised up for their city and our world. Other churches dedicate evenings solely to prayer and worship and gather believers to lift their voices in song and petition to the Lord. While all of these are wonderful things to do, at its essence prayer is simply conversation with God. Because we have changed passports from the kingdom of this world to the kingdom of heaven, we are members of God’s family and therefore have the right to talk with our Father anytime we want because He is not limited by time and space. Yet while it isn’t difficult to speak to Him, even as a babe in faith, it does take some maturity to discern His voice from the voice of our own thoughts, dreams, and desires. This is why, when I speak about prayer, I get more questions about hearing the voice of God than anything else.

Connect with positive people who will stand in faith with you and lift you up in prayer. Study the Word of God and put your faith in action, for the Bible declares, "Faith without deeds is dead" (James 2:26)

So what are we watching, anyway?” “Fast six.” I realized the polite thing to do would have been to ask if he liked the Fast & Furious series, but if he didn’t, I couldn’t date him anyway. “And if I haven’t seen one through five?” “Then you’re basically un-American. Besides, what’s there to know? Fast cars, pretty girls, hot guys, stealin’ stuff in ways that could never happen… aaand you’re all caught up.” His beautifully chocolate brown eyes went skyward. “Let me guess, you’re a Rock fan?” “And Paul Walker, and Tyrese… the Asian guy, and a little Vin Diesel action doesn’t go amiss either. Any way you look, you win.” “I haven’t liked the Rock since SmackDown.” I pretended to clasp my hands in prayer and closed my eyes. “Let him keep his gay card, Lord, for he knows not what he says.” He grinned. “You’re lucky you’re fine.” “Am I?” I lifted my brows. A queen did need his compliments, after all.

Gladden the soul of your servant,         for to you, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.     5 For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving,         abounding in steadfast love to all who call upon you.     6 Give ear, O LORD, to my prayer;         listen to my plea for grace.

No one can live your life for you. No one but yourself can answer your questions, meet your responsibilities, make your decisions and choices. Your relations with God no one but yourself can fulfil. No one can believe for you. A thousand friends may encircle you and pray for your soul, but until you lift up your own heart in prayer no communication is established between you and God. No one can get your sins forgiven but yourself. No one can obey God for you. No other one can do your work for Christ, or render your account at the judgment-seat.

I've stuck like a plaster to the old faith I was born in. Yes; there's this to be said for the Church, a man can belong to the Church and bide in his cheerful old inn, and never trouble or worry his mind about doctrines at all. But to be a meetinger, you must go to chapel in all winds and weathers, and make yerself as frantic as a skit. Not but that chapel members be clever chaps enough in their way. They can lift up beautiful prayers out of their own heads, all about their families and shipwrecks in the newspaper." "They can -- they can," said Mark Clark, with corroborative feeling; "but we Churchmen, you see, must have it all printed aforehand, or, dang it all, we should no more know what to say to a great gaffer like the Lord than babes unborn," "Chapelfolk be more hand-in-glove with them above than we," said Joseph, thoughtfully. "Yes," said Coggan. "We know very well that if anybody do go to heaven, they will. They've worked hard for it, and they deserve to have it, such as 'tis. I bain't such a fool as to pretend that we who stick to the Church have the same chance as they, because we know we have not. But I hate a feller who'll change his old ancient doctrines for the sake of getting to heaven.

The Three-Decker "The three-volume novel is extinct." Full thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail. It cost a watch to steer her, and a week to shorten sail; But, spite all modern notions, I found her first and best— The only certain packet for the Islands of the Blest. Fair held the breeze behind us—’twas warm with lovers’ prayers. We’d stolen wills for ballast and a crew of missing heirs. They shipped as Able Bastards till the Wicked Nurse confessed, And they worked the old three-decker to the Islands of the Blest. By ways no gaze could follow, a course unspoiled of Cook, Per Fancy, fleetest in man, our titled berths we took With maids of matchless beauty and parentage unguessed, And a Church of England parson for the Islands of the Blest. We asked no social questions—we pumped no hidden shame— We never talked obstetrics when the Little Stranger came: We left the Lord in Heaven, we left the fiends in Hell. We weren’t exactly Yussufs, but—Zuleika didn’t tell. No moral doubt assailed us, so when the port we neared, The villain had his flogging at the gangway, and we cheered. ’Twas fiddle in the forc’s’le—’twas garlands on the mast, For every one got married, and I went ashore at last. I left ’em all in couples a-kissing on the decks. I left the lovers loving and the parents signing cheques. In endless English comfort by county-folk caressed, I left the old three-decker at the Islands of the Blest! That route is barred to steamers: you’ll never lift again Our purple-painted headlands or the lordly keeps of Spain. They’re just beyond your skyline, howe’er so far you cruise In a ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws. Swing round your aching search-light—’twill show no haven’s peace. Ay, blow your shrieking sirens to the deaf, gray-bearded seas! Boom out the dripping oil-bags to skin the deep’s unrest— And you aren’t one knot the nearer to the Islands of the Blest! But when you’re threshing, crippled, with broken bridge and rail, At a drogue of dead convictions to hold you head to gale, Calm as the Flying Dutchman, from truck to taffrail dressed, You’ll see the old three-decker for the Islands of the Blest. You’ll see her tiering canvas in sheeted silver spread; You’ll hear the long-drawn thunder ’neath her leaping figure-head; While far, so far above you, her tall poop-lanterns shine Unvexed by wind or weather like the candles round a shrine! Hull down—hull down and under—she dwindles to a speck, With noise of pleasant music and dancing on her deck. All’s well—all’s well aboard her—she’s left you far behind, With a scent of old-world roses through the fog that ties you blind. Her crew are babes or madmen? Her port is all to make? You’re manned by Truth and Science, and you steam for steaming’s sake? Well, tinker up your engines—you know your business best— She’s taking tired people to the Islands of the Blest!

The glib way people talk about prayer often reinforces our cynicism. We end our conversations with “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” We have a vocabulary of “prayer speak,” including “I’ll lift you up in prayer” and “I’ll remember you in prayer.” Many who use these phrases, including us, never get around to praying. Why? Because we don’t think prayer makes much difference.

We did not realize that there were forces beyond our play. Now I know they were the forces that contributed to our illusion of Owen’s weightlessness; they were the forces we didn’t have the faith to feel, they were the forces we failed to believe in—and they were also lifting up Owen Meany, taking him out of our hands. O God—please give him back! I shall keep asking You.

I Pray For This Girl Oh yes! For the young girl Who just landed on Mother Earth! The one about to turn five with a smile Or the other one who just turned nine She is not only mine My Mother’s, Grandmother’s Neighbour’s or friend’s daughter She is like a flower Very fragile, yet so gorgeous An Angel whose wings are invisible I speak life to this young or older girl She might not have a say But expects the world to be a better place Whether affluent or impoverished No matter her state of mind Her background must not determine How she is treated She needs to live, she has to thrive! Lord God Almighty Sanctify her unique journey Save her from the claws of the enemy Shield her against any brutality Restore her if pain becomes a reality Embrace her should joy pass swiftly When emptiness fills her heart severely May you be her sanctuary! Dear Father, please give her The honour to grow without being frightened Hope whenever she feels forsaken Contentment even after her heart was broken Comfort when she is shaken Courage when malice creeps in Calm when she needs peace Strength when she is weak Freedom to climb on a mountain peak And wisdom to tackle any season Guide her steps, keep her from tumbling My Lord, if she does sometimes stumble Lift her up, so she can rise and ramble Grant her power to wisely triumph On my knees, I plead meekly for this girl I may have never met her I may not know her name I may not be in her shoes I may not see her cries Yet, I grasp her plight Wherever she is King of Kings Be with her Each and every day I pray for this girl

THE WELL Be thankful now for having arrived, for the sense of having drunk from a well, for remembering the long drought that preceded your arrival and the years walking in a desert landscape of surfaces looking for a spring hidden from you so long that even wanting to find it now had gone from your mind until you only remembered the hard pilgrimage that brought you here, the thirst that caught in your throat; the taste of a world just-missed and the dry throat that came from a love you remembered but had never fully wanted for yourself, until finally after years making the long trek to get here it was as if your whole achievement had become nothing but thirst itself. But the miracle had come simply from allowing yourself to know that you had found it, that this time someone walking out into the clear air from far inside you had decided not to walk past it any more; the miracle had come at the roadside in the kneeling to drink and the prayer you said, and the tears you shed and the memory you held and the realization that in this silence you no longer had to keep your eyes and ears averted from the place that could save you, that you had been given the strength to let go of the thirsty dust laden pilgrim-self that brought you here, walking with her bent back, her bowed head and her careful explanations. No, the miracle had already happened when you stood up, shook off the dust and walked along the road from the well, out of the desert toward the mountain, as if already home again, as if you deserved what you loved all along, as if just remembering the taste of that clear cool spring could lift up your face and set you free.

Work on yourself and never react to the condition. This is the freedom you've got from dharma and karma. When you begin to see the truth in yourself, automatically you will be picked up by the Power That Knows The Way, and you'll be placed in a position or place where you are supposed to be at this time. This is why I tell you so often, there are no mistakes. It appears complicated to the finite mind, but you are in your right place, going through those experiences that are right for you at this time. Only if you are thankful and you bless the position you're in, do you become a higher being, do you lift yourself up, and finally you find liberation. But it begins and ends with you. Never pray to God for release of your problems. Never pray to God to change your life, and to give you something better. This is wrong prayer. If you have to pray to God, pray to God to give you the strength and the wisdom and the courage that you need to be able to handle the situation that you're in. This is correct prayer. Do not try to change anything. Be yourself. Work on yourself. Begin to see things in a new light. See your situation differently. There are no bad things, there are no good things. But thinking makes it so. Stop thinking of the extremes, good and bad, right and wrong. Rather look at yourself in the moment. Stay centered. See yourself as a Divine Being, an Infinite Being, totally free and liberated. Do not feel sorry for yourself because you are in a position and in a situation you don't like. This just holds you there more. And again as we mentioned before, even if you run away from a situation, you will attract some of the circumstances elsewhere. Running away is never the answer. Changing yourself is the answer. (p. 185)

To this day, I can see the bright, raspberry red glow. The reactor seemed lit up from inside. It was an incredible colour. Not an ordinary fire, but a kind of shining. Very pretty. If you forget all the rest, it was very pretty. I’d never seen anything like it in the movies, there was just nothing comparable. In the evening, everyone came out on to their balconies; if they didn’t have one, they went to their friends and neighbours. We were on the eighth floor and had a great view. About three kilometres as the crow flies. People brought out their children and lifted them up. ‘Look! Don’t forget this!’ And these were people who worked at the reactor: engineers, workmen. There were even physics teachers, standing in that black dust, chatting away. Breathing it in. Admiring the sight. Some people drove dozens of kilometres or cycled to see it. We had no idea death could look so pretty.

In short, while I certainly don’t have all the answers, when I look at the brokenness of this world: it is not God’s fingerprints that I find on the smoking gun at the scene of the crime. You know where I do see His fingerprints? On the torturous crossbeam that Jesus held onto tightly, as He carried my cross through the streets and up to Calvary. I see them on the nails he gripped while hanging there to die my death for me. I see His fingerprints all over the places where Christ stood in my place, and where he took me by the hand to lead me into the eternal glory of new life in Him. I find the fingerprints everywhere that my Father, in His relentless love, searched for me in the night of my own darkness. Or I find them wrapped around me, in the places my Father held me in His loving embrace, and on His best robes He threw around me to clothe me, after I came home exhausted from a long journey of running away (Luke 15:20). I see the hand of God where the Holy Spirit worked His wonders and miracles, and cast out the darkness with His invincible light. Surely this was the “finger of God” (Luke 11:20). I see God in the hands of the nurses and doctors who cared for our son, and the friends and family who reached out with compassion and grace to lift us when we were down. Everywhere I find pure light, life and love: those are the places I find God in the story.

The moon had risen higher and the moonlight was bright in the little open place. All around it the shadows were dark among the trees. “After a long while, a doe and her yearling fawn came stepping daintily out of the shadows. They were not afraid at all. They walked over to the place where I had sprinkled the salt, and they both licked up a little of it. “Then they raised their heads and looked at each other. The fawn stepped over and stood beside the doe. They stood there together, looking at the woods and the moonlight. Their large eyes were shining and soft. “I just sat there looking at them, until they walked away among the shadows. Then I climbed down out of the tree and came home.” Laura whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you didn’t shoot them!” Mary said, “We can eat bread and butter.” Pa lifted Mary up out of her chair and hugged them both together. “You’re my good girls,” he said. “And now it’s bedtime. Run along, while I get my fiddle.” When Laura and Mary had said their prayers and were tucked snugly under the trundle bed’s covers, Pa was sitting in the firelight with the fiddle. Ma had blown out the lamp because she did not need its light. On the other side of the hearth she was swaying gently in her rocking chair and her knitting needles flashed in and out above the sock she was knitting. The long winter evenings of fire-light and music had come again.

When we held Owen Meany above our heads, when we passed him back and forth—so effortlessly—we believed that Owen weighed nothing at all. We did not realize that there were forces beyond our play. Now I know they were the forces that contributed to our illusion of Owen’s weightlessness; they were the forces we didn’t have the faith to feel, they were the forces we failed to believe in—and they were also lifting up Owen Meany, taking him out of our hands. O God—please give him back! I shall keep asking You.

You need to take time to get alone with God, to get in a secret place with God and cry out to him. Don’t pray convenient prayers. Prayers that don’t move you won’t move him. They’ve got to be sacrificial prayers. They’ve got to be prayers that cost. They’ve got to affect how you think and how you feel. You pray and you say, ‘God, I don’t want to live knowing that a lifestyle of miracles is possible, that I could actually live like your Son Jesus lived, and yet not experience that. I don’t want to live another kind of a life. It’s the only way I can possibly be satisfied.’ And we cry out to God. We may have friends that have this disease or that disease, so we stand before the Lord, we lift up our voice and we go into that secret place with the Lord and we cry out to him. We bring the names of diseases or afflictions or problems. We bring them up before the Lord. And then when we are in public we look for people with problems. The real key for this thing is that in private you cry out to God and in public you take risk.   HEALINGS

He was beautiful. Whatever else he was, Sage was by far the most magnetic man I had ever seen. I had felt it in my dreams, and it was even more true in real life. I welcomed the chance to study him without his knowledge. He glanced up, and I quickly closed my eyes, feigning sleep. Had he seen me? The scratching stopped. He was looking at me, I knew it. I held my breath and willed my eyes not to pop open and see if he was staring. Finally the scratching started up again. I forced myself to slowly count to ten before I opened my eyelids the tiniest bit and peeked through my lashes. Good-he wasn’t looking at me. I opened my eyes a little wider. What was he doing? Moving only my eyes, I glanced down at the dirt floor in front of him… …and saw a picture of me, fast asleep. It was incredible. I could see his tools laid out beside the picture: rocks in several sizes and shapes, a couple of twigs…the most rudimentary materials, and yet what he was etching into the floor wouldn’t look out of place on an art gallery wall. It was beautiful…far more beautiful than I thought I actually looked in my sleep. Is that how he saw me? Sage lifted his head again, and I shut my eyes. I imagined him studying me, taking careful note of my features and filtering them through his own senses. My heartbeat quickened, and it took all my willpower to remain still. “You can keep pretending to be asleep if you’d like, but I don’t see a career for you as an actress,” he teased. My eyes sprang open. Sage’s head was again bent over his etching, but a grin played on his face as he worked. “You knew?” I asked, mortified. Sage put a finger to his lips, glancing toward Ben. “About two minutes before you woke up, I knew,” he whispered. “Your breathing hanged.” He bent back over the drawing, then impishly asked, “Pleasant dreams?” My heart stopped, and I felt myself blush bright crimson as I remembered our encounter in the bottom of the rowboat. I sent a quick prayer to whoever or whatever might be listening that I hadn’t re-enacted any of it in my sleep, then said as nonchalantly as possible, “I don’t know, I can’t remember what I dreamed about. Why?” He swapped out the rock in his hand for one with a thinner edge and worked for another moment. “No reason…just heard my name.” I hoped the dim moonlight shadowed the worst of my blush. “Your name,” I reiterated. “That’s…interesting. They say dreams sort out things that happen when we’re awake.” “Hmm. Did you sort anything out?” he asked. “Like I said, I can’t remember.” I knew he didn’t believe me. Time to change the subject. I nodded to the etching. “Can I come look?

the Apostle say: Pray without ceasing. [147] Yet can we genuflect without ceasing? Can we prostrate without ceasing? Can we lift up our hands without ceasing? How, then, does he say: Pray without ceasing? If by prayer he meant such things as these then I think we could not pray without ceasing. But there is another prayer, an interior prayer, which is without ceasing—desire. Whatever else you do, if only you desire that rest [148] you cease not to pray. If you wish to pray without ceasing then desire without ceasing. Your continual desire is your continual voice;

Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist . . .” Lord, I put on the belt of truth. I choose a lifestyle of honesty and integrity. Show me the truths I so desperately need today. Expose the lies I’m not even aware that I’m believing. “. . . with the breastplate of righteousness in place . . .” And yes, Lord, I wear your righteousness today against all condemnation and corruption. Fit me with your holiness and purity—defend me from all assaults against my heart. “. . . and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace . . .” I do choose to live for the gospel at any moment. Show me where the larger story is unfolding and keep me from being so lax that I think the most important thing today is the soap operas of this world. “In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one . . .” Jesus, I lift against every lie and every assault the confidence that you are good, and that you have good in store for me. Nothing is coming today that can overcome me because you are with me. “. . . Take the helmet of salvation . . .” Thank you, Lord, for my salvation. I receive it in a new and fresh way from you and I declare that nothing can separate me now from the love of Christ and the place I shall ever have in your kingdom. “. . . and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God . . .” Holy Spirit, show me specifically today the truths of the Word of God that I will need to counter the assaults and the snares of the Enemy. Bring them to mind throughout the day. “. . . And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.” Finally, Holy Spirit, I agree to walk in step with you in everything—in all prayer as my spirit communes with you throughout the day. (6:13-18)

February 12 MORNING “For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.” — 2 Corinthians 1:5 HERE is a blessed proportion. The Ruler of Providence bears a pair of scales — in this side He puts His people’s trials, and in that He puts their consolations. When the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of consolation in nearly the same condition; and when the scale of trials is full, you will find the scale of consolation just as heavy. When the black clouds gather most, the light is the more brightly revealed to us. When the night lowers and the tempest is coming on, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to His crew. It is a blessed thing, that when we are most cast down, then it is that we are most lifted up by the consolations of the Spirit. One reason is, because trials make more room for consolation. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart — He finds it full — He begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man lies, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this — then we have the closest dealings with God. When the barn is full, man can live without God: when the purse is bursting with gold, we try to do without so much prayer. But once take our gourds away, and we want our God; once cleanse the idols out of the house, then we are compelled to honour Jehovah. “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord.” There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, fret not over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies.

But the penultimate paragraph of the novel is naturally the passage I wrote first. “When we held Owen Meany above our heads, when we passed him back and forth—so effortlessly—we believed that Owen weighed nothing at all. We did not realize that there were forces beyond our play. Now I know they were the forces that contributed to our illusion of Owen’s weightlessness; they were the forces we didn’t have the faith to feel, they were the forces we failed to believe in—and they were also lifting up Owen Meany, taking him out of our hands.” I added the last paragraph, only two sentences long, a day later. “O God—please give him back! I shall keep asking You.” I didn’t arrive at the first sentence (“I am doomed to

There is another inward kind of prayer without ceasing, which is the desire of the heart. Whatever else you are doing, if you do but long for that Sabbath, you do not cease to pray. If you would never cease to pray, never cease to long after it. The continuance of thy longing is the continuance of thy prayer. You will be ceasing to speak, if you cease to long for it. Who are those who have ceased to speak? They of whom it is said, "Because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold." [983] The freezing of charity is the silence of the heart; the burning of charity is the cry of the heart. If love continues still you are still lifting up your voice; if you are always lifting up your voice, you are always longing after something; if always longing for something absent, you are calling "the Sabbath rest to remembrance.

Alas, great is my sorrow. Your name is Ah Chen, and when you were born I was not truly pleased. I am a farmer, and a farmer needs strong sons to help with his work, but before a year had passed you had stolen my heart. You grew more teeth, and you grew daily in wisdom, and you said 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' and your pronunciation was perfect. When you were three you would knock at the door and then you would run back and ask, 'Who is it?' When you were four your uncle came to visit and you played the host. Lifting your cup, you said, 'Ching!' and we roared with laughter and you blushed and covered your face with your hands, but I know that you thought yourself very clever. Now they tell me that I must try to forget you, but it is hard to forget you. "You carried a toy basket. You sat at a low stool to eat porridge. You repeated the Great Learning and bowed to Buddha. You played at guessing games, and romped around the house. You were very brave, and when you fell and cut your knee you did not cry because you did not think it was right. When you picked up fruit or rice, you always looked at people's faces to see if it was all right before putting it in your mouth, and you were careful not to tear your clothes. "Ah Chen, do you remember how worried we were when the flood broke our dikes and the sickness killed our pigs? Then the Duke of Ch'in raised our taxes and I was sent to plead with him, and I made him believe that we could not pay out taxes. Peasants who cannot pay taxes are useless to dukes, so he sent his soldiers to destroy our village, and thus it was the foolishness of your father that led to your death. Now you have gone to Hell to be judged, and I know that you must be very frightened, but you must try not to cry or make loud noises because it is not like being at home with your own people. "Ah Chen, do you remember Auntie Yang, the midwife? She was also killed, and she was very fond of you. She had no little girls of her own, so it is alright for you to try and find her, and to offer her your hand and ask her to take care of you. When you come before the Yama Kings, you should clasp your hands together and plead to them: 'I am young and I am innocent. I was born in a poor family, and I was content with scanty meals. I was never wilfully careless of my shoes and my clothing, and I never wasted a grain of rice. If evil spirits bully me, may thou protect me.' You should put it just that way, and I am sure that the Yama Kings will protect you. "Ah Chen, I have soup for you and I will burn paper money for you to use, and the priest is writing down this prayer that I will send to you. If you hear my prayer, will you come to see me in your dreams? If fate so wills that you must yet lead an earthly life, I pray that you will come again to your mother's womb. Meanwhile I will cry, 'Ah Chen, your father is here!' I can but weep for you, and call your name.

The Lord’s Prayer Expanded Our Father, Holy Father, Abba Father, in the heavens, Hallowed, holy, sacred be your name. From the rising of the sun, to the going down of the same, The name of the Lord is to be praised. Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts, The whole earth is full of your glory. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty, Who was and is and is to come. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Thy government come, thy politics be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Thy reign and rule come, thy plans and purposes be done, On earth as it is in heaven. May we be an anticipation of the age to come. May we embody the reign of Christ here and now. Give us day by day our daily bread. Provide for the poor among us. As we seek first your kingdom and your justice, May all we need be provided for us. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. Transform us by the Holy Spirit into a forgiving community of forgiven sinners. Lead us not into trouble, trial, tribulation or temptation. Be mindful of our frame, we are but dust, We can only take so much. Lead us out of the wilderness into the promised land that flows with milk and honey, Lead us out of the badlands into resurrection country. Deliver us from evil and the evil one. Save us from Satan, the accuser and adversary. So that no weapon formed against us shall prosper. So that every tongue that rises against us in accusation you will condemn. So that every fiery dart of the wicked one is extinguished by the shield of faith. So that as we submit to you and resist the devil, the devil flees. So that as we draw near to Jesus Christ lifted up, His cross becomes for us the axis of love expressed in forgiveness, That refounds the world; And the devil, who became the false ruler of the fallen world, Is driven out from among us. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever. Amen

he had seen his share of heroes, too. Major Rawls never knew everything that Owen had known; the major knew only that Owen had been a hero—he didn’t know that Owen Meany had been a miracle, too. There’s a prayer I say most often for Owen. It’s one of the little prayers he said for my mother, the night Hester and I found him in the cemetery—where he’d brought the flashlight, because he knew how my mother had hated the darkness. “‘INTO PARADISE MAY THE ANGELS LEAD YOU,’” he’d said over my mother’s grave; and so I say that one for him—I know it was one of his favorites. I am always saying prayers for Owen Meany. And I often try to imagine how I might have answered Mary Beth Baird, when she spoke to me—at Owen’s burial. If I could have spoken, if I hadn’t lost my voice—what would I have said to her, how could I have answered her? Poor Mary Beth Baird! I left her standing in the cemetery without an answer. “Do you remember how we used to lift him up?” she’d asked me. “He was so easy to lift up!” Mary Beth Baird had said to me. “He was so light—he weighed

FEBRUARY 23 THE POWER IN MY HANDS WILL BE RELEASED IN YOUR LIFE I WILL RELEASE My power and might against the enemy by My right hand. I will show you the path of life. In My presence is fullness of joy, and at My right hand are pleasures forevermore. Do not be afraid, but follow close behind Me, for My right hand upholds you. My glory covers the heavens and My praise has filled the earth. Like the sunrise, rays flash from My hands where My power is hidden. I have shown My people the power of My works. The works of My hands are faithful and just, and all My precepts are trustworthy. They are established forever and ever and enacted in faithfulness and uprightness. 1 CHRONICLES 29:11–12; PSALMS 16:11; 111:6–8 Prayer Declaration Lord, let the power in Your hands be released in my life. Your mighty works are performed by Your hands. You laid Your hands on the sick, and they recovered. You lifted up Your hands and blessed Your people. With Your hands You have given me the power and authority to defeat my enemies. I am delivered from the power of Satan unto You, O Lord, and I am strong in Your power and might.

Nick tugged her head back, his tormented gaze raking over her face. His trembling fingertips traced the line of her cheek and jaw. “My God. Lottie…” As his panicked exploration continued, he discovered the bruises on her throat, and he uttered a cry of fury. “Holy hell! Your neck. He dared to… I’m going to slaughter that bastard—” Lottie placed her fingers over his mouth. “I’m all right,” she said gently. Feeling the way his large body shook, she drew her hand over his chest in a calming stroke. After the traumatic events of the past hours, it was so wonderful to be with him that her lips curved in a wobbly smile. She gazed into his dusty, sweat-streaked face with concern. “In fact, I believe I may be in better condition than you, my darling.” A primitive groan came from his throat, and he clutched her with his right arm, bending over her hungrily. “I love you,” he said in a low, shaken voice. “I love you so much, Lottie.” His lips covered hers in a fiercely ardent kiss. Clearly he was too unsettled to recall that there were others in the room. Lottie turned her face away with a muffled laugh. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Not here, darling. Later, with more privacy, we can—” She was silenced as Nick seized her mouth once more. Suddenly she found herself pushed up against the wall by six feet of aroused, overwrought male. Realizing that there was no hope of subduing him, Lottie stroked his broad back in an effort to soothe him. He possessed her with deep, fervent kisses, while his lungs worked so violently that she could feel his rib cage expanding with each breath. She tried to comfort him, gently rubbing the back of his neck as his mouth worked roughly over hers. His breath came in ragged shivers, and in between kisses he breathed her name as if it were a prayer. “Lottie… Lottie…” Each time she tried to answer, he dove for her mouth again. “Sydney,” Sir Grant said after some prolonged throat-clearing had failed to capture his attention. “Ahem. Sydney…” After a long time, Nick finally lifted his head. Lottie pushed at his chest, making him loosen his grip on her. Red-faced and breathless, she saw that Sayer had developed a keenly absorbing interest in the weather outside the window, while Daniel had excused himself to wait outside.

My husband and I have been a part of the same small group for the past five years.... Like many small groups, we regularly share a meal together, love one another practically, and serve together to meet needs outside our small group. We worship, study God’s Word, and pray. It has been a rich time to grow in our understanding of God, what Jesus has accomplished for us, God’s purposes for us as a part of his kingdom, his power and desire to change us, and many other precious truths. We have grown in our love for God and others, and have been challenged to repent of our sin and trust God in every area of our lives. It was a new and refreshing experience for us to be in a group where people were willing to share their struggles with temptation and sin and ask for prayer....We have been welcomed by others, challenged to become more vulnerable, held up in prayer, encouraged in specific ongoing struggles, and have developed sweet friendships. I have seen one woman who had one foot in the world and one foot in the church openly share her struggles with us. We prayed that God would show her the way of escape from temptation many times and have seen God’s work in delivering her. Her openness has given us a front row seat to see the power of God intersect with her weakness. Her continued vulnerability and growth in godliness encourage us to be humble with one another, and to believe that God is able to change us too. Because years have now passed in close community, God’s work can be seen more clearly than on a week-by-week basis. One man who had some deep struggles and a lot of anger has grown through repenting of sin and being vulnerable one on one and in the group. He has been willing to hear the encouragement and challenges of others, and to stay in community throughout his struggle.... He has become an example in serving others, a better listener, and more gentle with his wife. As a group, we have confronted anxiety, interpersonal strife, the need to forgive, lust, family troubles, unbelief, the fear of man, hypocrisy, unemployment, sickness, lack of love, idolatry, and marital strife. We have been helped, held accountable, and lifted up by one another. We have also grieved together, celebrated together, laughed together, offended one another, reconciled with one another, put up with one another,...and sought to love God and one another. As a group we were saddened in the spring when a man who had recently joined us felt that we let him down by not being sensitive to his loneliness. He chose to leave. I say this because, with all the benefits of being in a small group, it is still just a group of sinners. It is Jesus who makes it worth getting together. Apart from our relationship with him...,we have nothing to offer. But because our focus is on Jesus, the group has the potential to make a significant and life-changing difference in all our lives. ...When 7 o’clock on Monday night comes around, I eagerly look forward to the sound of my brothers and sisters coming in our front door. I never know how the evening will go, what burdens people will be carrying, how I will be challenged, or what laughter or tears we will share. But I always know that the great Shepherd will meet us and that our lives will be richer and fuller because we have been together. ...I hope that by hearing my story you will be encouraged to make a commitment to become a part of a small group and experience the blessing of Christian community within the smaller, more intimate setting that it makes possible. 6

A monk lived near the temple of Shiva. In the house opposite lived a prostitute. Noticing the large number of men who visited her, the monk decided to speak to her. ‘You are a great sinner,’ he said sternly. ‘You reveal your lack of respect for God every day and every night. Do you never stop to think about what will happen to you after your death?’ The poor woman was very shaken by what the monk said. She prayed to God out of genuine repentance, begging His forgiveness. She also asked the Almighty to help her to find another means of earning her living. But she could find no other work and, after going hungry for a week, she returned to prostitution. But each time she gave her body to a stranger, she would pray to the Lord for forgiveness. Annoyed that his advice had had no effect, the monk thought to himself: ‘From now on, I’m going to keep a count of the number of men who go into that house, until the day the sinner dies.’ And from that moment on, he did nothing but watch the comings and goings at the prostitute’s house, and for each man who went in, he added a stone to a pile of stones by his side. After some time, the monk again spoke to the prostitute and said: ‘You see that pile of stones? Each stone represents a mortal sin committed by you, despite all my warnings. I say to you once more: do not sin again!’ Seeing how her sins accumulated, the woman began to tremble. Returning home, she wept tears of real repentance and prayed to God: ‘O Lord, when will Your mercy free me from this wretched life?’ Her prayer was heard. That same day, the angel of death came to her house and carried her off. On God’s orders, the angel crossed the street and took the monk with him too. The prostitute’s soul went straight up to Heaven, while the devils bore the monk down into Hell. They passed each other on the way, and when the monk saw what was happening, he cried out: ‘Is this Your justice, O Lord? I spent my whole life in devotion and poverty and now I am carried off into Hell, while that prostitute, who lived all her life steeped in sin, is borne aloft up to Heaven!’ Hearing this, one of the angels replied: Angels are always just. You thought that God’s love meant judging the behaviour of your neighbour. While you filled your heart with the impurity of another’s sin, this woman prayed fervently day and night. Her soul is so light after all the tears she has shed that we can easily bear her up to Paradise. Your soul is so weighed down with stones it is too heavy to lift.

A woman pushed her way through the swarm of people. “She’s the daughter of Matthias, head scribe to Herod Antipas, and known to be a fornicator.” I called out again in protest, but my denial was swallowed by the black odium that boiled out of their hearts. “Show us your pocket!” a man yelled. One by one, they took up the petition. Gripping my forearm, Chuza let their shouts grow fevered before he reached for my sleeve. I writhed and kicked. I was a fluttering moth, a hapless girl. My skirmish yielded nothing but jeers and laughter. He snatched the sheet of ivory from my coat and lifted it over his head. A roar erupted. “She is a thief, a blasphemer, and a fornicator!” Chuza cried. “What would you do with her?” “Stone her!” someone cried. The chant began, the dark prayer. Stone her. Stone her. I shut my eyes against the dazzling blur of anger. Their hearts are boulders and their heads are straw. They seemed to be not a multitude of persons, but a single creature, a behemoth feeding off their combined fury. They would stone me for all the wrongs ever done to them. They would stone me for God. Most often victims were dragged to a cliff outside the city and thrown off before being pelted, which lessened the laborious effort of having to throw so many stones—it was in some way more merciful, at least quicker—but I saw I would not be accorded that lenience. Men and women and children plucked stones from the ground. These stones, God’s most bountiful gift to Galilee. Some rushed into the building site, where the stones were larger and more deadly. I heard the sizzle of a rock fly over my head and fall behind me. Then the commotion and noise slowed, elongating, receding to some distant pinnacle, and in that strange slackening of time, I no longer cared to fight. I felt myself bending to my fate. I ached for the life I would never live, but I yearned even more to escape it. I sank onto the ground, making myself as small as I could, my arms and legs tucked beneath my chest and belly, my forehead pressed to the ground. I fashioned myself into a walnut shell. I would be broken apart and God could have the meat. A stone struck my hip in a sunburst of pain. Another fell beside my ear. I heard the stomp of sandals running toward me, then a voice glittering with indignation. “Cease your violence! Would you stone her on the word of this man?” The mob quieted, and I dared to raise my head. Jesus stood before them, his back to me. I stared at the bones in his shoulders. The way his hands were drawn into fists. How he’d planted himself between me and the stones.

For example, the idea that Owen Meany is God’s instrument, or that he believes he is—and so does the narrator—is specifically connected not only to Owen’s diminutive size but to the illusion of his weightlessness. That image of how the children can lift Owen over their heads in Sunday school—how he is light enough so they can easily pass him back and forth when the teacher is out of the room—is not only as near to the beginning of the novel as I could find a place for it; that image is echoed at the end of the novel, where Owen’s seeming weightlessness is interpreted to mean that he was always in God’s hands. But the penultimate paragraph of the novel is naturally the passage I wrote first. “When we held Owen Meany above our heads, when we passed him back and forth—so effortlessly—we believed that Owen weighed nothing at all. We did not realize that there were forces beyond our play. Now I know they were the forces that contributed to our illusion of Owen’s weightlessness; they were the forces we didn’t have the faith to feel, they were the forces we failed to believe in—and they were also lifting up Owen Meany, taking him out of our hands.” I added the last paragraph, only two sentences long, a day later. “O God—please give him back! I shall keep asking You.” I didn’t arrive at the first sentence (“I am doomed to remember . . .”) until a year or eighteen months after that.

23 When He Carries a Heavy Burden Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. GALATIANS 6:2 SOCIETY PUTS A LOT OF WEIGHT on a man’s shoulders. It is his burden to earn the finances to support his family. He is expected to do well at his work and on his job. There are so many expectations of him in that regard that he feels the pressure of it constantly. That’s why you read about so many men committing suicide when they are in serious financial trouble. The burden is too great. Few women commit suicide for financial failure. If you or I fell into financial ruin, we would just sell everything, pay off all the debts we could, get a job, and start over. Men can feel the burden of failure in life-threatening ways. That’s why your husband needs your prayers to keep his burdens lifted. One of the best ways to bear your husband’s burden is to pray for him about whatever heavy load he is carrying. Every time you do, pray especially for what burdens him the most. One of the most effective things you can do is let him know you are praying for him and ask him to tell you what his burdens are. He may reveal something you didn’t even know was bothering him. God’s Word says that sometimes our burden comes from the oppressor. The children of Israel had an oppressor, and they were overtaken by this oppressor because of their own disobedience. But God promised that the burden the oppressor put on them would eventually be broken by the power of His Spirit. “It shall come to pass in that day that his burden will be taken away from your shoulder, and his yoke from your neck, and the yoke will be destroyed because of the anointing oil” (Isaiah 10:27). The anointing oil refers to a work of the Holy Spirit. Your prayers can invite the Holy Spirit to break any burden of the oppressor off of your husband’s shoulders. You will be fulfilling the “law of Christ” every time you pray like that, not to mention how it will secure your husband’s devotion. My Prayer to God LORD, I pray my husband will be able to fully release his burdens to You. I know that when we cast our burdens on You, You will sustain us and not allow us to be shaken (Psalm 55:22 NASB). Help me to bear his burdens in prayer and in any other way You reveal to me. Show me what his greatest burden is and what I can do to lighten it. I ask that You would relieve him of his heavy load by Your presence in his life. Enable him to understand that when he yokes up with You, You will carry the burden for him. I pray that when he is oppressed by the enemy, whatever prayer or supplication is made by him—when he acknowledges his own burdens before You and turns to You for help—that You will hear him (2 Chronicles 6:29-30). I also pray that as You take his burden from him, he will know it’s You doing the heavy lifting. In Jesus’ name I pray.

I Pray For This Girl Oh yes! For the young girl Who just landed on Mother Earth! The one about to turn five with a smile Or the other one who just turned nine She is not only mine My Mother’s, Grandmother’s Neighbour’s or friend’s daughter She is like a flower Very fragile, yet so gorgeous An Angel whose wings are invisible I speak life to this young or older girl She might not have a say But expects the world to be a better place Whether affluent or impoverished No matter her state of mind Her background must not determine How she is treated She needs to live, she has to thrive! Lord God Almighty Sanctify her unique journey Save her from the claws of the enemy Shield her against any brutality Restore her if pain becomes a reality Embrace her should joy pass swiftly When emptiness fills her heart severely May you be her sanctuary! Dear Father, please give her The honour to grow without being frightened Hope whenever she feels forsaken Contentment even after her heart was broken Comfort when she is shaken Courage when malice creeps in Calm when she needs peace Strength when she is weak Freedom to climb on a mountain peak And wisdom to tackle any season Guide her steps, keep her from tumbling My Lord, if she does sometimes stumble Lift her up, so she can rise and ramble Grant her power to tactfully triumph On my knees, I plead meekly for this girl I may have never met her I may not know her name I may not be in her shoes I may not see her cries Yet, I grasp her plight Wherever she is King of Kings Be with her Each and every day I pray for this girl

I Pray For This Girl Oh yes! For the young girl Who just landed on Mother Earth! The one about to turn five with a smile Or the other one who just turned nine She is not only mine My Mother’s, Grandmother’s Neighbour’s or friend’s daughter She is like a flower Very fragile, yet so gorgeous An Angel whose wings are invisible I speak life to this young or older girl She might not have a say But expects the world to be a better place Whether affluent or impoverished No matter her state of mind Her background must not determine How she is treated Like others, she needs to live Indeed, she has to thrive! Lord God Almighty Sanctify her unique journey Save her from the claws of the enemy Shield her against any brutality Restore her if pain becomes a reality Embrace her should joy pass swiftly When emptiness fills her heart severely May you be her sanctuary! Dear Father, please give her The honour to grow without being frightened Hope whenever she feels forsaken Contentment even after her heart was broken Comfort when she is shaken Courage when malice creeps in Calm when she needs peace Strength when she is weak Freedom to climb on a mountain peak And wisdom to tackle any season Guide her steps, keep her from tumbling My Lord, if she does sometimes stumble Lift her up, so she can rise and ramble Grant her power to wisely triumph On my knees, I plead meekly for this girl I may have never met her I may not know her name I may not be in her shoes I may not see her cries Yet, I grasp her plight Wherever she is King of Kings Be with her Each and every day I pray for this girl

WHERE ARE WE NOW? Where are we now, O people of light? We who once led the world to what is right. We taught the world the power of prayer, Now we are lost, confused, and scared. Once our minds reached stars so high, Now we just watch and wonder why. Once our hearts were strong with faith, Now they are weak, full of hate. We were the people of knowledge and art, Of pure belief and fearless heart. But now we sleep while others rise, We close our books, we shut our eyes. Our mosques are full, but hearts are cold, Our stories of glory are old and told. We talk of Islam, but live in show, Tell me, my brother ,where did we go? Where is the courage of Salah’s hand? Where is the wisdom that built this land? Where are the poets who spoke of flame, Where are the souls that feared no blame? We blame the world, we blame the West, But we forgot we failed our test. We lost our vision, our faith, our art, We let the fire fade from heart. Rise again, O Muslim soul! Find your strength, regain your role! Hold the Qur’an and knowledge near, And walk with faith, without fear. The world still waits for us to be, The voice of peace, of unity. The torch of truth in the darkest night, The builders of love, the bringers of light. The world still waits for us to show, That Islam means to learn, to grow. To build the earth with wisdom’s hand, To heal the hearts, to guide the land. The world still waits for us to rise, To open hearts and open eyes. To break the chains of hate and greed, And plant again the Prophet’s seed. O people of faith, wake up, stand tall, You were made to lift, not fall. Return to Allah, return to His way, And lead the lost world once again someday.

_qt ~~ L,4_-k,,d_e, V q99- You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb ...I am fearfully and wonderfully made. -PSALM 139:13-14 IfI could only have a straight nose, a tummy tuck, blonde hair, larger (or smaller) breasts, or be more like so-and-so, I would be okay as a person. Never have I heard women satisfied with how God made them. "God must have made a mistake when He made me." "I'm certainly the exception to His model creation." "There's so much wrong with me, I'm just paralyzed over who I am." These negative thoughts poison our system. We can't be lifted up when we spend so much time tearing ourselves down. When we are in a negative mode, we can always find verification for what we're looking for. If we concentrate on the negative, we lose sight of all the positive aspects of our lives. We can always justify our damaging assumptions when we overlook the good God has for us. These critical vibes create more negative vibes. Soon we are in a downward spiral. When you concentrate on your imperfections you have a tendency to look at what's wrong and not what's right. Putting yourself down can have some severe personal consequences. Have you ever realized that God made you uniquely different from everyone else? (Even ifyou're a twin you are different.) Yes, it is important to work on improving your imperfections-but don't dwell on them so much that you forget who you are in the sight of God. The more positive you are toward yourself the more you will grow into the person God had in mind for you when you were created. Go easy on yourself. None of us will ever be perfect. The only way we will improve our self-image is by being positive and acknowledging that we are God's creation. Negativity tears down; positivity builds up. PRAYER Father God, You knew me while I was in my mother's womb. I hunger to be the woman You created me to be. Help me become all that You had in mind when You

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” —Mark 1:35 2. Have an honest heart. “Call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”—Jeremiah 29:12-13 3. Open your Bible. “The word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” —Hebrews 4:12 4. Have a genuine friend. “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”—Hebrews 10:24-25 God has not meant for our lives to be empty. His plan is for us to live full and abundant lives (see John 10:10). As Rick Warren explains in his book The Purpose-Driven Life, “The purpose of your life is far greater than your own personal fulfillment, your peace of mind, or even your happiness. It’s far greater than your family, your career, or even your wildest dreams and ambitions. If you want to know why you were placed on this planet, you must begin with God. You were born by his purpose and for his purpose.”8 God did not make you to be empty. Walk with and in the purpose He has planned for you. Prayer: Father God, lift me out of a life of emptiness. You didn’t make me to be there, and that’s not where I will remain. With Your Spirit and power I will rise above this phase of emptiness and live an abundant life. Thank You for giving me a gentle whisper. Amen.   Action: If you find yourself in an empty stage of life, put into action this week the four steps that are given.   Today’s Wisdom: Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. —JEREMIAH 17:7-8

merciful and kind, forgiving and gentle. If anything, He wants a relationship with me and so He would not ignore me. “For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer” (1 Peter 3:12).   c) He heard my prayer and answered, Yes later   I know that God hears my prayers. I know by His very nature He would not ignore my prayers. (2 Chronicles 7 NIV) So He may be saying, Yes later. God knows the past, the present and the future. He lives in eternity. He knows what is best for me and when. His timing is perfect and I must learn to accept this. I must lift my prayer to Him and then settle back knowing that He is in full control.   It’s just a matter of patience. “We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised” (Hebrews 6:12). Like the time I had to wait for my house to sell. I knew God heard my prayer to sell. I knew He was not ignoring me. I just had to wait in His perfect timing. And lo and behold, it was perfect as it allowed us time to find the home in which to settle.   But what if God’s answer is No?   d) He heard my prayer and answered, No   This has been my experience in the past. I prayed for a specific outcome, yet when the decision was made, my request was denied. I felt crushed and betrayed. Little did I know at the time that God had a much better plan. God is not a malicious, vengeful God. No, He is loving and kind. “The LORD is faithful to all His promises and loving toward all He has made” (Psalm 145:13).   What ended up happening in that situation was a very different, much better outcome. Something that had not entered my mind. I had limited my prayer to my own finite wisdom and understanding of the situation at that moment in time. God has infinite wisdom. He knows the hearts of people. And although He said No to my prayer, it was only because He had something better in mind.   I am reminded that there are many ways God enriches our lives through trials and suffering; things we could not have learned without going through those troubles.   My prayer for my daughter’s health has been heard. I can rest in the knowledge that God is not ignoring my pleas. I also find peace knowing that God will answer my prayer within His perfect timing, and if He has a better way or more favorable outcome, He will respond accordingly. I can relax knowing that I have laid my prayer at His feet; I can rest knowing that He loves me and is taking care of me.       Prayer is communing with God. ~ Emma Tcheau

The four women came to see them at the house later in the afternoon. Alexander and Tatiana were playing soccer. Actually Tatiana had just gotten the ball away from him and, squealing, was trying to hold on to it, while he was behind her, trying to kick it from under her. He had lifted her off the ground and was pressing himself hard into her while she was shrieking. All he was wearing was his skivvies, and all she was wearing was his ribbed top and her underwear. Flummoxed, Tatiana stood in front of Alexander, trying to shield his near-naked body from four pairs of wide eyes. He stood behind her, his arms on her shoulders, and Tatiana heard him say, “Tell them—No, forget it, I will,” and before she could utter a sound, he came forward, walked up to them, twice their size, bare and unrelentingly himself, and said, “Ladies, in the future you might want to wait for us to come and see you.” “Shura,” Tatiana muttered, “go and get dressed.” “Soccer is probably the least of what you’ll see,” Alexander said into the women’s stunned faces before going inside the house. When he came back out, suitably covered, he told Tatiana he was going to the village to get a couple of things they needed, like ice and an ax. “What an odd combination,” she remarked. “Where are you going to get ice from?” “The fish plant. They have to refrigerate their fish, don’t they?” “Ax?” “From that nice man Igor,” Alexander yelled, walking up the clearing, blowing her a kiss. She gazed after him. “Hurry back,” she called. Naira Mikhailovna apologized hastily. Dusia was mouthing a prayer. Raisa shook. Axinya beamed at Tatiana, who invited them all for a bit of kvas. “Come inside. See how nicely Alexander cleaned the house. And look, he repaired the door. Remember, the top hinge was broken?” The four women looked around for a place to sit. “Tanechka,” said Naira nervously, “there is no furniture in here.” Axinya whooped. Dusia crossed herself. “I know, Naira Mikhailovna. We don’t need much.” She looked down on the floor. “We have some things, we have my trunk. Alexander said he will make us a bench. I’ll bring my desk with the sewing machine…we’ll be fine.” “But how—” “Oh, Naira,” said Axinya, “leave the girl alone, will you?” Dusia glared at the rumpled bedsheets on top of the stove. A flustered Tatiana smiled. Alexander was right. It was better to go and visit them. She asked when would be a good time to come for dinner. Naira said, “Come tonight, of course. We’ll celebrate. But you come every night. Look, you won’t be able to eat here at all. There’s nowhere even to sit or cook. You’ll starve. Come every night. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

When I Need to Be Delivered from Bad Habits For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do…But now, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me. ROMANS 7:15,17 AT ONE TIME OR ANOTHER in our lives, we women struggle with some kind of habit or behavior we don’t like, don’t want, and don’t know how to overcome. We usually know when we are doing something that is not good for our body, health, finances, or marriage, because after we do it we feel guilty to the point of self-flagellating regret. We beat ourselves up all day long about it. In the verses above, Paul describes our situation when we don’t do the things we know we should, and we do the things we know we shouldn’t. It happens when sin gets control over us, or our flesh cries loudly for what it wants, or the enemy takes advantage of our weakness and we don’t resist him. If we attempt to handle this on our own without God’s help, even if we do well for a time, we may eventually fall back into the same bad habit. Paul, however, gives us reason to hope, because a few verses later he asks, “Who will deliver me from this?” And he answers his own question saying, “Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 7:24-25). Jesus can set us free from all that is destructive in our lives, including our tendency toward any bad habits. The best news is that even though our own strength fails, the power of the Holy Spirit in us never fails. Ask God to set you free from any bad habit or craving that you know is not God’s will for your life. Thank Him that because of Jesus, you don’t have to give in to the dictates of your own flesh. Jesus has not only set you free, He can also help you walk in the freedom He has given you. My Prayer to God LORD, I pray You would expose any bad habits I have to Your light. Burn them out of my life. For the habit I struggle with most that I would like to see broken, help me to gain control over it so it cannot control me anymore. Show me how to rise up in the power of Your Spirit and resist this weakness head on. Take away whatever is in me that draws me to do anything that is not Your best for my life. Fill what is missing in me with more of You so that I stop trying to fill any empty place in my life with something that turns into an undesirable habit. Destroy the conflict in me that causes me to do what I don’t want to do and not do what I do want to do. Enable me to be strong and not give in to weakness. I release to You all my desires and needs, and recognize that my true need will always be for more of You. Thank You, Jesus, for setting me free from captivity to sin and delivering me from all that is not good for me, and therefore not good for my husband and children. Protect me from anything that would drive me back into old habits that only destroy my peace, health, security, and future. Lift me above my weaknesses so that Your strength will be clearly manifested in me. In Jesus’ name I pray.

Naturally, without intending to, I transitioned from these dreams in which I healed myself to some in which I cared for others: I am flying over the Champs-Élysées Avenue in Paris. Below me, thousands of people are marching, demanding world peace. They carry a cardboard dove a kilometer long with its wings and chest stained with blood. I begin to circle around them to get their attention. The people, astonished, point up at me, seeing me levitate. Then I ask them to join hands and form a chain so that they can fly with me. I gently take one hand and lift. The others, still holding hands, also rise up. I fly through the air, drawing beautiful figures with this human chain. The cardboard dove follows us. Its bloodstains have vanished. I wake up with the feeling of peace and joy that comes from good dreams. Three days later, while walking with my children along the Champs-Élysées Avenue, I saw an elderly gentleman under the trees near the obelisk whose entire body was covered by sparrows. He was sitting completely still on one of the metal benches put there by the city council with his hand outstretched, holding out a piece of cake. There were birds flitting around tearing off crumbs while others waited their turn, lovingly perched on his head, his shoulders, his legs. There were hundreds of birds. I was surprised to see tourists passing by without paying much attention to what I considered a miracle. Unable to contain my curiosity, I approached the old man. As soon as I got within a couple of meters of him, all the sparrows flew away to take refuge in the tree branches. “Excuse me,” I said, “how does this happen?” The gentleman answered me amiably. “I come here every year at this time of the season. The birds know me. They pass on the memory of my person through their generations. I make the cake that I offer. I know what they like and what ingredients to use. The arm and hand must be still and the wrist tilted so that they can clearly see the food. And then, when they come, stop thinking and love them very much. Would you like to try?” I asked my children to sit and wait on a nearby bench. I took the piece of cake, reached my hand out, and stood still. No sparrow dared approach. The kind old man stood beside me and took my hand. Immediately, some of the birds came and landed on my head, shoulders, and arm, while others pecked at the treat. The gentleman let go of me. Immediately the birds fled. He took my hand and asked me to take my son’s hand, and he another hand, so that my children formed a chain. We did. The birds returned and perched fearlessly on our bodies. Every time the old man let go of us, the sparrows fled. I realized that for the birds when their benefactor, full of goodness, took us by the hand, we became part of him. When he let go of us, we went back to being ourselves, frightening humans. I did not want to disrupt the work of this saintly man any longer. I offered him money. He absolutely would not accept. I never saw him again. Thanks to him, I understood certain passages of the Gospels: Jesus blesses children without uttering any prayer, just by putting his hands on them (Matthew 19:13–15). In Mark 16:18, the Messiah commands his apostles, “They shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.” St. John the Apostle says mysteriously in his first epistle, 1.1, “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life.

I, Prayer (A Poem of Magnitudes and Vectors) I, Prayer, know no hour. No season, no day, no month nor year. No boundary, no barrier or limitation–no blockade hinders Me. There is no border or wall I cannot breach. I move inexorably forward; distance holds Me not. I span the cosmos in the twinkling of an eye. I knowest it all. I am the most powerful force in the Universe. Who then is My equal? Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook? None is so fierce that dare stir him up. Surely, I may’st with but a Word. Who then is able to stand before Me? I am the wind, the earth, the metal. I am the very empyrean vault of Heaven Herself. I span the known and the unknown beyond Eternity’s farthest of edges. And whatsoever under Her wings is Mine. I am a gentle stream, a fiery wrath penetrating; wearing down mountains –the hardest and softest of substances. I am a trickling brook to fools of want lost in the deserts of their own desires. I am a Niagara to those who drink in well. I seep through cracks. I inundate. I level forests kindleth unto a single burning bush. My hand moves the Universe by the mind of a child. I withhold treasures solid from the secret stores to they who would wrench at nothing. I do not sleep or eat, feel not fatigue, nor hunger. I do not feel the cold, nor rain or wind. I transcend the heat of the summer’s day. I commune. I petition. I intercede. My time is impeccable, by it worlds and destinies turn. I direct the fates of nations and humankind. My Words are Iron eternaled—rust not they away. No castle keep, nor towers of beaten brass, Nor the dankest of dungeon helks, Nor adamantine links of hand-wrought steel Can contain My Spirit–I shan’t turn back. The race is ne’er to the swift, nor battle to the strong, nor wisdom to the wise or wealth to the rich. For skills and wisdom, I give to the sons of man. I take wisdom and skills from the sons of man for they are ever Mine. Blessed is the one who finds it so, for in humility comes honor, For those who have fallen on the battlefield for My Name’s sake, I reach down to lift them up from On High. I am a rose with the thorn. I am the clawing Lion that pads her children. My kisses wound those whom I Love. My kisses are faithful. No occasion, moment in time, instances, epochs, ages or eras hold Me back. Time–past, present and future is to Me irrelevant. I span the millennia. I am the ever-present Now. My foolishness is wiser than man’s My weakness stronger than man’s. I am subtle to the point of formlessness yet formed. I have no discernible shape, no place into which the enemy may sink their claws. I AM wisdom and in length of days knowledge. Strength is Mine and counsel, and understanding. I break. I build. By Me, kings rise and fall. The weak are given strength; wisdom to those who seek and foolishness to both fooler and fool alike. I lead the crafty through their deceit. I set straight paths for those who will walk them. I am He who gives speech and sight - and confounds and removes them. When I cut, straight and true is my cut. I strike without fault. I am the razored edge of high destiny. I have no enemy, nor friend. My Zeal and Love and Mercy will not relent to track you down until you are spent– even unto the uttermost parts of the earth. I cull the proud and the weak out of the common herd. I hunt them in battles royale until their cries unto Heaven are heard. I break hearts–those whose are harder than granite. Beyond their atomic cores, I strike their atomic clock. Elect motions; not one more or less electron beyond electron’s orbit that has been ordained for you do I give–for His grace is sufficient for thee until He desires enough. Then I, Prayer, move on as a comet, Striking out of the black. I, His sword, kills to give Life. I am Living and Active, the Divider asunder of thoughts and intents. I Am the Light of Eternal Mind. And I, Prayer, AM Prayer Almighty.

Each person's every joint must perform a charity every day the sun comes up: to act justly between two people is a charity; to help a man with his mount, lifting him onto it or hoisting up his belongings onto it is a charity: a good word is a charity, every step you take to prayers is a charity and removing a harmful thing from the road is a charity.

as a burden carrier is twofold. Show up ready to walk alongside the one who grieves and commit to lifting that person up to the Lord in prayer.

Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself: Mercifully grant that we who glory in the mystery of our redemption may have the grace to take up our cross and follow him; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

Christ is stronger, Christ has conquered, and Christ will conquer. But wait on God. My text casts us down: “The things which are impossible with men”; but it ultimately lifts us up high—“are possible with God.” Get linked to God. Adore and trust Him as the omnipotent One, not only for your own life, but for all the souls that are entrusted to you. Never pray without adoring His omnipotence, saying: “Mighty God, I claim Thine almightiness.” And the answer to the prayer will come, and like Abraham you will become strong in faith, giving glory to God, because you account Him who hath promised able to perform.

Lead me to the promised land. Guide my feet, take my hand. Pick me up if I should fall. Give me peace, no fear at all. Lift me high above the tide. Keep me far from silly pride. Anchor me in faith and grace. Give me strength to run this race. Wash my heart and make it clean. Walk me through the pastures green. Calm the storms that come my way. Answer prayers when them I pray. Lord, I love You. Always will. Words can't say just how I feel. So I'll end with one more line. Forever, Lord, I am Thine.

What is Divinity (The Sonnet) Hands joined in prayer ain't no divinity, Hands stretched in help are true divinity. Saying grace before meal ain't divinity, Graceful kindness is the actual divinity. Marking a cross on yourself ain't divinity, Crossing out the self for others is real divinity. Confessing errors to a preacher ain't divinity, Correcting errors by yourself is true divinity. Selling glories of a dead messiah ain't divinity, Refusing all glory to lift another is real divinity. Sitting cross-legged in meditation ain't divinity, Standing up bold against injustice is true divinity. Divinity never comes from bible, marvel or vatican. Burn yourself for others, and you'll know salvation.

When you lift your voices up to pray with this sacred pipe, your prayers will be supported by all the peoples of your Mother Earth praying along with you, as well as everything within this universe that is also praying with you. Believe that this is so and you will always receive direct knowledge from the Great Spirit. Chanunpa is a manifestation of the covenant that you have entered into with life: to pray for and with everything for the glory of Wakan Tanka’s creation to increase in all ways.

His help is timely. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1). His help is very wise. He knows how to give each person help that is proper and suitable for him. His help is most powerful, for deliverance by man is in vain (Psalm 108:12). His help is more than help, for He bears all the burden and supplies all the need. The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid. What will man do to me? (Hebrews 13:6). Because God has already been our help, we can have confidence in Him for the present and the future. Our prayer is, O Lord, be my helper (Psalm 30:10). Our experience is, The Spirit also helps our weakness (Romans 8:26). Our expectation is, I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth (Psalm 121:1-2). Our song will soon be, You have taken hold of my right hand (Psalm 73:23).

Echoes of the Heart"** In a world that's loud and busy, Sometimes words cut through so easy, A whisper can break a heart in two, It's the little things that we say and do. Sometimes even the smallest of words, Can be the ones to hurt you, But let's fill our days with kindness, And watch how love can surely bloom. We're all walking our own journey, With burdens that we carry, A little respect goes a long way, Let's lift each other up every day. Respect for others, a touch of grace, A little more common decency, It's one of the simplest things, You can teach someone, watch their spirit dance and sing. Words are like the wind on the plains, They can soothe or they can bring the rain, Let's choose them with a cowboy's care, Speak with love, as if it's a prayer. In the echoes of the heart, let's find, A melody that's sweet and kind, Teach the young ones as they grow, Decency's the seed we ought to sow.

I still don't know to this day how she managed to climb the 94 stairs; she was dying from an overdose. The gate at the bottom of the stairwell did not make a sound when she entered the building, being so ill and alone. It was odd. Where could she have been? Almost as if she had been dropped off at my doorstep like a package silently by a (Polish) giant. She was pale and could barely open the door with her keys. When she entered, she fell into my arms; she was drunk and high, her legs buckling so that she couldn't stand. I tried to figure out what she had taken and what she had drunk, but she could barely talk; her eyes were rolling back in her skull. She was crying with her head in the toilet bowl, unable to stop the cramps running through her insides and her entire body shaking. - What did you drink? - Two … beers. - I am not your father. What did you take? Where have you been? - Beers and tequila - she mumbled, saliva drooling out of her mouth and her head hanging down like she was dead already. Then I asked her what else she had taken. She still wouldn't answer, so I repeated. - Answer me Martina, who gave it to you?! - I shouted. - Where have you been?! But she didn't answer, and her condition was critical, so I had to rush her to the hospital in my arms as she was about to lose consciousness. I had to grab her and take her to the closest hospital across Parallel, two blocks away. This was the first time I had taken her to the hospital since she'd split her chin by falling off my bicycle allegedly before, although it wasn't the last. Interestingly, whenever she got involved with a new group of criminals, she wound up in the hospital both times, and both times I took her there. She had no energy to lift her head out of the toilet bowl. As soon as I entered the hospital with her, the staff and I had to put her in a wheelchair. They took her inside and 20 minutes later when I was sitting by her bed, she already felt better with an IV dripping slowly into her vein, but she was unable to move; she was lying in her hospital bed, barely able to open her eyes to look at me. She was between life and death, or between real life and just a dream. I remembered less than a year earlier she was so full of life and happy and healthy when I put her up on that set of chairs that night when we took off the 'for sale' sign. The doctors told me after she fell asleep that they wanted to rinse her stomach, but she didn't authorize that. I was not fully aware that she was on drugs time to time or all the time and with what kind of people she was associated with. She almost only showed up at home in September 2014 when she overdosed. I was in love and worried for her so much, so I filled out the forms while they treated her in the hospital. I prayed to God to save her, asking for Him to show her the Truth. All I had was a prayer—50/50 if it worked. And I remembered that two years before, I had prayed for the life of our kitten Sabrina was playing with, making friends. This time, however, I had to rush to the hospital, not the vet, with my 20-year-old girlfriend who would soon be 21 in October 2014. And I felt like Sabrina, trying to make friends again but by the wrong people was the reason why I, an atheist, was praying for a puppy or a kitten or a bunny's life this time again. I didn't know that lies and secrets were eating away at her from deep inside once in a while as well, it wasn't just the drugs that were killing her insides like cancer. Just like her brother's intestines silently began to consume him and her, unbeknownst to them, but I could almost sense it like a dog if I could not see it, smell it inside them like X-ray. They were unaware of what my eyes had seen, as I watched their vibrations and faces silently change.

We live surrounded by God's pattern but we aren't high enough to see it. You can elevate yourself, of course. That's the whole point of education, of meditation and prayer. The more one lifts oneself up, the more of the pattern he is able to make out, though only an enlightened few have a perspective lofty enough to see the outline whole.

This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it… God has plans for me—to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future… I commit my actions to the Lord and my plans will succeed… I will overcome evil with good… I can do everything through him who gives me strength… I am content with what I have because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”… I say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?”… I humble myself before the Lord, and He will lift me up… God is able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us. To Him be the glory forever…

Arise, Lord! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless. Why does the wicked man revile God? Why does he say to himself, “He won’t call me to account”? But you, God, see the trouble of the afflicted; you consider their grief and take it in hand. The victims commit themselves to you; you are the helper of the fatherless. (Ps. 10:12–14 NIV)

If you find a deadness and unaptness, an indisposition in you, you must lift up your souls to the Lord and not give over until you are quickened. And this is to perform the duty in such a manner as the Lord accepts, otherwise it is hypocritical performance; for this is hypocrisy, when a man is not willing to let the duty go altogether, nor yet is willing to perform it fervently, and in a quick and zealous manner. He that omits it altogether is a profane person, and he that performs it zealously, and to purpose, is a holy man; but a hypocrite goes between both. He would do something at it, but he will not do it thoroughly. And, therefore, if you find you have carelessly performed this duty from day to day, that you have performed it in a negligent, perfunctory manner, know that it is a hypocritical performance.

This all could have been so much easier,” he added with a sigh, “if you’d known sooner what was happening to Elizabeth. You have many acquaintances in English society; how is it they never mentioned it to you?” “In the first place, I was away from England for almost a year after the episode. In the second place,” Ian added with contempt, “among what is amusingly called Polite Society, matters that concern you are never discussed with you. They are discussed with everyone else, directly behind your back if possible.” Ian watched an inexplicable smile trace its way across his uncle’s face. “Putting their gossip aside, you find them an uncommonly proud, autocratic, self-assured group, is that it?” “For the most part, yes,” Ian said shortly as he turned and strode up the stairs. When his door closed the vicar spoke to the empty room. “Ian,” he said, his shoulders beginning to shake with laughter, “you may as well have the title-you were born with the traits.” After a moment, however, he sobered and lifted his eyes to the beamed ceiling, his expression one of sublime contentment. “Thank You,” he said in the direction of heaven. “It took You a rather long time to answer the first prayer,” he added, referring to the reconciliation with Ian’s grandfather, “but You were wonderfully prompt with the one for Elizabeth.

O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory. Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips. (Ps. 63:1–5)

As so often in the New Testament, the call to prayer is also the call to think: to think clearly about God and the world, and God’s project for the whole human race. Don’t rest content with the simplistic agendas of the world that suggest you should either idolize your present political system or be working to overthrow it. Try praying for your rulers instead, and watch not only what God will do in your society but also how your own attitudes will grow, change and mature. 1 TIMOTHY 2.8–15 Women Must Be Allowed to Be Learners 8So this is what I want: the men should pray in every place, lifting up holy hands, with no anger or disputing. 9In the same way the women, too, should clothe themselves in an appropriate manner, modestly and sensibly. They should not go in for

Ending the Year in Praise Praise the Lord! Praise God in his heavenly dwelling; praise him in his mighty heaven! Praise him for his mighty works; praise his unequaled greatness! Praise him with a blast of the trumpet; praise him with the lyre and harp! . . . Let everything that lives sing praises to the Lord! Praise the Lord! Psalm 150:1-3, 6 What a way to end the year—praising the Lord for his mighty works, his unequaled greatness. This psalm, also called the last hallelujah, invites us to join the praises to God in the holy place. The praise is not half-hearted; it is full-force praise with musical instruments—tambourine, stringed instruments, the lyre, the cymbals—and dancing, praise from everyone. When we offer God praise, we’re doing what we were created for, even if we’re not the best musician or dancer. All of us can raise our voices singing hymns, choruses, and new songs to the Lord. How has God blessed you, your family, friends, or church this year? What mighty works has he accomplished? What progress have you made in an area in which you’ve struggled? What prayers has God answered? What new attributes or aspects of God have you discovered or experienced in the past year? Lift up your voice or whatever instrument you play, and praise the Lord for these specific things as you pray this psalm aloud.   LORD, I join those in your heavenly dwelling to worship you for your mighty works. I praise your unequaled greatness. I praise you with my whole heart for how you’ve sustained me in the year that is ending, for your faithfulness, love, and provision. Thank you for how you’ll be with me each day in the new year. Let everything that lives sing praises to the Lord!   TO THE EAR OF GOD EVERYTHING HE CREATED MAKES EXQUISITE MUSIC, AND MAN JOINED IN THE PAEAN OF PRAISE UNTIL HE FELL, THEN THERE CAME IN THE FRANTIC DISCORD OF SIN. THE REALIZATION OF REDEMPTION BRINGS MAN BY WAY OF THE MINOR NOTE OF REPENTANCE BACK INTO TUNE WITH PRAISE AGAIN. Oswald Chambers (1874-1917)

Because Your lovingkindness is better than life, My lips shall praise You. Thus I will bless You while I live; I will lift up my hands in Your name. My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, And my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips.” Psalm 63:3–5

FEBRUARY 2 I WILL PURIFY YOUR LIFE WITH MY FIRE ON THE DAY that I come, I will come like a furnace that purifies silver, and I will purify you like I purify gold and silver. I will redeem you from every lawless deed and purify you for Myself to be My own special people, zealous for good works. Draw near to Me, and I will draw near to you. Humble yourself in My sight, and when My purifying work is complete, I will lift you up and purge you with My holy fire so that you become an offering before Me of righteousness. I have tested you and refined you as silver is refined. I have allowed you to pass through fire and through water, but I brought you out to rich fulfillment. I have preserved your soul among the living, and I will not allow your feet to be moved. MALACHI 3:2–3; ZECHARIAH 13:9; PSALM 66:8–12 Prayer Declaration Lord, purify my life with Your fire. Refine me like silver. Purge my life from sin and imperfection as You purge gold and silver that I may become an offering before You of righteousness. I will live my life by denying ungodliness and world lusts, and I will live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present age.

Day Thirty-Two Because You Love Me Thank You for all the ways You love me! Thank You that You forgive me again and again. Help me to do likewise for others. Thank You that You comfort me in my brokenness, provide for my needs, and bless me in your loving-kindness. In everything You are and in everything You do, You prove that Your love is better than life! Help me to become the example of Your love toward all. Show me how to reflect Your heart perfectly. Open my eyes to see others’ needs and open my heart to fill those as I ought. Give me words for others to comfort them and lead them to You. Scripture for Thought “Because Your lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise You. Thus I will bless You while I live; I will lift up my hands in Your name. My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips. When I remember You on my bed, I meditate on You in the night watches. Because You have been my help, therefore in the shadow of Your wings I will rejoice.” Psalm 63:3–7 *** Meditate and reflect on all the ways the Lord has loved you. Consider all the ways He is loving you right now. Then, as you reflect on this, let it motivate you to go and do likewise. ***

St. Lawrence River May 1705 Temperature 48 degrees During the march, when Mercy was finding the Mohawk language such a challenge and a pleasure to learn, Ruth had said to Eben, “I know why the powwow’s magic is successful. The children arrive ready.” The ceremony took place at the edge of the St. Francis river, smaller than the St. Lawrence but still impressive. The spray of river against rock, of ice met smashing into shore, leaped up to meet the rain. Sacraments must occur in the presence of water, under the sky and in the arms of the wind. There was no Catholic priest. There were no French. Only the language of the people was spoken, and the powwow and the chief preceded each prayer and cry with the rocking refrain Listen, listen, listen. Joanna tugged at Mercy’s clothes. “Can you see yet?” she whispered. “Who is it? Is he from Deerfield?” They were leading the boy forward. Mercy blinked away her tears and looked hard. “I don’t recognize him,” she said finally. “He looks about fourteen. Light red hair. Freckles. He’s tall, but thin.” “Hungry thin?” worried Joanna. “No. I think he hasn’t got his growth yet. He looks to be in good health. He’s handsomely made. He is not looking in our direction. He’s holding himself very still. It isn’t natural for him, the way it is for the Indians. He has to work at it.” “He’s scared then, isn’t he?” said Joanna. “I will pray for him.” In Mercy’s mind, the Lord’s Prayer formed, and she had the odd experience of feeling the words doubly: “Our Father” in English, “Pater Noster” in Latin. But Joanna prayed in Mohawk. Mercy climbed up out of the prayers, saying only to the Lord that she trusted Him; that He must be present for John. Then she listened. This tribe spoke Abenaki, not Mohawk, and she could follow little of it. But often at Mass, when Father Meriel spoke Latin, she could follow none of it. It was no less meaningful for that. The magic of the powwow’s chants seeped through Mercy’s soul. When the prayers ended, the women of John’s family scrubbed him in sand so clean and pale that they must have put it through sieves to remove mud and shells and impurities. They scoured him until his skin was raw, pushing him under the rough water to rinse off his whiteness. He tried to grab a lungful of air before they dunked him, but more than once he rose sputtering and gasping. The watchers were smiling tenderly, as one smiles at a new baby or a newly married couple. At last his mother and aunts and sisters hauled him to shore, where they painted his face and put new clothing, embroidered and heavily fringed, on his body. As every piece touched his new Indian skin, the people cheered. They have forgiven him for being white, thought Mercy. But has he forgiven them for being red? The rain came down harder. Most people lowered their faces or pulled up their blankets and cloaks for protection, but Mercy lifted her face into the rain, so it pounded on her closed eyes and matched the pounding of her heart. O Ruth! she thought. O Mother. Father. God. I have forgiven.

5 Lift up your hearts and be aglad, for I am in your bmidst, and am your cadvocate with the Father; and it is his good will to give you the dkingdom. 6 And, as it is written—Whatsoever ye shall aask in bfaith, being cunited in prayer according to my command, ye shall receive. 7 And ye are called to bring to pass the agathering of mine belect; for mine elect chear my voice and dharden not their ehearts

Origen was most articulate about this struggle. “For you who are redeemed by Christ,” he challenged believers in Caesarea, “a physical sword has been removed from your hands.” But this did not mean they were powerless. “In its place the ‘sword of the Spirit’ has been given and you must seize it.” 131 Christians fight by means of “prayers and fasts, justice and piety, gentleness, chastity and all the virtues of self control.” And the result? “One saint who prays is much more powerful than countless sinners who wage war.” 132 So pray and live faithfully, Origen urged the Caesarean believers: “If you wish to prevail, lift up your hands and your deeds.” 133 Along with faithful action, prayer was the Christians’ means of being socially responsible.

I love you, Kitty. I love your virtue, your passion for good, your kindness and strength. I love the fire in your spirit and your yearning for right. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And more than anything I want you to know that you being a Tory—” “Stop.” Kitty placed a hand on his chest. A light from within glowed, warming her body with the brightness of truth. “Nathaniel, that’s what I wanted to tell you—one of the things I wanted to tell you after church this past Sunday. God spoke to me. He showed me the errors of my thinking and I know now, without a grain of doubt remaining, that your cause, the cause of freedom, is God’s cause.” She paused, and lifted her chin. “I’m a patriot.” Nathaniel’s dark brow narrowed and his head tipped slightly. He never moved his gaze and his mouth tightened. Kitty licked her lips and shifted her feet. She smiled, hoping such would coax a response from him. “Are you not pleased?”  His expression didn’t change and a surge of panic inched up her back. “I do hope you are not upset. Nathaniel, you must know I wouldn’t jest about something like this to entice you to say you love me—” Nathaniel swooped down, cutting off her words with a kiss that turned her knees to liquid. His warm breath on her face mixed with her own and she clung to his chest to keep from melting to the ground. He pressed her to him, smoothing his hands down her back and gripping her as if he wished to mold her to him forever. He broke away, breathing heavy. The brightness in his eyes matched the glistening of his lips. “Nay, I am not upset. I’m delighted to the point of utter disbelief. Though I do believe you Kitty, completely.” A deep, quiet chuckle rattled in his chest as he lowered his head. “And I must ask you to stop your bewitching ways, or I won’t be able to resist you as I should.” His eyes wandered to her mouth and he shook his head. “You never answered me.” “Never answered you?” “I asked you to be my wife. Am I to believe my feelings are not returned?” Kitty’s heart grew wings. “Do you believe they are not?” He stepped closer and nuzzled her ear with his nose as he whispered. “Marry me tomorrow, and let me begin to cherish you the way I desire to for the rest of my days. For I can no longer withhold my longing for you Kitty, not when I am consumed by so true a love.”  Ever so slowly, he trailed kisses at the edge of her hair and down to her mouth. His warm, possessive kiss removed every other thought from her mind. He directed her face upward and continued sharing his passion until he finally pulled away, staring at her with parted lips and hooded eyes. “Marry me?” His voice carried no louder than a prayer. She nodded, her throat too thick to make a sound.

I love you, Kitty. I love your virtue, your passion for good, your kindness and strength. I love the fire in your spirit and your yearning for right. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And more than anything I want you to know that you being a Tory—” “Stop.” Kitty placed a hand on his chest. A light from within glowed, warming her body with the brightness of truth. “Nathaniel, that’s what I wanted to tell you—one of the things I wanted to tell you after church this past Sunday. God spoke to me. He showed me the errors of my thinking and I know now, without a grain of doubt remaining, that your cause, the cause of freedom, is God’s cause.” She paused, and lifted her chin. “I’m a patriot.” Nathaniel’s dark brow narrowed and his head tipped slightly. He never moved his gaze and his mouth tightened. Kitty licked her lips and shifted her feet. She smiled, hoping such would coax a response from him. “Are you not pleased?”  His expression didn’t change and a surge of panic inched up her back. “I do hope you are not upset. Nathaniel, you must know I wouldn’t jest about something like this to entice you to say you love me—” Nathaniel swooped down, cutting off her words with a kiss that turned her knees to liquid. His warm breath on her face mixed with her own and she clung to his chest to keep from melting to the ground. He pressed her to him, smoothing his hands down her back and gripping her as if he wished to mold her to him forever. He broke away, breathing heavy. The brightness in his eyes matched the glistening of his lips. “Nay, I am not upset. I’m delighted to the point of utter disbelief. Though I do believe you Kitty, completely.” A deep, quiet chuckle rattled in his chest as he lowered his head. “And I must ask you to stop your bewitching ways, or I won’t be able to resist you as I should.” His eyes wandered to her mouth and he shook his head. “You never answered me.” “Never answered you?” “I asked you to be my wife. Am I to believe my feelings are not returned?” Kitty’s heart grew wings. “Do you believe they are not?” He stepped closer and nuzzled her ear with his nose as he whispered. “Marry me tomorrow, and let me begin to cherish you the way I desire to for the rest of my days. For I can no longer withhold my longing for you Kitty, not when I am consumed by so true a love.”  Ever so slowly, he trailed kisses at the edge of her hair and down to her mouth. His warm, possessive kiss removed every other thought from her mind. He directed her face upward and continued sharing his passion until he finally pulled away, staring at her with parted lips and hooded eyes. “Marry me?” His voice carried no louder than a prayer. She nodded, her throat too thick to make a sound.  He must have seen the unspoken answer in her tear-filled eyes. Tucking the stray hair around her ear he leaned closer. “Are you opposed to an afternoon wedding?” “Nay,” she whispered. Trailing a finger around her ear and down her neck, Nathaniel’s mouth twitched upward into a smile that whispered of delicious secrets to come. “I am glad to hear it. As of tomorrow night you will no longer be Miss Katherine Campbell. You will be my Mrs. Nathaniel Smith.

When two Christians who fully understand this stand before the minister all decked out in their wedding finery, they realize they're not just playing dress-up. What they're saying is that someday they are going to be standing not before the minister but before the Lord. And they will turn to see each other without spot and blemish. And they hope to hear God say "Well done, good and faithful servants. Over the years you two have lifted one another up to me. You sacrificed for one another. You held one another up with prayer and with thanksgiving. You confronted each other. You rebuked each other. You hugged and you loved each other and continually pushed each other toward me. And now look at you. You're radiant.

Look for others to bless Let me ask you: Who are you serving? Who are you being good to? Who are you lifting up? Be on the lookout for others you can bless. God puts people in our lives on purpose so we can brighten their days. You should get up every morning and say, “God, show me my assignment today. Help me to be sensitive to the needs of those around me.” I once baptized nearly eight hundred people on one Saturday. Among them was an older man who’d had a stroke. He couldn’t walk at all. They rolled him up in a wheel chair. To get in the church baptistery, you have to go up some stairs and then walk down stairs into the water. The younger man pushing him in the wheelchair was about my age. You could tell that he really cared about the man. He went to great lengths to make sure he was okay. A couple of men helped the older man stand up. Then the younger man put his arms under his legs and his back so he could carry the elderly man into the water, just like you would carry a sleeping baby. It was a very moving scene, watching the younger man go out of his way to help someone so determined to be baptized despite his age and disabilities. With the young man’s help we were able to baptize the elderly man. After we returned him to his wheelchair, I asked the younger man: “Is that your father?” He shook his head no. “Is he your uncle, or your relative?” I asked. The younger man explained that they’d just met in church a few weeks earlier. He said that on the Sunday I announced the baptism date, the older man in the wheelchair turned to him and said, “I wish I could be baptized. I always wanted to, but I had this stroke. I knew I should have done it sooner.” The young man offered to help him achieve his goal to be baptized. The elderly man said he didn’t have any family to bring him to church, explaining that he normally took a bus that served people in wheelchairs. The young man said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He picked up the stranger at his home, helped him to get to the baptism at our church, and carried him in and out of the baptistery. They’d only met once before in church. My prayer is “God help us all to have that same compassion. Help us not to be so busy, so caught up in our own lives that we miss opportunities to serve others.” God is asking you, will you carry someone? Maybe not physically, but will you help lighten their loads? Will you help bring their dreams to pass? Will you go out of your way to be good to them?

Any time that you lift someone up in prayer, also use your imagination. Imagine yourself laying hands on them and the power of God flowing into their bodies. Feel the virtue leaving you as you pray. See the countenance change as they are healed. See angels coming to minister to them.

The New England wilderness March 1, 1704 Temperature 10 degrees She had no choice but to go to him. She set Daniel down. Perhaps they would spare Daniel. Perhaps only she was to be burned. She forced herself to keep her chin up, her eyes steady and her steps even. How could she be afraid of going where her five-year-old brother had gone first? O Tommy, she thought, rest in the Lord. Perhaps you are with Mother now. Perhaps I will see you in a moment. She did not want to die. Her footsteps crunched on the snow. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The Indian handed Mercy a slab of cornmeal bread, and then beckoned to Daniel, who cried, “Oh, good, I’m so hungry!” and came running, his happy little face tilted in a smile at the Indian who fed him. “Mercy said we’d eat later,” Daniel confided in the Indian. The English trembled in their relief and the French laughed. The Indian knelt beside Daniel, tossing aside Tommy’s jacket and dressing Daniel in warm clean clothing from another child. Nobody in Deerfield owned many clothes, and if she permitted herself to think about it, Mercy would know whose trousers and shirt these were, but she did not want to think about what dead child did not need clothes, so she said to the Indian, “Who are you? What’s your name?” He understood. Putting the palm of his hand against his chest, he said, “Tannhahorens.” She could just barely separate the syllables. It sounded more like a duck quacking than a real word. “Tannhahorens,” he said again, and she repeated it after him. She wondered what it meant. Indian names had to make a picture. She smiled carefully at the man she had thought was going to burn her alive as an example and said, “I’ll be right back, Tannhahorens.” She took a few steps away, and when he did nothing, she ran to her family. Her uncle swept her into his arms. How wonderful his scratchy beard felt! How strong and comforting his hug! “My brave girl,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “Mercy, they won’t let me help you.” In a voice as childish and puzzled as Daniel’s, he added, “They won’t let me help your aunt Mary, or Will and Little Mary either. I tried to help your brothers and got whipped for it.” He stammered: Uncle Nathaniel, whose reading choices from the Bible were always about war, and whose voice made every battle exciting. He needed her comfort as much as she needed his. “Uncle Nathaniel,” she said, “if I had done better, Tommy and Marah--” “Hush,” said her uncle. “The Lord set a task before you and you obeyed. Daniel is your task. Say your prayers as you march.” In a tight little pack behind Uncle Nathaniel stood her three living brothers. How small and cold they looked. Sam lifted his chin to encourage his sister and said, “At least we’re together. Do the best you can, Mercy. So will we.” They stared at each other, the two closest in age, and Mercy thought how proud their mother would be of Sam. “Mercy,” cried her brother John, panicking, “you have to go! Go fast,” he said urgently. “Your Indian is pointing at you.” Tannhahorens was watching her but not signaling. He isn’t angry, thought Mercy. I don’t have to be afraid, but I do have to return. “Find out your Indian’s name,” she said to her brothers. “It helps. Call him by name.” She took the time to hug and kiss each brother. How narrow their little shoulders; how thin the cloth that must keep them from freezing. She had to go before she wept. Indians did not care for crying. “Be strong, Uncle Nathaniel,” she said, touching the strange collar around his neck. “Don’t tug it,” he said wryly. “It’s lined with porcupine quill tips. If I don’t move at the right speed, the Indians give my leash a twitch and the needles jab my throat.” The boys laughed, pantomiming a hard jerk on the cord, and Mercy said, “You’re all just as mean as you ever were!” “And alive,” said Sam. When they hugged once more, she felt a tremor in him, deep and horrified, but under control.

You should go and enjoy your last night of freedom." Dominic held tight to her hands with one of his own, while with the other he tilted up her chin until she was forced to meet his stormy gaze. "Don't worry, Kat. I intend to." With that, his mouth came down on hers to claim her in a way she had never been claimed before. Their last kiss was warm and gentle, an exploration. This kiss devoured, consumed. And in her surprise, she responded. She slipped her hands from his to wrap them around his neck and into his hair. The dark locks slid like warm silk through her chilly fingers and the friction of the action caused her to kiss him deeper. He tasted very faintly of cigar smoke tinged with just the sharpest hint of whiskey. She never would have thought that taste would please her, but somehow it fit him. Smoky and tangy melded together in a way that made her knees go weak. Not that she needed their support. The moment their lips touched, Dominic crushed her against him and became her support and her prison all at once. A prison she didn't feel any desire to escape. In comparison to the air and the cold of the snow, he was as hot as fire. She was molded against a hard, lean body that melted her defenses and made her groan. "Dominic," she whimpered against his lips. He smiled between hot kisses. "So you do know my name. Say it again." Instead she lifted her lips for another kiss, but he held back. "Say it." "Dominic," she repeated, so low he barely heard it. But it was loud enough for now. Later, he would make her cry out his name. It would be a plea and a prayer as he took her careening over an edge he doubted she even knew existed. Yet. Just the thought of that made hot blood pump harder through him and he brought her even closer. Slowly, he moved his mouth away from hers and began a leisurely trail down her throat. To his delight, she arched against him with a quiet moan as her fingers dug into the layers of his coat. Emboldened by her passionate response, he pressed her back against the terrace wall as one hand brushed up her body until he cupped her breast. Her eyes flew open in surprise, but within the green depths he saw no fear, rather a haze of desire and surrender. With a half-smile, he kissed her again, this time with more control as he gently massaged the nipple thrusting out even through her heavy gown. Her mouth came open with a gasp of pleasure and he drank deeply of her taste. He wanted her. Now. Tonight. Tomorrow wasn't going to come fast enough.

You who bring good news to Jerusalem, lift up your voice with a shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, “Here is your God!” See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power, and he rules with a mighty arm. See, his reward is with him, and his recompense accompanies him. He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young. (Isa. 40:9–11 NIV)

To add even more drama to my announcement, I concluded by saying that after they got ready for bed they should go sit on their beds and moan… for the Bible says that the Holy Spirit will lift up prayers on our behalf if all we can do is moan. “So the Holy Spirit will be tucking you into bed tonight. I am

Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul. (Ps. 143:8)

Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. (Ps. 63:3–5 NIV)

On August 18, 1941, Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr. of the Royal Canadian Air Force took a new airplane, the Spitfire Mk I, on a test flight. Magee had received his wings as a pilot only two months earlier. As he flew the Spitfire up to new heights of 33,000 feet, he felt inspired to write a poem that has now become the official poem of both the Royal Canadian Air Force and the British Royal Air Force. Short films have been created with this poem as a basis. In its entirety or in part, the poem can be found in songs, on headstones, in presidential addresses, in museums, and in eulogies. Some have even used it as a prayer. High Flight Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things You have not done—wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there, I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. Up, up the long, delirious blue I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or even eagle flew. And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod The high, untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

In front of All the People I will thank you, Lord, in front of all the people. I will sing your praises among the nations. For your unfailing love is higher than the heavens. Your faithfulness reaches to the clouds. Be exalted, O God, above the highest heavens. May your glory shine over all the earth. Psalm 108:3-5 Identifying with Jesus “in front of all the people” is sometimes quite difficult and often unpopular. Singing praises in church or Sunday school is one thing, but singing his praises among the nations is another issue altogether. The psalmist’s declarations of praise can cause each one of us to think about our love for the Lord and the extent to which we will go to identify ourselves with him. God’s love is absolutely and completely unfailing, and his faithfulness is so great that if we could measure it, it would reach to the clouds. Do you exalt God above the highest heavens? We serve a wonderful, loving, faithful, glorious God. Let us be like the writer of the psalm—unashamed to thank him in front of all the people and to sing his praises everywhere. May we not be embarrassed to lift up the Lord in every situation and at any time and to do whatever we can to cause his glory to shine over all the earth.   THANK YOU, FATHER, for your unfailing love. I praise you for your faithfulness. Be exalted above the highest heavens. May your glory shine over all the earth. Strengthen me so that I am secure in your love and faithfulness. Help me to thank you and praise you in front of all people and among the nations so that your name will be glorified.

MAY 17 LET GOD TAKE CONTROL Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. —1 PETER 5:6–7 THIS VERSE SOUNDS so easy but is oftentimes a very difficult thing to do. It is human nature to want to control everything in your life because it gives you a sense of security. I can say from personal experience that life gets much easier once you give in and let God take control—not only in the difficult times but in the good times as well. Let Him control everything in your life, and all of a sudden the stresses and burdens of everyday living disappear, and a peace comes over you. How awesome it is that we serve a God Who actually wants us to lay all of our burdens on Him? It is truly something we all take for granted. Prayer God, I give everything in my life to You, for I know You know the plans You have for me. I pray that I will be humble and not try to be in control and that I will lay all my burdens at Your feet—and leave them there. —Martin

May the Lord God bless you and keep you from the torment of fear and anxiety. May He cause His face to shine upon you with power, love and a sound mind and give you grace to cast out fear through perfect love. May He lift up His countenance upon you with freedom as you tell Him every detail of your need in earnest, thankful prayer, and give you the peace that surpasses all understanding, as He keeps your heart and mind safe through Jesus Christ.[4]

May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice. PSALM 141:2

All of us have felt like getting away, just packing our bags and saying, “I’ve had enough! I can’t take anymore! I’ve got to get away.” It’s a normal, natural reaction. But it is not a good solution to any problem. We usually take our problems with us. We can go on vacation and enjoy a short respite. But when we return, the battles and burdens are still there. In fact, sometimes when we try to run away, we only make the problems worse. Why does the Lord allow us to go through windy storms and tempests? They help us grow and mature. If we keep running away, we are like children who never grow up. No, we don’t need the wings of a dove to fly away. We need the wings of an eagle. Isaiah 40:31 says, “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” The eagle faces the storm, spreads his great wings, and allows the wind to lift him above the storm. Don’t run away. Run to the Lord, and let Him lift you high above the storm.

God is going to lift you up higher, day by day and from prayer to prayer.

You may not care what happens to the rest of the world. But I do. This is bigger than my life, than all of our lives. If grandfather Enoch prophesied the truth and Betenos and I are the lineage of the Seed, then why would you give up? Would you dishonor the faith of the one you loved most on this earth?” That got through Methuselah’s wall of silence. Lamech was right. His son was absolutely right. Methuselah had placed his faith in this world and not in Elohim’s promised world to come. He had relied on his senses for so long that he had worn them out. He had lost his taste, his smell, his touch; he had become blind, deaf and dumb. He had neglected prayer because Elohim seemed so distant and his prayers almost futile. He had come to believe that things got done because he got up and did them, not because of Elohim’s solicited favor. Since Elohim was going to do what he was going to do anyway, then why bother wasting time talking to him about it? He had become a self-made man who lifted himself up by his own sandal straps. And it was all a self-deluded lie. He had missed the whole point that his wife had been trying to tell him: he distrusted Elohim because of the betrayal of the gods. He had lived a life of self-reliance rather than a life of faith. He had sought desperately for significance in this world. But he now understood his significance would be as the protector of Elohim’s Seed, not the fulfiller of his own.

APRIL 15 BREAK AND DIVIDE EVERY DEMONIC CONFEDERACY I WILL NOT be silent when those who hate me have lifted up their heads and taken crafty counsel against My people. They have consulted together against My children and put a confederacy in place to cut you off so that you will be remembered no more. I will deal with them as I dealt with the enemies of the Israelites, and they will become refuse on the earth. They will be like the whirling dust and the chaff that blows before the wind. I will cause them to confounded and dismayed forever, and I will put them to shame that they may perish. For My name alone is the Lord, and I am the Most High over all the earth. PSALM 83 Prayer Declaration Father, I break and divide every demonic confederacy against my life in the name of Jesus, and I loose confusion into every demonic confederacy directed against my life, family, and church. Persecute them with Your tempest, and make them afraid of Your terrible storm. Let them be confounded and troubled forever. Let them be confused and attack each other until they perish.

Father in heaven, we confess to you that we don’t pray as we ought. Ignite our hearts with the fiery darts of your Spirit to enable us to pray. Create in us a life of unceasing prayer. Stoke the fire of prayer in our church to a new intensity so that we are changed, as well as the people around us. Jesus, we lift up your name; we plead with you to draw people to yourself. Turn our church around for your glory, now and forevermore! In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Isaiah 49:17-18 Your sons hasten back, and those who laid you waste depart from you. 18) Lift up your eyes and look around, all your sons gather and come to you. As surely as I live declare the Lord, you will wear them as ornaments. ·         Isaiah 49:28, the captives will be taken from the warriors and plunders retrieved from fierce; I will contend with those who contend with you and your children will be saved! ·         1 Chronicles 4:10 Prayer of Jabez ·         Isaiah 55:8, for my thoughts are not your thoughts…so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts and 11) my word will not return empty but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which it was sent.

FEBRUARY 10 I BIND THE GENERATIONAL REBELLION AGAINST MY HOLY SPIRIT MY CHILD, DO not disobey Me and hide rebellion against Me in your heart as the children of Israel and King Saul did. In My love and mercy I redeemed them, and I lifted them up and carried them. Do not grieve My Holy Spirit, but keep as your pattern sound teaching, faith, and love in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you—guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in you. I will come to you and will bind the generational rebellion against My Holy Spirit that began with My children of Israel. I am the God of hope, and I will fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Me, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of My Spirit. ISAIAH 63:10; ACTS 7:51; 2 TIMOTHY 1:13; ROMANS 15:13 Prayer Declaration I praise You, Father, for You have loosened my spirit from the spirit of rebellion against Your Spirit that began with Your children in the wilderness. I will guard the good deposit of new life that you have given me with the help of Your Holy Spirit who now lives in me.

February 10 Is Your Imagination of God Starved? Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things. Isaiah 40:26 The people of God in Isaiah’s day had starved their imagination by looking on the face of idols, and Isaiah made them look up at the heavens; that is, he made them begin to use their imagination aright. Nature to a saint is sacramental. If we are children of God, we have a tremendous treasure in Nature. In every wind that blows, in every night and day of the year, in every sign of the sky, in every blossoming and in every withering of the earth, there is a real coming of God to us if we will simply use our starved imagination to realise it. The test of spiritual concentration is bringing the imagination into captivity. Is your imagination looking on the face of an idol? Is the idol yourself? Your work? Your conception of what a worker should be? Your experience of salvation and sanctification? Then your imagination of God is starved, and when you are up against difficulties you have no power, you can only endure in darkness. If your imagination is starved, do not look back to your own experience; it is God Whom you need. Go right out of yourself, away from the face of your idols, away from everything that has been starving your imagination. Rouse yourself, take the gibe that Isaiah gave the people, and deliberately turn your imagination to God. One of the reasons of stultification in prayer is that there is no imagination, no power of putting ourselves deliberately before God. We have to learn how to be broken bread and poured-out wine on the line of intercession more than on the line of personal contact. Imagination is the power God gives a saint to posit himself out of himself into relationships he never was in.

FEBRUARY 18 HUMILITY AND SUBMISSION TO ME WILL PROTECT YOU I HAVE HEARD the desire of the humble, and I will prepare your heart and cause My ear to hear. I am great and mighty in power, and I will lift up the humble. But I will cast the wicked down to the ground. The highway of the upright avoids evil, and those who guard their ways preserve their lives. Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. But how much better it is to be lowly in spirit, for I will instruct the humble in the way they should go. I will prosper them and bless the one who trusts only in Me. You who are younger, submit yourselves to your elders, and clothe yourselves with humility toward one another. For I will oppose the proud, but I will show favor to the humble. Humble yourself under My mighty hand, and I will lift you up in due time. ISAIAH 57:15; PSALMS 10:17–18; 147:5–6; 1 PETER 5:5–6 Prayer Declaration Father, in humility and submission I stand before You. I have prepared my heart to do Your will and have strengthened my spirit to follow after Your ways. Cover me with Your protection, for I have submitted myself to You, to Your Word, and to Your Holy Spirit.

Love for a Fallen World Father, we praise you that no matter the depth of our sin, your love can reach down and lift us up; no matter the hurt and pain we feel, your love holds us and heals us; no matter how far we wander from you and your will for our lives, your love still reaches out to find us and bring us home. We praise you that your love far exceeds our guilt, that though, in Christ’s death on the cross, you have made clear the enormity of our sin, you accept us as we are. You never allow us to become satisfied with the lives we live and the things we say and do, but you are always seeking to lift us up and make us new and make us whole. We praise you most for your utter determination that we should be free—free to choose, free to live, free to praise, and free to serve. We praise you for the freedom that comes to us in Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen.

Gracious and beloved Lord, at the beginning of this time of prayer, I lift up to you my heart overflowing with gratitude for the many gifts and blessings that you have given me. I dedicate this time of worship and prayer, and the graceful energy that shall flow outward from the altar of my heart as an offering for the welfare of all your children. May your Holy Spirit take me by the hand and lead me deep into the center of my heart, into your Holy of Holies. Amen.

Psalm 116 Theme: Praise for being saved from certain death. Worship is a thankful response and not a repayment for what God has done. Author: Anonymous     1I love the LORD because he hears my voice         and my prayer for mercy. +     2Because he bends down to listen,         I will pray as long as I have breath! +     3Death wrapped its ropes around me;         the terrors of the grave* overtook me.         I saw only trouble and sorrow. +     4Then I called on the name of the LORD:         “Please, LORD, save me!” +     5How kind the LORD is! How good he is!         So merciful, this God of ours! +     6The LORD protects those of childlike faith;         I was facing death, and he saved me. +     7Let my soul be at rest again,         for the LORD has been good to me. +     8He has saved me from death,         my eyes from tears,         my feet from stumbling. +     9And so I walk in the LORD’s presence         as I live here on earth!    10I believed in you, so I said,         “I am deeply troubled, LORD.” +    11In my anxiety I cried out to you,         “These people are all liars!”    12What can I offer the LORD         for all he has done for me? +    13I will lift up the cup of salvation         and praise the LORD’s name for saving me.    14I will keep my promises to the LORD         in the presence of all his people. +    15The LORD cares deeply         when his loved ones die. +    16O LORD, I am your servant;         yes, I am your servant, born into your household;         you have freed me from my chains.    17I will offer you a sacrifice of thanksgiving         and call on the name of the LORD.    18I will fulfill my vows to the LORD         in the presence of all his people—    19in the house of the LORD         in the heart of Jerusalem.     Praise the LORD!

given me, and ask Him to uphold and increase it. And lastly, once more, let not Satan deceive you in making you think that you could not have the same faith but that it is only for persons who are situated as I am. When I lose such a thing as a key, I ask the Lord to direct me to it, and I look for an answer to my prayer; when a person with whom I have made an appointment does not come, according to the fixed time, and I begin to be inconvenienced by it, I ask the Lord to be pleased to hasten him to me and I look for an answer; when I do not understand a passage of the word of God, I lift up my heart to the Lord, that He would be

Instead of instruction in the faith that is centered on an abstract framework of doctrine lifted from the outline of systematic theology, liturgical catechesis is an induction into the faith that begins from what Christians do when we gather to pray around Word and Table. It is learning that is rooted in prayer. It is discipleship that bubbles up from worship. It is a pedagogy that is rooted in the conviction that we pray before we know, we worship before we “worldview.” The worshipers the Father desires (John 4:23) are formed, not just informed. That formation should begin with children’s ministry that grabs hold of the imagination.

I Pray For This Girl Oh yes! For the young girl Who just landed on Mother Earth! The one about to turn five with a smile Or the other one who just turned nine She is not only mine My Mother’s, Grandmother’s Neighbours’ or friends’ daughter She is like a flower Very fragile, yet so gorgeous An angel whose wings are invisible I speak life to this young or older girl She might not have a say But expects the world to be a better place Whether affluent or impoverished No matter her state of mind Her background must not determine How she is treated in life She needs to live; she has to thrive! Lord God Almighty Sanctify her unique journey Save her from the claws of the enemy Shield her against any brutality Restore her, if pain becomes reality Embrace her, should joy pass swiftly When emptiness fills her heart severely May you be her sanctuary! Dear Father, please give her Honour to grow without being frightened Hope whenever she feels forsaken Contentment even after her heart was broken Comfort when she is shaken Courage when malice creeps in Calm when she needs peace Strength when she is weak Freedom to climb to the mountain peak And wisdom to tackle any season Guide her steps, keep her from tumbling My Lord, if she does sometimes stumble Lift her up, so she can rise and ramble Grant her power to tactfully triumph On my knees, I plead meekly for this girl I may have never met her I may not know her name I may not be in her shoes I may not see her cries Yet, I grasp her plight Wherever she is King of Kings Be with her Each and every day I pray for this girl

Prayer. What do I consider greatness to look like in prayer? What do I think I need to do every day in terms of prayer to become a saint? Don’t ask the question, “Do I pray enough?” The answer is no—no one prays enough; it’s not possible. But am I praying as much as I should be praying? Scripture. There is no way I am able to let God form me if I don’t read his word. I have to let him form me, and he forms me through the Scriptures. Service. Do I reach out of myself? Do I look to volunteer, whether it is in the parish, the local community, or with the poor? Confession. Do I have as my goal getting to Confession once every two months? If that’s not on your list, I’d start there. And if you haven’t been to Confession in years, just come back. Just come back! Mass. Obviously, we need to go to Sunday Mass. But ask yourself this: is it possible for me to achieve greatness when I am feeding on the Eucharist only once a week? Once we’ve really come to understand, objectively speaking, that the Eucharist is the greatest source of strength that we could ever encounter in our lives, why wouldn’t we want to come more often? Some of us can’t go to Mass more than once a week because of work. But maybe we can try to get there once during the week, in addition to Sunday. Many people who start coming during the week end up coming every day as they gradually realize, “I just can’t thrive without the Eucharist. I’m not strong enough. I used to think I was, but now I’ve come to realize otherwise.” Sin. What are the one or two really significant obstacles in my life right now that are keeping me from reaching the goal of sainthood? How am I going to overcome those? Am I just going to say to myself, “Well, that’s just the way I am”? Or am I going to let the Lord change me? Fasting. Do I ever fast? Jesus doesn’t say, “If you fast . . .”; he says, “When you fast . . .” What is my plan for fasting? Some of us can’t fast from food because of health reasons, but we can fast from something else, like the news or the time we spend looking at our computers or cell phones. Alms. Do I give alms? Do I look at the resources that I have as a means by which I can share with the poor? Pope Francis is constantly reminding us of our obligation to do what we can to help the poor. He wants us not just to care for them so that they simply receive our mercy but, instead, to lift them up and set them on their feet and get them on their way. That’s what he’s encouraging us to do.

If you are lonely, sad, sick, discouraged, in financial need or other trouble, we remember you today. May our prayers rise to meet you and to lift you up to a moment of peace. May you continue to hope, in the face of all darkness, that the light will shine again. You are not forgotten and you are not alone.

A MORNING PRAYER Heavenly Father thank you for this beautiful new day and I lift up your Holy name in the mighty name of Jesus. ‘This is the day that the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it’(Psalm 118:24). Thank you Lord for the gift of life and thank you for the hedge of protection over my life and my entire family throughout the the night in Jesus name. Forgive me for any mistake I have made that hindered your good plans for my life. Father God thank you for your mercies, your mercies are new every morning. You alone you are my refuge and my place of safety. I ask you Lord to direct my steps and take control of my thoughts this morning. King Jesus, help me to hear and understand your voice. Help me to know you more and understand your loving and forgiving nature. Fill my heart with peace and joy. And help me to show and spread love in small ways. In the mighty name of Jesus. Father God I ask for your grace and your blood to cover our lives throughout the day in Jesus’ Name. Amen.

When the excitement of these days passes away, and when some of the visions begin to grow a little dim; when it becomes impossible to put into words the prayer you want to speak, then we must be able to lift our heads up, and say with all faith as Peter did, ‘Lord, you know that I love you.

Horizontal comparisons tend to stimulate self-righteousness. Think of the contrast between the words of the Pharisee and the tax collector in Jesus’s parable in Luke 18. He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9–14) In comparing himself to other people who are obviously more sinful than he is, the Pharisee essentially tells God that he doesn’t need him, and he surely doesn’t need his forgiveness. How ironic it is to tell the One to whom you are praying that you don’t need him. How strange is it to turn prayer into an argument for your independence rather than a humble confession of personal need. The argument of the Pharisee has two parts. First, he compares himself to others, and then he offers evidence that he is really quite righteous. Sadly, in this man’s prayer, he is participating in his own deception—​​​a deception that will be his doom. The tax collector does just the opposite. Why is he so quick to cry out for God’s mercy? He’s quick to do so because he’s looked into the mirror of God’s Word. You cannot read God’s Word without becoming deeply aware that you are a person in desperate need. You cannot read God’s Word without being confronted with the sin that lives in your heart. You cannot read your Bible without facing the fact that you constantly fall beneath God’s wise and holy standard. You cannot properly celebrate the Christmas story without also being willing to receive its clear and loving rebuke.

Give me a place to stand . . . and I will move the world,” Archimedes said of the power of the lever. It’s true. Small things in the right place have enormous consequences. So it is with prayer. The power of prayer is not proportionate to its length, for prayer works outside the physics of our intentions. And that is a good thing. No matter how short, prayer is the lever that can lift the heaviest of hearts. Lift them up to see reality as it really is—that we are children of the King, that today he is redeeming all things, and that we are invited into that glorious reality. You should know, of course, that this is not a quick fix to make life painless. Nothing is. None of the spiritual disciplines promise to make our life simple or give us eternal patience with our children. None of them will banish our worries and exhaustions forever at the snap of a finger. But what they can do is open our hearts to see that God has been there all along, waiting patiently to meet us right in the midst of our complexities and anxieties. And in the light of God’s presence with us, we are reminded that the monsters we feared never existed after all. Remember, it didn’t help Coulter

I threw the knife against the wall and offered up my bleeding palm. “Here. A bonded bargain—his life in exchange for whatever you want. My life, my soul. I’ll fight this war in your name. I’ll die for it, if you wish. I’ll pay any price you ask. You hear me? Any price.” My head sank low, too heavy to lift, my voice choking beneath my sobs. “Take it. Please. Please. I’m begging you...” Words gave way to a long, sorrowful wail as I collapsed forward and succumbed to my despair. I knew my prayers would go unheard. She wasn’t listening. The gods never listened.

MAY 5 I RULE THE SEA AND THE WATERS BY MY STRENGTH I RULE THE sea and waters by My strength, and I am mightier than the noise of many waters or the mighty waves of the sea. The sea is Mine, for I made it, just as I formed the dry land. When you go down to the sea in ships and do business on great waters, you will see My works and My wonders in the deep. It is I who commands and raises the stormy wind and who lifts up the waves of the sea. I cause them to mount up to the heavens and to go down again to the depths. I will calm the story so that its waves are still and guide you to your desired haven. I will make a way in the sea and a path through the mighty waters. PSALMS 93:4; 107:23–30; ISAIAH 43:16 Prayer Declaration Lord, You rule the sea and the waters by Your strength, and You will not let any evil waters overflow my life. Your power will protect me, and no evil waves will rise up against me, nor will I be cast into the depths of the sea. Just as You dried up the sea and the waters of the great deep to make a road for the Israelites, so too You will make a road through the sea for the redeemed to cross over.

My Husband’s Health 3 John 1:2 Dear Lord, You are so amazing! Thank You for being a perfect example for my husband to look up to as a husband. I pray he will seek You daily to fully understand and grasp his role as my husband. I also ask that Your Holy Spirit would continue to refine him and draw him near to You. One specific area of his life I wanted to lift up to You today is my husband’s health. It is so vital that he has great health so that he can take care of his family with joy and longevity. I do not want to see my husband suffer with illness or pain, but if he does, I hope he can find security in You still. My desire is for him to live a happy life, free of sickness or injury. I realize that diet and preventative care both play great big roles in maintaining his health, so I beg You to motivate my husband to pursue a healthy lifestyle. Help him to eat right, exercise, and get adequate rest. If he is stubborn, refusing to make healthy choices for his body, please convict his heart on the matter and help him to change. If my husband is suffering in any way, even if he has an issue that is affecting him, yet he remains unaware, would You please miraculously heal him completely. I pray my husband’s health improves as he takes care of his body and his family in Jesus’ name AMEN!

helps you to habitually put God into every picture, seasoning your feelings and thoughts, lifting you up when disappointed, and humbling you when successful.

SOMETIMES MY SOVEREIGN HAND—MY CONTROL over your life—places you in humbling circumstances. You feel held down, held back, and powerless to change things. You long to break free and feel in control of your life once again. Although this is an uncomfortable position, it is actually a good place to be. Your discomfort awakens you from the slumber of routine and reminds you that I am in charge of your life. It also presents you with an important choice: You can lash out at your circumstances—resenting My ways with you—or you can draw closer to Me. When you are suffering, your need for Me is greater than ever. The more you choose to come near Me, affirming your trust in Me, the more you can find hope in My unfailing Love. You can even learn to be joyful in hope while waiting in My Presence—where Joy abounds. Persevere in trusting Me, and I will eventually lift you up. Meanwhile, cast all your anxiety on Me, knowing that I care for you affectionately and am watching over you continually. Many are the woes of the wicked, but the LORD’s unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him. —Psalm 32:10 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. —Romans 12:12 You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. —Psalm 16:11 NKJV Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. —1 Peter 5:6–7

Some years ago I took a copy of God’s “whoever” policy to California. I wanted to show it to my Uncle Billy. He’d been scheduled to visit my home, but bone cancer had thwarted his plans. My uncle reminded me much of my father: squared like a blast furnace, ruddy as a leather basketball. They shared the same West Texas roots, penchant for cigars, and blue-collar work ethic. But I wasn’t sure if they shared the same faith. So after several planes, two shuttles, and a rental-car road trip, I reached Uncle Billy’s house only to learn he was back in the hospital. No visitors. Maybe tomorrow. He felt better the next day. Good enough to come home. I went to see him. Cancer had taken its toll and his strength. The recliner entombed his body. He recognized me yet dozed as I chatted with his wife and friends. He scarcely opened his eyes. People came and went, and I began to wonder if I would have the chance to ask the question. Finally the guests stepped out onto the lawn and left me alone with my uncle. I slid my chair next to his, took his skintaut hand, and wasted no words. “Bill, are you ready to go to heaven?” His eyes, for the first time, popped open. Saucer wide. His head lifted. Doubt laced his response: “I think I am.” “Do you want to be sure?” “Oh yes.” Our brief talk ended with a prayer for grace. We both said “amen,” and I soon left. Uncle Billy died within days. Did he wake up in heaven? According to the parable of the eleventh-hour workers, he did.

certain Goth, named Galla, was of the impious sect of the Arians. This terrible Goth, during the reign of King Totila, did with monstrous cruelty persecute religious men of the Catholic Church. If any cleric or monk came into his sight, he was sure not to escape from his hands alive. This man, enraged with an insatiable desire of spoil and pillage, lighted one day upon a husbandman, whom he tormented with cruel torments. The rustic, overcome with pain, professed that he had committed his goods to the custody of the servant of God, Benedict. This he feigned that he might free himself from torments and prolong his life for some time. Then this Galla desisted from tormenting him and, tying his arms together with a strong cord, made him run before his horse to show him who this Benedict was that had received his goods. Thus the man went in front, having his arms bound, and brought him to the holy man’s monastery, whom he found sitting alone at the monastery gate, reading. Then the countryman said to Galla, who followed furiously after him, “See! This is Father Benedict whom I told you of.” The barbarous ruffian, looking upon him with enraged fury, thought to affright him with his usual threats, and began to cry out with a loud voice, saying, “Rise, rise and deliver up this rustic’s goods which thou hast received.” At whose voice the man of God suddenly lifted up his eyes from reading and saw him and also the countryman whom he kept bound; but, as he cast his eyes upon his arms, in a wonderful manner the cords fell off so quickly that no man could possibly have so soon untied them. When Galla perceived the man whom he brought bound so suddenly loosened and at liberty, struck with fear at the sight of so great power, he fell prostrate and bowed his stiff and cruel neck at the holy man’s feet, begging his prayers. But the holy man rose not from his reading, but called upon the brethren to bring him to receive his benediction. When he was brought to him, he exhorted him to leave off his barbarous and inhuman cruelty.

What are you holding on to that’s making your soul sick with anger, depression, sadness, anxiety? You’ll recognize it as the thing that’s always there in the back of your mind, barring you from living a free and happy existence. If only that person were better, or if that issue was resolved, or if that memory didn’t keep sneaking in… the enormous weight would be lifted. Maybe it’s time to “let go and let God.” Offer up prayers about that thing that weighs so heavily on you, and ask God to take it from here.

PRAYER Father God, I thank You for providing a way so I can know where my tomorrow will be. Thank You for sending Jesus to pay the price on the cross for my sins. I'm so gladIsaid `Yes"as a young girl.!Amen. HEART ACTION If you haven't answered the tomorrow question, today might be the day to settle the most important question in your life. PERSONALIZED TEA PARTY In advance of a tea party, create a list of what makes each woman you have invited beautiful in your eyes. Use examples from that woman's life of how she demonstrates areas of beauty and grace. Share these with the group and encourage others to offer their words of honor as you lift up each person in attendance. Where there's tea there's hope.

Power of Prayer     “The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer” (Psalm 6:9).     I realize the power of prayer and the importance of praying for others. Yet sometimes I have these pesky doubts sprouting up in the garden of my mind, like weeds. Unless I pull out the root of the problem, they will continue to grow and return.   Recently, I prayed for my daughter’s healing. I also used common sense, having her sleep and take it easy all day. But then this morning her cough continued. It got progressively worse on our walk to the bus stop. Later in the day, she even had to break from an aggressive game of hide-n-seek to give her lungs a rest.   I found myself wondering; I know God is a miracle-working God, so why is she not healed? I know that God heals the sick, so why is she still coughing? I know that God says, ask and you shall receive (Luke 11) so why has my prayer not been heard? I want a miracle now. I know it’s within God’s power. Her lungs could become instantly made perfect in a simple command.   So knowing He can do this, why doesn’t He?   I reason that either: a) God didn’t hear my prayer, b) He heard my prayer and ignored it, c) He heard my prayer and answered, Yes later, or d) He heard my prayer and answered, No.   a)   He didn’t hear my prayer   I know God hears my prayers, based on scripture and my own experiences. There are lots of passages in the Bible to back up the fact that God does hear us. “This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us” (1 John 5:14).   My own experiences even include God hearing my inner, unspoken prayers. I have prayed for safety, while driving in dangerous storms, and He answered my prayer. I have prayed for help and He answered immediately. Actually, I could fill this page and the next with prayers answered, both verbally expressed and those silently directed to God, as proof that He does hear my prayers.   b)   He heard my prayer and ignored it   Given that God hears my prayer, He can either respond, Yes or No. Considering that nothing is impossible for God (Luke 18 ) and He is a just and loving God, there is no reason for Him to ignore me. He calls to me everyday. Since He wants to communicate with me, it would be against His very nature to ignore me. He is merciful and kind, forgiving and gentle. If anything, He wants a relationship with me and so He would not ignore me. “For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer” (1 Peter 3:12).   c) He heard my prayer and answered, Yes later   I know that God hears my prayers. I know by His very nature He would not ignore my prayers. (2 Chronicles 7 NIV) So He may be saying, Yes later. God knows the past, the present and the future. He lives in eternity. He knows what is best for me and when. His timing is perfect and I must learn to accept this. I must lift my prayer to Him and then settle back knowing that He is in full control.   It’s just a matter of patience. “We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised” (Hebrews 6:12). Like the time I had to wait for my house to sell. I

The next time you feel forsaken and lift up your voice to pray to Almighty God, do this—go to a private place and spend significant time reflecting on the incredible truth that the One who hears your prayers has been there too.

But with the books read, the hymns sung, the prayers recited, and the warm, fleece-thick hugs lingered over, there is peace. A peace that comes when after months of struggle, and darkness, and chill, the sun breaks through the clouds, and reveals a glittering beneath the shadows. A peace that infuses the air when you realize, with the clarity of crystal, the depth to which God loves you (John 3:16), and blesses you richly, even while you're perseverating over your own myopic view of the world. The sky closed up again within twenty-four hours. But for a day, a seldom sun lifted mist from puddles and coaxed jackets from limbs. It brushed back winter's dreary countenance. Across dappled earth it revealed the great mercy God has shown us in guiding us down this path, a path we had never planned, a world of glimmers we would otherwise never have known. Not what if, but even if.

I Pray For This Girl Oh yes! For the young girl Who just landed on Mother Earth! The one about to turn five with a smile Or the other one Who just turned nine She is not only mine My Mother’s, Grandmother’s Neighbour’s or friend’s daughter She is like a flower Very fragile, yet so gorgeous An Angel whose wings are invisible I speak life to this young or older girl She might not have a say But expects the world to be a better place Whether affluent or impoverished No matter her state of mind Her background must not determine How she is treated Like others, she needs to live Indeed, she has to thrive! Lord God Almighty Sanctify her unique journey Save her from the claws of the enemy Shield her against any brutality Restore her if pain becomes a reality Embrace her should joy pass swiftly When emptiness fills her heart severely May you be her sanctuary! Dear Father, please give her The honour to grow without being frightened Hope whenever she feels forsaken Contentment even after her heart was broken Comfort when she is shaken Courage when malice creeps in Calm when she needs peace Strength when she is weak Freedom to climb on a mountain peak And wisdom to tackle any season Guide her steps, keep her from tumbling My Lord, if she does sometimes stumble Lift her up, so she can rise and ramble Grant her power to wisely triumph On my knees, I plead meekly for this girl I may have never met her I may not know her name I may not be in her shoes I may not see her cries Yet, I grasp her plight Wherever she is King of Kings Be with her Each and every day I pray for this girl

In God's kingdom, the way up is down. Get into your prayer closet and humble yourself, and He will lift you up to the mountain-top experiences that will give you the vision, the faith, and the wisdom you need to do the work of restoration.

Ask anyone who has been in a crowd that becomes too strong, where bodies begin to crush you. Is your first instinct to lift others up, or to trample them down? That beast inside you, the one you think is tethered tightly to the post, the one you’ve tamed with art, love, prayer, meditation: it’s barely muzzled.

In the pantry she found a jug of olive oil, several bulbs of garlic and onion, some ripe tomatoes, half a lemon, several dates, a big cabbage, some rice, jars of cardamom, tea, pepper, green wheat, sugar, turmeric, salt, nutmeg, fenugreek, dried mint, saffron, cinnamon, oregano, sumac, lentils, and powdered coffee. And behind all this, glowing and sweating, smooth and satiny, black as onyx and fat as a baby, she found an eggplant. Aunt Camille held it up high in the air with both hands like a midwife holds the newly caught infant and announced, "The answer to our prayers!" Thus ensued some scooping and scraping, some slicing and dicing, some stuffing and some baking. She found a few raisins here, a few pine nuts there, did some frying in aliya- the fat of the lamb's tail. She had to experiment a bit with the heat in that fire-hold- and before you knew it, there was a magnificent dish of stuffed eggplant presented on a cobalt-blue glass platter. The fragrance of the dish filled the kitchen and wafted around them as she carried the platter through the forest to the jinn. He hadn't stopped his prayers once in all this time, but as Aunt Camille drew closer, the rich, garlicky, buttery, nuttery, eggplanty flavor swirled around his head until he felt his senses would be lifted right out of his body.

I close my eyes and say a prayer, That tonight you’ll be held. I lift you up to the spare pair Of shoulders that can’t be felled. Tonight, as you sleep, I pray your worries are wiped away. May you wake up and not weep, For joy will come in the day. Let the bridge cover your worries, Let the rain wash away the fear. Let the shoulders hold your furies. Let the sunshine bring you cheer. Shoulders holding you high. Arms shielding you from danger. May you never have to cry, On top of the mountainous glacier.

Two things immediately happen when you use God’s Word as a prayer source. First, you are strengthened within your soul. God’s Word is powerful (Heb. 4:12). It reveals the message of His heart written just for you. If you are weary from the battles of life, the Word of God is a minister of hope and truth. It is God breathed; therefore, it has the ability to refresh and renew the downtrodden.

A Prayer Our Father, you are the strength of your people, and we ask now that you would heal the brokenhearted among us and bind up their wounds. We ask that you would grant to them and to all else the vision of that life in which all tears are wiped away and all shadows have fled away. Raise us up in your Spirit’s power now to follow you in hope and trust, and give us your loving power to protect us, your wise power to nurture us, your beauty to enrapture us, your peace to fulfill us, and lift up our hearts in the light and love of your presence. And we ask in the name of the one who is the Resurrection and the Life, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Prayer is the lifting up of the heart to God. All words of prayer, without this lifting up of the heart, are mere hypocrisy. Whenever, therefore, you attempt to pray, see that your one design is to commune with God, to lift up your heart to him, to pour out your soul before him. (John Wesley)

I’ll take watch.” “Sleep, I’ll do it.” I stood. “So he can cut my throat?” She huffed, pulling the idols of her sister and her father from inside her vest. “You’re a fool if you think I’m going to sleep this close to a Riki.” She turned and stalked off into the dark, leaving us. Fiske worked at the fire as if he hadn’t heard her, his face lit up. “She doesn’t trust you.” I handed him another piece of wood. “None of them will.” Behind us, in the darkness, I could hear the faint sound of Mýra’s prayers. He sat against the tree, taking the axe from his back so he could lean into it. “Do you trust me?” His face was hard. Unreadable, like always. “Yes.” His eyes lifted to meet mine and they looked into me. The way they had in Hylli.

Hammer To Fall" "Here we stand or here we fall History won't care at all Make the bed, light the light Lady Mercy won't be home tonight You don't waste no time at all Don't hear the bell, but you answer the call It comes to you as to us all We're just waiting for the hammer to fall Oh, every night and every day A little piece of you is falling away But lift your face the western way Build your muscles as your body decays Toe your line and play their game Let the anaesthetic cover it all 'Til one day they call your name You know it's time for the hammer to fall Rich or poor or famous For your truth it's all the same Lock your door, the rain is pouring Through your window pane Baby, now your struggles All in vain For we who grew up tall and proud In the shadow of the mushroom cloud Convinced our voices can't be heard We just wanna scream it louder and louder and louder What the hell we fighting for? Just surrender and it won't hurt at all Just got time to say your prayers While you're waiting for the hammer to, hammer to fall

Does he or she pray? Not just in church and not just with you, but on his or her own? If not, you’ll walk through life without the prayerful support of the person who knows you best. You’ll be the only one supporting your kids in prayer. You’ll be married to someone who isn’t opening himself or herself up to God’s conviction, encouragement, and support. If your spouse gets depressed, you’ll have to lift this person up on your own, since he or she won’t know how to go to God. If you get depressed, you’ll have to find another friend to prayerfully support you because your spouse won’t know how. If your husband or wife develops bad attitudes toward you or cultivates sinful habits and isn’t spending time in prayer to be convicted by God, those attitudes and habits will grow stronger and possibly threaten your marriage. At least 90 percent of the changes I’ve made in my marriage have come through God convicting me in prayer and Bible study rather than Lisa confronting me. If I didn’t pray very often, Lisa would be a much less satisfied spouse. If you marry someone who prays, you can place your hope in God’s conviction instead of your nagging (which never works). A woman once told me that she feels so much safer when she knows her husband is praying and in the Word. She doesn’t have to ask him if he’s doing this—she can tell by his attitude, his actions, the tone of his voice, his overall demeanor. And knowing he is regularly connecting with God gives her a peace and security that she treasures. Notice what she’s saying: the same man is a different husband when he becomes a praying husband. How do you know if your boyfriend or girlfriend is praying? Ask yourself, does he ever bring up things God is encouraging him with or does she mention what God is challenging her on? Are you always the one mentioning what God is teaching you, convicting you of, or helping you to understand? If your boyfriend or girlfriend never talks about God, he or she is probably not talking to God.

23Jesus said to him, “If you are able! All things can be done for the one who believes.” 24Immediately the father of the child cried out,v “I believe; help my unbelief!” 25When Jesus saw that a crowd came running together, he rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, “You spirit that keeps this boy from speaking and hearing, I command you, come out of him, and never enter him again!” 26After crying out and convulsing him terribly, it came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, “He is dead.” 27But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he was able to stand. 28When he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, “Why could we not cast it out?” 29He said to them, “This kind can come out only through prayer.”w

One of the best ways I've found for holding on even when our prayers are not answered is to reach out to others. If your suffering is a burden, reach out to ease that of someone else and bring hope to them. Lift them up so that they will be comforted with theknowledge that they are not alone in their suffering, offer compassion when you need it. Be a friend when you need friendship. Give hope when you most need it.

One of the best ways I've found for holding on even when our prayers are not answered is to reach out to others. If your suffering is a burden, reach out to ease that of someone else and bring hope to them. Lift them up so that they will be comforted with the knowledge that they are not alone in their suffering, offer compassion when you need it. Be a friend when you need friendship. Give hope when you most need it.

O Lord, hear my prayer; Give ear to my supplication in Your truth; Answer me in Your righteousness; 2 Do not enter into judgment with Your servant, For no one living shall become righteous in Your sight. 3 For the enemy persecuted my soul; He humbled my life to the ground; He caused me to dwell in dark places as one long dead, 4 And my spirit was in anguish within me; My heart was troubled within me. 5 I remembered the days of old, And I meditated on all Your works; I meditated on the works of Your hands. 6 I spread out my hands to You; My soul thirsts for You like a waterless land. (Pause) 7 Hear me speedily, O Lord; My spirit faints within me; Turn not Your face from me, Lest I become like those who go down into the pit. 8 Cause me to hear Your mercy in the morning, For I hope in You; Make me know, O Lord, the way wherein I should walk, For I lift up my soul to You. 9 Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord, For to You I flee for refuge. 10 Teach me to do Your will, for You are my God; Your good Spirit shall guide me in the land of uprightness. 11 For Your name's sake, O Lord, give me life; In Your righteousness You shall bring my soul out of affliction. 12 In Your mercy You shall destroy my enemies; You shall utterly destroy all who afflict my soul, For I am Your servant.

Your heart is set on meditating on the Lord's precepts, contemplating His ways, and delighting in His Word. Your eyes are open to the truths of God, even in the night watches, and His law is your meditation all day long. You find joy in the Lord's statutes, and His works are the wonder of your heart. Your hands are lifted up to His commandments, which you love, and you meditate on the book of the law day and night. As you remember the days of old and muse on the work of God's hands, you are blessed with wisdom, guidance, and a deeper walk with the Lord. You are satisfied with God's favor and filled with His blessings. As a seed of Abraham through Jesus Christ, you receive the blessing of Abraham, and God multiplies you like the stars of heaven and the sand of the shore. Showers of blessing are upon your life, and every curse sent your way is turned into a blessing. You are chosen by God and blessed, and His face shines upon you. Your life yields increase, and the ends of the earth fear Him. You walk in God's favor, and your enemies do not triumph over you, for you are blessed and favored by the Lord.

Let’s pray…For the Faithful Who Feel Forgotten. They are doing the best they can and it just seems like they can’t catch a break. Dear Heavenly Father, We lift up those who are walking in integrity, sowing in tears, and standing in faith—even when the harvest feels delayed. You see their quiet sacrifices, their unseen obedience, and their persistent hope. Remind them today that You are not unjust to forget their labor of love. Let them feel Your nearness when the silence is loud. When they can’t trace Your hand, help them trust Your heart. When doors seem shut, whisper that favor is forming behind the scenes. We declare that their “almost” season is turning into “already.” You are the God who rewards openly what was done faithfully in secret. Let breakthrough interrupt their waiting. Let joy invade their weariness. In Jesus’ name, amen. Scripture: Hebrews 6:10 (NKJV) “For God is not unjust to forget your work and labor of love which you have shown toward His name…” This verse is a divine receipt—proof that heaven has recorded every act of faithfulness. Affirmation: I Am Seen, I Am Sown, I Am Rising “I am not overlooked. I am not forgotten. I am a seed in God’s soil, and my harvest is inevitable. What I’ve done in faith will not return void. I trust God’s timing even when I don’t understand His methods. Favor is finding me.” Declaration: The Delay Is Not Denial—It’s Divine Setup “I declare that every ‘no’ was a setup for a better ‘yes.’ Every closed door was divine redirection. I am not stuck—I am stationed. God is working behind the scenes, and my name is being mentioned in rooms I haven’t entered yet. I will not faint. I will not fold. I will flourish in due season, and it’s closer than I think.

Special prayer for those who are suffering from any addictions and depression: “Father, I thank You that addiction is not their identity. I declare that all people all over the world with any kind of addition are not bound—they are beloved. I speak divine interruption into every cycle of destruction. Let Your Spirit arrest every craving and replace it with hunger for righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. Send laborers into their path, dreams into their sleep, and conviction into their choices. I declare that they will live and not die, and they will proclaim the works of the Lord. Let the chains fall. Let the fog lift. Let the prodigals come home. I come boldly, not because I feel strong, but because You are. I lift up every heavy thought, every silent ache, every invisible battle. I declare that their minds are not a battlefield—it is holy ground. Let every lie be silenced by truth. Let every shadow be pierced by Your light. Where despair tries to settle, let joy erupt. Where confusion whispers, let clarity roar. I speak divine alignment over their thoughts, emotions, and spirit. Let them feel Your nearness, not just know it. Let them rest in Your embrace, not just reach for it. Depression has no dominion over them. Peace is their portion. Joy is their inheritance. Hope is their anthem.” In Jesus’ name, Amen!

Great morning! Hallelujah! We got another one y’all! I’m so grateful hallelujah! Let’s pray: I decree and declare that this is: The Day of Divine Recovery Dear Heavenly Father, We awaken grateful for Your mercy, Clothed in the promise of newness. This day is not ordinary—it is anointed. We declare it holy ground, Where miracles walk and wonders whisper. We thank You for the breath in our lungs, For the chance to rise again, To forgive again, To believe again. You are the God who never gets tired of loving us. You specialize in second chances— And today, we receive ours with joy. Lord, we lift up those whose hearts are heavy with loss. Let Your comfort be tangible, Like warm oil over weary souls. Let strength rise in the silence, And let Your nearness be undeniable. You are the Resurrection and the Life— Even in grief, You are still good. Even in sorrow, You are still sovereign. We release yesterday’s weight. We silence the voice of shame. We step into this day with holy boldness, Expecting divine reversals, Unexpected favor, And supernatural encounters. Let laughter return to dry places. Let creativity erupt like a fountain. Let healing flow like a river. And let this day be marked by Your glory. We are not forgotten. We are not behind. We are chosen—again. In Jesus’ mighty name, Amen!

I feel this heavy in my spirit: A Prayer for Our Pressured Youth Let’s pray! Father, in the mighty name of Jesus, We lift up this generation—our sons and daughters, nieces and nephews, grandchildren, godchildren, students and dreamers—who are walking through a world heavy with expectation, comparison, and noise. You see the pressure they face: to perform, to please, to be perfect. You see the silent battles behind their smiles, the weariness behind their achievements. We declare peace over their minds. We speak rest into their souls. We release them from the burden of proving their worth, and remind them that they are already loved, already chosen, already enough. Let Your voice be louder than the pressure. Let Your presence be their safe place. Let Your joy be their strength when the world feels too heavy. Raise up mentors, encouragers, and prophetic voices who will speak life into them. Give them courage to say “no” to what drains them and “yes” to what heals them. May they walk in divine timing, not worldly urgency. We declare: They will not break under pressure. They will rise with purpose. They will flourish in grace. In Jesus’ name, Amen. And…it is so!

All thoughts and feelings are valid material for prayer. Simply put: when you go to pray, lift up what is inside of you at that moment. If you are bored, lift up that boredom; if you are angry, lift up your anger; if you are sexually obsessed, lift up your sexual fantasies; if you are tired, lift up that tiredness; if you feel selfish, do not be afraid to let God see that. Jesus said that we must become like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven. One of the qualities in children to which this refers is precisely their honesty in showing their feelings. Children do not hide their selfishness, sulks, pouts, and tantrums.

Lord, help me to maintain a heart of worship constantly throughout the day. I know You are worthy of a never-ending love song, and I’d like to lift it up to You. Help me with the activities of today, that I may focus on the needful things while keeping the eyes of my heart on You through worship. Help me to praise You continually, as You deserve. Fill me with Your presence. I want to sit in Your presence all day today, even as I work. As I worship You quietly, inwardly inhabit my praise so that I may be graced with your presence throughout the day.

Beatrice Send out the singers—let the room be still; They have not eased my pain nor brought me sleep. Close out the sun, for I would have it dark That I may feel how black the grave will be. The sun is setting, for the light is red, And you are outlined in a golden fire, Like Ursula upon an altar-screen. Come, leave the light and sit beside my bed, For I have had enough of saints and prayers. Strange broken thoughts are beating in my brain, They come and vanish and again they come. It is the fever driving out my soul, And Death stands waiting by the arras there. Ornella, I will speak, for soon my lips Shall keep a silence till the end of time. You have a mouth for loving—listen then: Keep tryst with Love before Death comes to tryst; For I, who die, could wish that I had lived A little closer to the world of men, Not watching always thro’ the blazoned panes That show the world in chilly greens and blues And grudge the sunshine that would enter in. I was no part of all the troubled crowd That moved beneath the palace windows here, And yet sometimes a knight in shining steel Would pass and catch the gleaming of my hair, And wave a mailèd hand and smile at me, Whereat I made no sign and turned away, Affrighted and yet glad and full of dreams. Ah, dreams and dreams that asked no answering! I should have wrought to make my dreams come true, But all my life was like an autumn day, Full of gray quiet and a hazy peace. What was I saying?    All is gone again. It seemed but now I was the little child Who played within a garden long ago. Beyond the walls the festal trumpets blared. Perhaps they carried some Madonna by With tossing ensigns in a sea of flowers, A painted Virgin with a painted Child, Who saw for once the sweetness of the sun Before they shut her in an altar-niche Where tapers smoke against the windy gloom. I gathered roses redder than my gown And played that I was Saint Elizabeth, Whose wine had turned to roses in her hands. And as I played, a child came thro’ the gate, A boy who looked at me without a word, As tho’ he saw stretch far behind my head Long lines of radiant angels, row on row. That day we spoke a little, timidly, And after that I never heard the voice That sang so many songs for love of me. He was content to stand and watch me pass, To seek for me at matins every day, Where I could feel his eyes the while I prayed. I think if he had stretched his hands to me, Or moved his lips to say a single word, I might have loved him… Ornella, are you there?    I cannot see— Is every one so lonely when he dies? The room is filled with lights—with waving lights— Who are the men and women ’round the bed? What have I said, Ornella?    Have they heard? There was no evil hidden in my life, And yet, and yet, I would not have them know— Am I not floating in a mist of light? O lift me up and I shall reach the sun!

Jesus, I’ve Suffered in Silents These years I was lonely, but it’s clear I want her only. This love is getting the best of me, all of me, baby, can’t you see? the touch of her skin. Where do I begin? This love’s a place I’ve never known. Dear Lord, thank you, for this mountain I could climb. Lost in a haze of doubt, feeling without, now, love has filled my heart. I found my way, out of the storm. {CHORUS} Jesus, I’ve suffered in silents, and you’ve took away my pain. I come running back to you to show me the way. If I can’t kiss her, then what can I do? The tastes of her lips still linger, if she only knew. Lord, my hands, wrap them around her heart, let her see any promises I made; she won’t live without. Lord, you’ve answered my prayers so many times, through heart break, broken pieces that fell astray, you’ve dried my tears, put them together, again. Oh, my Lord. I’ve prayed for her, now’s she’s here can you wash away my fears? There’s been so many times, my hearts left empty, no matter how much of me I give. The weight on my heart is lifted with the touch of her hand, only you dear Lord, can understand. Thinking of this love brings me to my knees. Yet, this blanket of my past won’t keep my mind at ease. {CHORUS} Jesus, I’ve suffered in silents, and you’ve took away my pain. I come running back to you to show me the way. If I can’t kiss her, then what can I do? The tastes of her lips still linger, if she only knew. Lord, my hands, wrap them around her heart, let her see any promises I made; she won’t live without. There’s strength on top of this mountain you gave me to climb; I won’t be torn up anymore. I watch her eyes follow me wherever I go. So clear, and kind, Lord, I’m letting you know. This love’s getting the best of me. What a wonderful feeling when she said, my eyes are a different kind of blue, oh baby. When she looks at me that way, it feels like a love I always knew. A dream come true! {Instrumental} The stains of my tattered past, kept to myself, while the weight of my life bears down. I’ve crossed a thousand miles, fell along the way, everything I’ve learned brought me to this day. There’s no questions no doubt. Lord, there’s times It’s me who stands in my way. The reflection of scars still healing, dear Jesus you’ll find me knelling. While the darkness on the walls fade away. Again, I lift my arms, and reach up to pray. {CHORUS} Jesus, I’ve suffered in silents, and you’ve took away my pain. I come running back to you to show me the way. If I can’t kiss her, then what can I do? The tastes of her lips still linger, if she only knew. Lord, my hands, wrap them around her heart, let her see any promises I made; she won’t live without. Oh, if I can’t kiss her then what will I do? Baby! if I can’t kiss you then what will I do? Ron Baratono (written 6-27-25)

40 Gated Community, October 2016 The time was eight thirty and the sun shone from a cloudless sky down onto the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum, more familiarly abbreviated as the Arb. Gunnar Person, the senior gardener in the botanical gardens, registered that it looked like they were in for a fine autumn day. He stepped down from the golf cart and crossed the grass in the direction of a stand of trees. He liked an early start, liked being the first man at work. But today it looked like someone had beaten him to it. The park was fenced in, and it had opening hours, but the fence was low and the park covered a huge area. If someone wanted to get in, they got in. Right now the park was hosting a sculpture exhibition, with pieces on display across the whole area. They showed animals that looked like they were made out of folded paper. Origami, they called it. Only these were made of metal and they were life-sized. If you could say of such literally fabulous creatures that they had a life-size. Like that rearing, winged Pegasus Gunnar was headed for. But as Gunnar got closer, he saw that the figure of a large man had been placed on the horse’s back. He was half naked, and Gunnar was thinking it was probably something to do with someone’s stag party. The figure was held in place by the wings, with the upper body and shoulders resting against the horse’s neck. There was no way it was a comfortable position to sleep in, but the man was probably so drunk he didn’t notice. “Hey there!” Gunnar called in a loud, cheery voice. “Time to wake up!” The figure on the horse didn’t move. Gunnar felt uneasy. There was something…well, something dead about it. The man’s head had evidently slipped down over the far side of the origami-like horse’s neck and couldn’t be seen. Gunnar walked around it. His first thought was that he must have made a mistake, for there was no head there either. Then he saw the red stub of neck sticking up from the collar of the man’s shirt. He gasped for breath and started saying the Lord’s Prayer as he fumbled for his phone, found it and tapped in the emergency number. While it was ringing he looked around for any sign of the head but saw nothing. He returned his gaze to the sculpture again, in all its grotesque horror an arresting and almost poetic sight. Almost as though the horse was about to lift off and fly the headless man up to heaven.