It’s 1979 and I was very lost. Not physically but really, deeply lost emotionally and spiritually. I thought I had made choices in life to set me up for recognition, success, value, social and economic status, a “happily ever after life” when I left home at age 21 to marry a man that I met in high school. After four years of feeling unloved, unwanted, and pretending that “everything was okay” to my friends and family, I found myself tired of being sick and tired, tired of the battles to know who I was as a woman, a wife, a friend….one of God’s kids…even though I was very far from Him. In fact, until 1979 I realized I was only pretending to know Who God was. Ash Wednesday 1979 changed my entire life. Everything.

When I left my marriage of four years, after a short time living with a friend, I moved back into my childhood home. Fortunately, a bed was still in my “old” bedroom and I soon fell into a new rhythm of living with parents, going to my full time job, all while transitioning from being married to returning to single life that came with an adjective that caused a lot of pain–divorce. After the initial shock of my new found circumstances, my parents rallied around me and we began this new life as a family of three, making many mistakes–mostly me–as we trudged our way through each day not really knowing how to always act or what to say. Coming home at age 24 was difficult. I had grown used to coming and going as I pleased–for the most part. I had given up all household chores but that didn’t mean my mother let me off the hook! On the contrary, coming home didn’t exactly earn me a free ride.

Coming home also meant being part of my parents’ routine, especially since my move in date to my old bedroom came right before the Lenten Season in the church year. My home church–which I had not been inside of since my wedding except a couple times–hosted a mid week lunch on Wednesdays during Lent with an evening service. Mom and dad attended both and soon I joined them, mainly for the free meal and to be around people who would turn out to be positive influences in my emotional and spiritual healing. So, the Sundays I attended church with my parents, which led into Lent carved a path laid out by God and one that shook my world.

Please imagine that you can see me sitting in the pew, several rows from the front of a very large sanctuary that can easily seat 750 people. On this night, Ash Wednesday 1979 there were probably less than 200 people in attendance. I’m next to my mother and Pastor Jim is giving the message. I don’t remember at all what his text was, what he taught us but I distinctly heard one sentence that he said…”Jesus died for your sins”. How many times had I heard that simple truth since my confirmation years at age 14? My usual response that I muttered to myself upon such a statement was to say (huffing with pride) “ya, for y’all, because all of you are pretty messed up….” THIS time,  that familiar pride didn’t kick in along with a haughty inside laugh. What happened instead is that it was as though I was the only person in the room and God allowed me to hear “corporate” YOU become “personal” YOU, YOU Susan. YOU. My entire body took notice when I comprehended what I’d just heard and if acknowledging my emptiness and need for a Savior wasn’t enough, God sealed the experience with a deposit of the Holy Spirit that started at my lower back, traveled up my spine, causing me to literally shake my shoulders and head as though trying to shake off a chill. I looked around to see if anyone noticed what had just happened. Nope. That brief moment was between me and God and honestly, I’m not sure I understood the massiveness in the mere seconds He touched me. Confirmations would come later and new spiritual senses would allow me to fully understand the new work that had begun in me. I didn’t tell anyone about my experience. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how people would respond. Would they think I was crazy? The Holy Spirit wasn’t exactly Top 10 teaching topics in my church at that time. I didn’t even tell my parents. This was something special and admittedly, scary. An unknown totally foreign to me.

When we got home from church that evening, we settled into watching TV–lots of 700 Club episodes in my weeks back home–probably had a cup of tea and a light snack–the three of us cozied up in the living room, bedtime somewhere 10 and 11. For some odd reason my mother came to my room that night to tuck me into bed, this 24 year old daughter of hers that had caused her a lot of prayer, tears, arguments, and truthfully–shame. I layed under the covers that night, waiting for sleep to come as mom sat on the edge of my bed, her beautiful hands and long fingers stroking my hair, pushing strands away from my forehead with her gentle strokes. While loving on me with such tenderness she asked “Is it good to be home?” Before I could answer, God deposited another spiritual truth into my spirit…I was experiencing TWO kinds of home….the house I grew up in since 1954…and God’s home….salvation, made possible only through His Son Jesus Christ. Mom was asking how it felt to be back with her and dad…God was asking if it felt good to finally be a part of His family…..Still trying to process everything that I knew had changed for me that night in church, I answered my mom, “yes, it’s good to be home…as I recalled the tingling up my spine…God’s physical manifestation of His presence in me.

When I woke the next morning, I headed off to work, still thinking quietly to myself about the night before, and how good I felt. I had renewed hope, joy, peace. Other than being thankful for having these new emotions to explore, I didn’t give a lot of thought to this “Jesus thing”. But God wasn’t finished letting me know that change had indeed taken place. Steve F.,one of our vice presidents, approached me near my desk and said–finger pointing at my face–”you’ve changed. You’ve done something different with your makeup. You look different today.” I stood there laughing, defending myself! “No, nothing’s different. Same ole me”. We both laughed and went back to our desks. Wait. Wait. “Wait”, I told myself. Something DID happen. First I got a Holy Spirit back massage, now I was witnessing a facial from Him too! Looking back, and applying what I know now, my entire countenance had changed. No makeup artistry can do that–well maybe–but in all sincerity only the deep work of the Holy Spirit can produce results that cause others to notice, ask questions, and walk away without any answers that make sense.

So, these 43 years later, I am SO grateful I can still remember my Holy Spirit massage. My “cosmetic makeover”. The gentle strokes of my mother’s hands as she soothed a shameful, hurting child who had also been touched by the Master’s Hands. All because I came home….”Yes, mom. Yes, God, it’s good to be home….

*******

My friend, if you have read this and don’t have a relationship with Jesus, I urge you to simply look up and fix your eyes on things above. Maybe you need to close your eyes. Maybe you need to sit down. Whatever or however you need to do to find quiet, may you do so. And like me, all those years ago, come to a place of humility and accept that YOU are a sinner–all of us are–we ALL fall short of God’s glory…but Grace. Grace and salvation are yours. Ask. Receive. Be welcomed “Home”. If you don’t know how to talk to Jesus, if you aren’t sure about this “Jesus thing”, please contact me. I’d love to talk.

Growing up, I was fascinated with being surprised. Learning new things. I was curious, inquisitive, to the point of driving my parents crazy with all my questions. Looking at my life and personality now…I haven’t changed. I STILL love learning how things are made, how our world was created…trying to wrap my mind around the vast expanse of our universe while trying to comprehend there are no boundary lines. There’s no end, no wall a space traveler could bump into and declare “There! I made it, time to turn around…” I cannot comprehend the concept of infinity and eternity even if I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the wonder and awe trying to answer my curious questions and wonder.

Intertwined with my amazement about our world  is my conceptual understanding that I am living a life that does not hold or entertain “coincidences”. I used to accept seemingly strange or quirky experiences as good fun, an opportunity to shrug my shoulders and laugh them off as a nice lighthearted moment. Not anymore. Before you get worried that something catastrophic happened to change my mind, you need not worry. Actually, my arrival at this place of no longer being surprised or challenged by an unexpected set of circumstances evolved over my 40 years of following Christ, reading scripture, discovering some key passages, and listening to many different biblical teachers.

One of the first scripture verses I encountered when reading through the Psalms was Psalm 37:23. Here, I am using the Common Jewish Bible translation because, well, I like it, ok? It reads: “ADONAI directs a person’s steps, and he delights in his way.”  Other versions say “establishes”, “orders”, “blazed by God”. I’ve used this verse when teaching people that God indeed plans out our day and the very path/direction we are to go. From personal experience, I can tell you it’s pretty cool to be able to look back on a day and see the how’s and why’s of where God took me. I’d like to share a few.

A number of years ago I was headed to Kroger for our weekly grocery trip. On the way I spoke to God out loud, explaining to Him (as if He needed my help) that I had some extra money and would like to shop for some new clothing items. In my mind I thought I’d go to Target but He clearly interrupted my prayer and told me “No, I want you to go to Younkers”. I was caught off guard. I was surprised. “Younkers?” I asked. I reminded him I NEVER shop there…their prices are above my budget. But, as I got closer to the shopping mall,  the leading didn’t leave or fade and next I knew I had parked my car and entered the anchor store at the end of the shopping mall. I made several purchases (they DID fit my budget) which made me happy but I was confused. I obeyed. I went to Younkers but there had been no one, no obvious indication of why I was there. Until I descended the elevator. As I passed the jewelry counter I casually asked the lone clerk, an older woman, “how’s your day going?” Her face turned toward me (I had obviously caught her off guard) and she replied “not so good.”  I stopped, thinking our conversation would be very surface in nature, but before I was fully prepared, she began to pour out her heart to me. Her marriage of nearly 50 years had ended. Her dependence on her husband’s income as his spouse was over. She had taken the sales position at Younkers in an effort to begin providing for herself, start over….anyone who’s been through the trauma of an unwanted divorce can understand. I had some experiences similar to her as well as our daughter. I drew from those paths to let her know that she’d be okay, that God heals, restores, and provides in ways we cannot imagine. She thanked me for encouraging her and we said our goodbyes. I thought I was headed to Target but God knew a beautiful woman in Younkers needed His message of love, hope, and encouragement.

When our children were elementary school age, we took them to a waterpark in Michigan for a one day excursion. We enjoyed all the attractions the park had to offer under a hot summer sun which included floating down the “Lazy River”, a winding path that soothed tired muscles and allowed complete enjoyment with little to no effort. All four of us liked the river; it was a perfect ending to our day, and added to laughter and great memories we looked forward to sharing during the almost two hour drive home. We got our hot tired bodies to the car waiting for my husband to let us in, toss in our bags, but to OUR surprise, the car keys were not in the pocket of the shorts he had worn all day….yup. The car keys enjoyed every water ride he went on….and now they were gone. We made our way to the park office to ask (literally cry) for help. “Oh, this happens so often”, she said. “Chances are your keys are in the Lazy River. It’s easy!” she said. “Just walk backwards in the river while running your foot along the bottom edge of the wall. If they are there, the current of the water pushes stuff to the side.” We did as she instructed, leaving our two kids sitting at a table by themselves. I’ll spare you with the number of people who said “hey, do you know you’re going backwards?” “Whatcha doing?”….Every memory from the waterpark has faded except that one and the conversation with our kids at the park table eating a slice of pizza while we waited for a locksmith to arrive. My husband was angry at himself. I was tired and by now trying to entertain two kids who were anxious to get home. As we discussed our current situation, it was our daughter who spoke up and said very confidently “Well, maybe dad lost the keys so we’d have to stay here longer. Maybe there’s a bad accident on the expressway God is saving us from.”  My husband and I looked at her, looked at each other, and without hesitation we agreed. How could we argue with a youngster who was paying attention to important lessons being taught not only by us, but by others at church.

Perhaps the most poignant teaching I learned about “coincidences” was from Rabbi Daniel Lapin, a biblical scholar I’ve come to enjoy. In a short YouTube video, he teaches there is NO Hebrew word for coincidence because with God there are NO such thing–everything He does is with purpose. When I heard that I had an aha moment and tied it right back to Psalm 37:23. Thanks to Lapin’s teaching I’ve got a richer understanding now as I think about my day, what I will do, where I might go, the journey to get there…who will I meet? What will my message be? Where are we going, God? I’m willing to listen, willing to obey, willing to go. But, please, no more lost car keys, ok? Unless You may be protecting me from something that I may never know about other than to know You are good. You love me. You establish, order, blaze…each day and path. 

What to do when my writing mind is blank. Empty. Nada. There’s NOTHING coming to mind to write about on a cold sunny day here in mid Michigan. Earlier in the morning, I was under the supple caring hands of my massage therapist who knows that I write a blog post every week and he asked me “what are you going to write about this week, Sue?” I responded “I have no clue”. Bryan laughed and quickly suggested that I could always put together an article describing all the wonderful conversations we have while he performs his magic on my tough joints and muscles. Most folks don’t chat much during a massage; I guess I’m an exception.

 Bryan is a very interesting young man, married with three daughters. He’s former military and enjoyed a past career as a personal trainer. He’s also an avid Civil War historian and has participated in reenactments of several battles along with being an extra in a movie about those years in our nation. Bryan knows world and political history, too, which impresses me immensely because my brain doesn’t hold onto details like his kind of mind. We try to keep our conversations “light” during my monthly massage appointment with him, but inevitably we spend at least 30 minutes trying to figure out and solve the angst we share from reading current news headlines or listening to media reports. Before you think all those conversations are the center of our connection with one another, I need to point out there’s so much more that we enjoy about each other. 

If I had a cheerleader, I think  it could be Bryan. I mean, every time I walk through the doors of the massage clinic, he’s waiting for me…to greet me with a big smile and warm hug. He’s been my therapist for over a year now and we hit it off immediately. Bryan knows that as a guy he’s in a minority giving massage to women and from my very first experience to this morning’s, he always thanks me for trusting him…he always describes what he needs to do and “get to” in order to bring release to a tight muscle….and he’s the only guy I don’t chastise for calling me ma’am about 15 times in the span of an hour. His integrity and level of respect is a breath of fresh air in a society where not many people even hold doors open for a stranger these days. When he talks about his wife and their three daughters, the love in his voice changes. His devotion, care, and concern for them is always reflected in how he talks about “my girls”….

Bryan and I have discussed a broad range of topics…God…the science of massage…the different wars our country has fought…the media…Covid…family…politics…living in a small town…being a positive person in hard times…we’ve pretty much covered it all. He has opened up and told me things about himself that otherwise  might be kept silent in his own memories but it’s apparent as much as I trust him, he is trusting me.

I guess it’s apparent that I took Bryan’s suggestion and wrote about our relationship! While it’s humbling to hear that he tells me EVERY Tuesday how happy he gets when he sees my name on the schedule, the feelings are mutual. I always look forward to my time with Bryan and not because of the work he does on my body but how he sincerely makes me feel valuable to him as a person and not only a client. I think that’s the kind of feeling most people crave when establishing a connection with a professional i.e. their doctor, dentist, stylist…..yup, Bryan makes me feel comfortable–important–valued–respected–and sees me as a source of knowledge, wisdom, trust, and encouragement. Little did I know that when I agreed to have “the new guy” perform my monthly massage that I’d be in a place of feeling lost if he’s not working the week I come in, which has happened two or three times this past year. Covid. Quarantines. His family vacation to Disney in January….he’s back! I’m back! And our “deep” conversations have resumed along with hitting those tight spots with some extra “deep” work of their own. 

I think everyone needs a Bryan. If you’re in the Fowlerville area, hit me up and I’ll make the connection. You can enjoy Bryan, too, except on Tuesday, mid month or so at 9 am. That’s our time….

Name your ambitions! This morning, when I opened my current Bible devotional to enjoy, that was one of the declarative statements being made by the author of the series “Dream Big”. Who doesn’t like to dream big things? Who doesn’t want fame or fortune? Who doesn’t want a place of prominence in their community or to be famous for something. Is life about more than those things? Especially as we leave childhood  innocence behind and  walk into adulthood with hopefully more wisdom, knowledge, and an awareness of how God has gifted us with talents and resources? Scripture certainly gives us a glimpse at what kinds of people will always be among us and what our response should be. (See Matthew 25: 34-40)

Who doesn’t want to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit those who are in prison or have become widowed…needs are all around us with endless opportunities to be someone’s answer to a prayer of desperation. Let’s face it, life is hard for all of us sometimes. But, on the flip side, maybe you’ve never known hardship. If that’s you, well, hallelujah! Because our communities are full of people with needs that go beyond what a mere glance at their circumstances often reveals. I love how Deuteronomy 15 instructs how to help the poor among us…”do not be hardhearted or tightfisted toward them. Rather, be open handed and freely lend them whatever they need.” Later, “give generously..do so without a grudging heart…”.

My ambitions from my younger adult years were pretty selfish. I wanted the perfect husband, large home, wealth, ability to travel, great profession, kids….How those ambitions turned out is a topic for another day. Let’s just say being selfish and self centered didn’t land me everything on the list. But God. Fast forward to where I’m at NOW–age 68–a whole lot smarter, wiser, and less selfish/self-centered (well, let’s say I’m a work in progress on that) and my ambitions have changed. Oh, I do have a near perfect husband. Our home is very modest. We HAVE traveled and plan to embark on more journeys. I had some great years in a variety of work careers; our kids are also near perfect and have given us four REAL cool grandkids. Our wealth? We’ve lived in feast and famine. Famine caused us to take a real honest look at how we used our money and after about three years of applying Dave Ramsey’s tools for how we use our money, we became debt free! In March of 2020 we paid off our mortgage, thus freeing up that monthly payment to be used for other things! Fortunately, God yoked two people together who want to be generous givers, so since 2020 we’ve been able to feed hungry families, help pay utility bills, and cover miscellaneous expenses for friends in need. All these things are good–and hopefully we continue to see more opportunities to help–but deep down I know there is more that God may ask me/us to do for our community and world…

In the closing paragraph of todays’ devotion Goff wrote: “When you start to acknowledge and name the ambitions that are rumbling around inside you, they open up a new vista of what life was meant to be–full of passion and purpose”. When I read that over and over and over, I am able to release my childhood dreams and replace them with new ones–this time ones that include the hungry, the naked, the poor, the widowed, the prisoner…using resources provided by God my Provider. Proverbs 21: 5: “The plans of the diligent lead to profit as surely as haste leads to poverty.”  I don’t know about you, but I’m planning to push into plans that are diligent all while keeping my eyes and ears wide open for people to serve. 

This morning I find myself tucked inside one of my favorite kind of days. I’m home. Though the sky is gray and the temperature is a low 32 degrees, a gentle snowfall is taking place outside my window. Tree branches and shrubs are sagging under the weight of the snow’s heaviness. Yesterday’s tracks through the yard along with muddy patches from previous warmer days are now covered over with a blanket of fresh, pure white flakes, creating yet another picturesque scene suitable for a calendar photo. Kids in our community and surrounding areas have been delighted to hear a “snow day” declared for suspension of attending school. They are in a happy place I’m sure; I know that I am. Though I don’t have anywhere to be today, I am most happy to be home and enjoy not only the beauty of a “snow day” but pause to take a moment and consider those things that give me joy. Another word to substitute for joy is gratitude or thankfulness.

Years ago, I learned the importance of taking time to reflect on what I could be grateful for each day, week, month, or passing year of my life. Obvious things include a home, food, family….while those are indeed important, I like to challenge myself to look beyond the most common things in life and dig deeper to add other items or circumstances to my daily gratitude list–to find joy in big or small occurrences of life. Such was the case the past several days…let me give you a glimpse….

Over the weekend I heard the familiar text notification on my phone. When I opened the message it contained a photo from a dear friend. She had made a snow angel in a beautiful pristine area of her yard. Along with the photo was a lighthearted challenge that stated “your turn”. We are both in our 60s, living life a little bit more stiff and sore around the joints, but our spirits are contrary to society’s message that we “are old”….(I need to make my snow angel soon!)

This past Sunday we visited our son’s family for a couple hours and I spent most of it sitting on the floor with our two grandchildren, ages 3 and almost 2. We looked at a magazine of wild animals together, played with Play Do, changed diapers on several babies, worked on puzzles, and I got at least three shots in my arm. I don’t get up from sitting on the floor very gracefully compared to much younger years, but the fun while down there was totally worth the effort getting up on my feet when it was time to return home. Perhaps, my greatest moment of feeling swelled up with overflowing joy, was catching from the corner of my eye, how our son “looked” at his precious beautiful daughter as she toddled by us in the room, chatting away using all her new words. His “look” didn’t need words to describe his love for her….I think most people know exactly what I’m talking about, right? When I saw that quick, brief connection his eyes made when gazing at her, I melted.

Last evening our granddaughter, who will turn 7 in April, called me via FaceTime to show me her new “workout” leotard. She’s been performing cartwheels and head stands in living rooms across family lines for over a year. Her mom, our daughter, finally located a studio near their home to take her to (report on that later!) and see if she’s a candidate for professional instruction. Hopefully all those cartwheels and other physical feats on her purple workout mat and hardwood floors will give her the payoff she’s been asking for this past year.

These–and so much more–have given me much joy as I was caught up in each moment. Joy was accompanied with gratitude that filled my heart, soul, mind, and spirit. The best part? They didn’t cost me anything other than time, being available, connecting, and appreciating how memories are created using basic methods….talking and laughing….being outside in God’s beauty….watching little children find pleasure in toys and athletic ability…but above all witnessing their desire to be with gramma or show her “my moves, watch this gramma!”

Today, the snow can continue for as long as it needs or desires. I’m tucked inside where it’s nice and warm. We have lots of options for hot beverages to warm the insides as the new snow piles and covers the ground below. My connection to the outside world is low on my list today; I am content to reflect on the past several days that filled my gratitude tank. I’ll find a few things to do around the house, take time this afternoon to relax under a throw blanket while sipping on tea or hot chocolate, and wait….wait for more joy to come my way. Wait for another play day with grands. Wait for another FaceTime call to tell me ALL about showing “my moves”….

Last week I wrote about the rocking chair that belonged to my grandmother, a cherished sitting place for her and anyone visiting her humble home. I have no doubt that many prayers–other than the ones offered on bent knees at her bedside–were uttered while quietly rocking in between household chores.No matter,  wherever grandma was, Jesus was with her, as a constant companion, provider, and strength on days that her eyes were weak and body aches tried to steal her joy.Today, I want to share how grandma viewed the importance of observing the sabbath. When I got old enough to begin being interested in dad’s life growing up on “the farm”, actually sitting still long to listen as he relayed story after story of memorable times, the recollection of attending church came to his mind. I never tired of hearing him repeat…..”Wherever we lived (the family moved several times from upper to lower Michigan) Mother took us kids to the closest church, always within walking distance.” There was no car, no truck…maybe one of the older boys could use the wagon and team of horses? I don’t recall that mode of transportation being included in the story’s description. Not only did the church need to be close by, it also had to be a Bible believing church. On one such occasion that Grandma Sadie was able to “get to church” my dad, Jack, was lovingly admonished “you can’t go with us today, Jack. You have no laces for your shoes.” He was left behind while the older siblings made the trek with her to the small church. In tow would have been Virgil, Joy, Lyle, Russell. 

Something you need to know about my dad is that he was quite the stinker as a boy, very clever, and wasn’t about to be left behind while his family enjoyed a morning of worship and Bible teaching. No sir, he used his ingenuity and found binder twine out in the barn and fashioned a pair of laces to hold his shoes together. Grandma said he looked so proud marching down the center aisle of the church to join her in the pew. Aunt Joy wanted to hide under the pew because of her embarrassment! I can close my eyes and see him at age 4 making his way to the family, a grin on his face from ear to ear….

I’m pretty sure binder twine was a staple tool in grandpa’s barn.

Not the actual pair of shoes Jack would have worn, but I’m quite 

certain very similar to the hand-me-down pair he would have

worn as a poor little boy in the 20s.

As dad would continue to tell the story about attending church, he always added there many Sundays when that wasn’t possible. Someone may have been sick. Maybe the weather held them home. Whatever the reason, any hindrance was never allowed to interfere with reading scripture and spending time in prayer. On those occasions, the small farmhouse living room became church. All the children were required to attend, sitting in a circle at her feet,  Bible in her lap, grandpa seated in a chair with his arms folded across his chest. Ironically, he was not a willing participant in “home church” but if any one of the children–especially the boys–were reluctant to join their gathering, gramp played the “do as I say card”….Grandma would read and lead her children in prayer, always with a joyful and grateful attitude for every good gift provided to the family by Him.

I know my grandmother’s Bible was well worn. I cannot vividly recall seeing her 

actual Bible; I remember grandpa (after becoming a Christian) knew all her

favorite passages which were included in her funeral. 

Fast forward from the family farm established in the 20s to today, another set of 20s, but this time wrapped in blankets of modern technology. Our communities now offer numerous church options, some small, and others referred to as “mega” size. My generation has the privilege of driving any distance we desire to attend a church of our liking. Yet, in rural areas the ability to walk to a nearby congregation still exists for those who prefer a smaller, more intimate worship experience.  Adding to our “no excuses” to be part of Sunday morning services, we can now “livestream” a message which became a huge blessing in 2020 when our communities were shut down/locked up to prevent the onslaught of the Covid 19 virus. My husband and I “tuned in” week after week to be part of our church family…sing with our worship team..and hear God’s Word from our pastor. All from the comfort of our home. 

At first, I grumbled about not being able to physically “go to church”. Soon, I didn’t mind that I didn’t have to change from jammies to day clothes if I felt lazy. Though I missed singing with lots of people, I came to enjoy listening to our praise team, eyes closed, soaking in the beauty of each song. During the sermon I still had my Bible and pen, my journal nearby for note taking.

Today, I’m pondering how “living room church” compares between my dad’s youth in the 20s to my life now in the new 20s….making the effort to be with church family remains…owning and using a well worn Bible is essential….God truly can make a way for us to be part of community when it’s our priority. None of us may never need to hunt down some binder twine to hold old shoes together….or sit on a hard cold floor at the feet of a parent….but hopefully to those of us who truly love the Lord, we would consider making those sacrifices so that we, too, can learn what it means to be joyful and grateful in all of life’s circumstances. After all, some day we ALL will have the glorious opportunity to sit at the feet of our Savior!

So, when you find yourself on any weekend contemplating about making it to church or not, remember how many of our excuses have been removed….if you don’t own a Bible I’m pretty sure you own a smartphone. And guess what? There’s an app for that too!

Having God’s Word at our fingertips is available in the App Store!

From my living room to yours, may you accept the invitation to join your family in worship this weekend, whether in person or via livestream. Wonder what my grandparents would think of how far church has come…..