I Guess I Have A Lot To Say

When hope is deferred, we  can  become hopeless. The scripture says, “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick...” I’ve experienced this and I’ve seen others experience it as well. It’s usually not that we lose our faith in God - but we can lose a bit of faith in what we believe He promised, when it doesn’t come to pass. It hasn’t happened, so it must not have been from God, we tend to think. However, our attitude determines  everything . So often, we lose our faith due to situations we find ourselves in, other people and sometimes even God, when we don’t see the fruit of our labor or the blessings God has promised in His Word. I think that must be a direct result of a lifestyle where everything comes quickly to us - a “microwave” society — and we’ve come to expect God to be the same --  an “Immediate-Answering-Father.” We’re so off base with that kind of attitude, as God knows us better than we even know ourselves, and whether we understand it or not, He always wants the best for us.

When I was a kid, we were taught that we never addressed an adult by their first name - they were Mr. or Mrs. so-and-so. We understood that it was disrespectful to call them by their first name. That may seem trite to some now, but back in the 50’s and 60’s, you rarely heard about kids shooting others, looting churches or bombing schools. It never even crossed our minds. We were taught to respect our elders, regardless if we agreed with them or not. In many ways, life was just simpler back then. Yes, we drank and used drugs during the "hippie" generation, but the thought of violence or destruction toward others, was for the most part, absent from our thinking. I may have been sassy and talked back to my mom, but when my dad "got home," I was reprimanded and paid a dear price. How things have changed. I was in a store yesterday, trying to check out in a very long, disoriented line, when a dad with his screaming kid, stepped in back of me. I looked at the chil

Every year for our birthdays, no matter how old we were, my mother would call and sing the entire "Happy Birthday" song to my brothers and I, and we would have to suffer through listening to it. If I didn’t answer the phone, she would sing it to the answering machine. There was a time I thought, "OK, enough already - I'm too old for this." In fact, I was too old after the age of 5. But it's funny how that seemingly insignificant and silly song, keeps playing over and over in my head, as I desperately wish I could hear her sing it again. The last time I saw my mom, she didn’t even know who I was, much less remembered my birthday. The woman who gave birth and raised me, became a stranger to her only daughter.  I remember hearing old people say that time is so fleeting and to treasure every moment you have before it’s too late. Unfortunately, I learned this to be true. My mom loved to sing for every situation: arriving, leaving, birthdays, Hannukah, Chr

The person we gossip and complain about, many times have similarities to our own selves, that we may actually disdain, but don’t easily identify. It’s far easier to point the finger at someone else and their faults, than to examine ourselves, recognize and then acknowledge them. Sometimes we behave as if we’ve already reached some kind of pinnacle of perfection, and all “those other people” are poor, pathetic sinners. However, we’re making a judgment call from the “outside,” not fully knowing the extent of the whole matter. How wrong we are to judge anyone else for any reason.  “If I justify myself, mine own mouth shall condemn me: if I say, I am perfect, it shall also prove me perverse.” Job 9:20 KJV I was counseling with one of the pastors recently and something he kept saying really stuck with me. (Actually a LOT stuck with me, and I was incredibly helped by his ministry.) “We’re really “ dirt balls ,” he said, "and nothing more." (His interpretation of the Bibl

I will be 64 this month, and needless to say, I've been friends with and known hundreds of different types of mothers in my lifetime. We're all different in our own way, of course, but I can't stop thinking about this theme that keeps crossing my mind. Let me say at the outset, that I am NOT describing anyone in particular, so please don't be offended if it appears I'm describing you . I'm not. In many ways, this is a reflection of myself and some mothers I've known down through the years. With that said, this is story of two different kinds of mothers. The first mother I'll name "Sophie" (because I don't know anyone by that name, except for a dog I once had). Sophie was raised in a wonderful, loving home by two parents. They weren't wealthy, but they always had what they needed. Sophie was raised to know right from wrong, manners and a general code of ethics of how to treat others. Sophie did well in school - it came easy for her - a

On Wednesday night, Bro. Sanders preached a message that was so deep, it left me searching the very depths of my heart. He spoke about being abused as a five-year-old child and how that experience opened up a door for spiritual darkness to enter in. The entire church was silent as he described his childhood through adulthood, even into his ministry as a pastor. He would preach and minister to the congregation, then return home, only to find "rats" creeping back into his psyche. God would seemingly deliver him, and then those nasty rats kept coming back. He said God showed him that he had to go back to the beginning of when that door of spiritual darkness opened, in order to begin to deal with that pain. He said it was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but knew he had to do this, otherwise, he wouldn't progress further, much less be healed and delivered. He encouraged us all to go back to the beginning of when it was for us - when we allowed, or was thrust upon u