For the director of music. According to gittith. Of the Sons of Korah. A psalm.
1 How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! 2 My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. 3 Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young— a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. 4 Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you.
5 Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. 6 As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. 7 They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.
8 Hear my prayer, Lord God Almighty; listen to me, God of Jacob. 9 Look on our shield, O God; look with favor on your anointed one.
10 Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked. 11 For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.
12 Lord Almighty, blessed is the one who trusts in you.
Hymn: I’d Rather Have Jesus
Prayer:
Dear Heavenly Father,
We come to You this morning with Thanksgiving in our hearts. Like the sparrows that have found their nests, You give us a safe dwelling place. Not just a physical home, Lord, but a spiritual place where our hearts can rest and be at peace. In this imperfect world, You have created a perfect nest for those of us who trust in You.When our hearts are overwhelmed with fear, help us to trust in You and find our rest.
I pray that You will help us keep our eyes focused on You. May each step we take bring us closer to your presence. May we not drift away when our eyes catch sight of something new.Help us stay close to You and trust in Your goodness. You are at the heart of all we do.We would rather have a relationship with You than anything this world can offer us.
In the name of Your precious Son, we pray.
Amen.
Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.
Today’s featured book is the new YA release by Chrissy Dennis. This book ties in with our monthly theme of “Family.” It is about an eleven-year-old girl in foster care who is placed with a family that shows her love and acceptance.
About the book:
Happily-ever-after doesn’t exist for kids like Gracie—or does it?
Gracie Anderson may only be eleven, but five years in foster care has taught her that happy endings don’t exist in the real world, not for kids like her anyway. And she’s convinced this next foster home will be just as bad as all the others.
Except… it’s not.
The Barkmans are completely different from any family she’s ever known—and she doesn’t trust them one bit because no one is that understanding and compassionate. But no matter how hard Gracie pushes against them, how rude, rebellious, and disrespectful she is toward them, they consistently come back at her with faith, love, and acceptance. And when Gracie’s mom decides not to come back for her, the Barkmans welcome her as one of their own, proving that even someone as damaged as Gracie deserves the love of God and a family.
Excerpt:
“Gracie, stop!”
But Gracie was already smashing everything in sight with a rickety board. The windows shattered. The whole car rocked as she whacked old boards against the walls. Dust flew as she kicked at old barrels. Larry shouted at her, but she didn’t listen. Fury burned her insides as she wreaked havoc on the abandoned boxcar, just like the news of her mother wreaked havoc on her soul. Larry hopped out of the boxcar, maybe to give her space, or maybe because he didn’t want to get hurt.
Or maybe because he knew better than to get in the middle of a Gracie Anderson fit.
A wave of dizziness crashed into her. She dropped the board, swaying. Splinters stabbed her palms. That was nothing compared to the pain inside. The abandonment, the betrayal, the anger swelled like a balloon, and she couldn’t contain it.
As Larry reached into the train car to take her hand, the little energy Gracie had left rose from the pit of her belly, and she let out a howl that echoed off every abandoned train car in the wreckage yard.
About the author:
Chrissy M. Dennis lives in Saskatchewan, Canada with her foster daughters and calico kitty. She is a full-time mom and a part-time administrative assistant for Renovaré Canada. Chrissy also loves to read, crochet and, of course, write, trusting the Lord will use her books for the glory of God and the growth of His kingdom through the healing work of the Gospel.
She carries a Masters of Divinity in Youth and Family Ministry. She loves working with teens, and has felt the call of God to minister to the needs of youth in this culture. She hopes to continue writing, specifically regarding issues relevant to today’s teens, offering a message of salvation and hope. Her first novel, The Lion Cubs, received positive reviews and deals with themes of abuse and abandonment.
In August 2019, five kittens were born to a feral cat who took refuge in our garage. We brought the kittens into the house to tame them and train them for the litterbox, so we could find homes for them. My niece Katie adopted one of the female kittens that we’d named Lila.
A couple of weeks ago, I touched base with Katie to get an update on how Lila was doing.
“Lila sleeps a lot and is scared of other people but she can be very cuddly sometimes. Sometimes she even likes to be held like a baby.”
“Lila has a companion named Peach. They are such opposites. Peach is super friendly, very vocal, and has lots of energy. I don’t have as many pictures of her because she doesn’t sit still often. She also eats a lot and wakes me up whenever she wants wet food.”
“And both of them love jumping up in the windowsill and playing together.”
Thank you, Katie, for the update on Lila and for introducing us to Peach. I’m so glad they’ve found a loving home.
It was a busy weekend here in my hometown. I spent a lot of time on my front deck, listening to music and reading on my Kindle. My dog, Rosie, loves it out there even though I keep her on a leash. When she was a puppy, she liked to run, and we live on a busy road, so we’ve always taken her out on a leash.
There is a belief that the Bible is like that leash. That it binds us to a code of rules that restrict our freedom. That it takes all the fun out of life.
The opposite is true for me. I don’t look at God’s Word as a leash of rigid rules meant to restrict my freedom. The Bible is a guideline for me to live a life that is free from the tangle of relationships and addiction that could negatively impact my health and wellbeing.I became a Christian at the age of ten, and continued on the path of faith through high school, college, and young adulthood. Now in my mid-fifties, I’m still living by the faith and moral principles that I’ve believed in for most of my life.
I’m not perfect, by any means, and my life is not without temptations. But by the grace of God, I’ve never strayed far from my faith. I willingly follow God and allow His presence to guide me. By staying close to Him and the guidelines the Bible sets forth, I’ve stayed free from unhealthy relationships or addictions.
When our neighbor stopped by yesterday and I had the door open, Rosie went out on her own. She didn’t run off, but stayed close to the deck, even without the leash. She willingly came back when I called.When I have stepped off the path of faith, God has always gently called me back. I’ve never been so far away that I couldn’t find my way back to Him.
Today my blog post is a story from a pastor about a young woman who began her walk with God as a teenager with a heart for God, only to lose her way. As the pastor shared the story, he talked about God’s purpose for our lives. This ties in with last week’s post, For Such a Time as This.
“When I was a teenager, I had such a heart for God,” said the woman sitting at the table across from me in her parents’ kitchen.
Her hair was a long, shaggy mass of three colors. A hair treatment gone awry gave her an orangish cast to the ash-blond color. Then it appeared she had tried to fix it with highlights. Her makeup was thick, too heavy for her thin face. She appeared harsh and older than her thirty-three years. She was too thin, perhaps from the addiction to cigarettes that kept one lit in her hands the entire time we sat and talked, one after another. It was most likely from the haphazard way she confessed to eating. Sometimes, she said, she would go two or three days with nothing more than a few drinks and cigarettes.
“What do you mean, you had a heart for God?” I asked.
Tears formed in her eyes as she explained, “I worshipped Him. I thought being a Christian was everything in life. All I needed was Jesus and my faith in Him.”
“And you found that it wasn’t true?” I asked. My voice was gentle. She seemed so fragile. I didn’t want to upset the course of her thoughts.
“No, exactly the opposite.”
Her words threw me a curve. “If you found out it was the opposite, then why didn’t you continue to worship God?”
She took a few puffs on her cigarettes, then with shaky fingers she shoved it into the ashtray and quenched the flame. “I found out too late,” she admitted, hanging her head into her hands.
“It isn’t too late,” I assured her with all of the conviction that my years in the ministry had given me. “It’s never too late to make things right with God.”
She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound that was pitiful to my ears. “I can never make things right. I’ve made poor relationship choices. I’m an alcoholic, and when I can get enough money, I go out and blow it on drugs. I wouldn’t even be here today if it wasn’t for my mother. I always come home to her when I mess up. Only now she’s fighting this cancer.”
“Your mother has faith that if she doesn’t survive the cancer, she will be in heaven, with the Lord,” I reminded her carefully. Her mother was a dear saint whose other two children were thriving members of their church communities, in different cities. This child, the wayward one, had caused heartache for her parents since her late teens, when she walked away from the Lord and went down the road that had brought her to this place. “She would rest easier knowing that you have returned to the faith of your youth.”
She shrugged, and her eyes met mine with her own dulled by years of pain and heartache. “I know. That’s why she called you.”
How could I forget the desperate call at three a.m. from her mother who had found her drunken and half-clothed on her doorstep, her face black-and-blue with bruises from her current boyfriend. I agreed to come, since the chemo treatments her mother was taking gave her no strength to deal with a crisis. The young woman’s father had gone with the police officer to pick up the children from a neighbor’s apartment. We were waiting for them to come home. The mother had gone into her bedroom to rest and, I suspect, pray.
I refilled her coffee cup and handed it to her, and she drank it deeply, as though it were something much stronger and more fortifying.
Where does a young person go so wrong? I asked myself as I sat in the quiet, warm kitchen, praying in my heart for her salvation and safety.
She couldn’t read my thoughts, but it almost felt that she had. “If I had only chosen a different set of friends,” she lamented, leaning back in her chair. “I loved worshipping the Lord, but I also liked living on the edge and reaching out to the ones I thought needed it the most.”
I nodded. I had met many Christians who started out trying to reach their friends for Christ, only to become involved in the sins that they were trying to save them from.
“I went to a few parties. I stayed away from the drinking and drugs, at first,” she admitted. “Then after a while, it was easy to take a few sips of alcohol or try the drugs. I thought it would help me fit in better, make me seem ‘cooler’ so they could accept what I had to witness to them about. Only it did not work out that way.”
“It seldom does,” I said softly, hoping she would not take offense.
She was too weary to become angry. “I always wondered what it would have been like, my life, if I had not fallen in love. It seemed like he would change at first, become a Christian. He went to church with me those first few months. Then we started living together, and he started drinking more. And I started to go to church alone. When I got pregnant, we got married, but it made him even worse. He was angry all the time. He drank more, and I went to church less. Then I stopped going altogether because the guilt consumed me.”
She was lost in thought and we fell silent. We heard the door open, and her father came in with her three children. The first one, who had been the reason for her first marriage, was tall and lean, a young man with a sullen expression and slouched shoulders. He had lived with the brutal reality of alcohol, drugs and abuse. At fifteen, I worried that the influence of his father, and the string of boyfriends who followed the divorce, would cause him to become an angry, abusive boyfriend or husband.
The middle child looked like her mother. She was twelve. Tall and lanky, she had a devil-may-care attitude and a flippant expression, but her eyes were dark and fearful. She was not going to let the world know that she lived in fear for her mother’s, and probably her own, safety.
The third child was a preschooler. She had thick brown hair tied in a fluffy ponytail. She was already showing signs of the problems caused by fetal alcohol syndrome, her grandmother had said.
Of the three, the little one was the only one who came forward when the mother held out her arms, the only one who received a trembling hug. The others hung back. After an awkward moment, the grandfather announced that it was bedtime and led them away. The girls would stay in the spare bedroom, the teenager would occupy the sofa. The young woman would have her old room which held so many memories of her innocence, before her life went awry.
I’d like to say that the lost soul made a commitment to Christ that night and turned her life around for the better. But that was not the case.
She continued to move in and out of abusive relationships and battled alcoholism for the next six years of her life. Then she died of a combination of drugs and alcohol. Her legacy was a twenty-one-year-old son who was addicted to drugs, an eighteen-year-old daughter who was pregnant and in an abusive relationship, and the youngest, a cherub with a learning disability, still in elementary school.
The grandmother recovered from cancer, and she and the grandfather were raising the youngest child and opened their home and hearts to all of their grandchildren.
Though I’ve moved on to another pastorate, I never forgot the words of the young woman who spoke with such pain that night. “I had such a heart for God.”
The heartbeat of my ministry extended from winning lost souls to finding ways to keep the souls that were won from falling into sin. Discipleship, prayer and Bible study, fellowship, communion, all work together to keep a new Christian from falling back into their past sins.
Unfortunately, it is still not enough sometimes. I have seen other young women and men who felt that they needed to conform to the world around them in order to fit in. Although their intentions may have been to reach their friends, they fell into temptations and sin. Sometimes, they are unable to escape that lifestyle. And even if they do, they wear emotional and sometimes physical scars that come from their painful struggles.
Time and again, I remind young people, “God has a plan for your life. Submit your life and your will to God, and He will guide you into that special purpose. It will be all that you ever hoped for, and more. Just hold onto your faith, and look neither to the right nor the left. Walk in fellowship with God. Make Jesus your best friend.”
We lost our young friend to the world and the sin that consumed her. Contrary to her words, it is never too late to go back to God. He welcomes each lost soul with open arms and a loving heart.
The theme for the month of May is “Family.” There are many different types of family, and not all of them are related by DNA. Today’s featured book is about characters who grew up in the foster care system and formed a family of their own.
The author’s inspiration:
Growing up, I imagined getting married someday, having children of my own, and adopting a few as well. I’ve always had a soft spot for the kids who go from foster home to foster home, dreaming of a family. While we have not been in a position to foster or adopt children (our son has severe special needs), I still think about it often. I wanted to write a series focused on adults who grew up in the foster care system and, without biological relatives to count on, formed a family of their own.
About the book:
She’s determined to escape her past. He’s looking to build a future . . . with her. Will she open her heart and let him help, or keep on running alone?
Anna Henderson is guilty of one thing: trusting the wrong man. Now she’s running for her life from an ex-boyfriend who will stop at nothing to find her. The little town of Quintin, Texas seems like the perfect place to lay low, and its quaint little diner may just give her the new start she’s looking for. The more she gets to know the diner’s handsome owner, the more of a connection she feels with him. But she can’t put her heart—or his safety—at risk.
Joel Ash knows all about second chances. After all, he pulled himself out of his rough past and became a successful restaurant owner. So, when a nervous woman walks into his diner looking for a job, he can’t say no—even though he’s convinced she’s hiding something. He soon finds himself falling for the beautiful stranger, and he thinks he may have a real chance at winning her heart. But when Anna’s past catches up with her, both their lives are thrown into turmoil. His only thought is to protect Anna, and their possible future together, at any cost.
Excerpt:
“What are you running from, Anastasia?”
Her mind scattered in all directions. What was she supposed to say? She wasn’t ready to tell him what she was coming from — she might not ever be. Panic welled in her chest and she forced herself to focus on the pressure of his hand on hers. On the way he was lacing their fingers together and then giving a reassuring squeeze.
Mustering every bit of strength she had, she prayed she’d sound casual and said, “Epic and I came here from Utah.”
“Wow, that’s quite a ways. Did Epic ride in the passenger seat the whole time?”
Anna chuckled at that and cast him a sideways look.
“Every last mile.”
Epic heard his name and had trotted back over to them. Anna ran her hand over his warm head.
“What made you stop in Quintin?”
She considered her answer. “I can’t explain it except to say that, from the moment we crossed into town, I felt God was telling me to stop.” She peeked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Does that sound insane?”
“No, it doesn’t.” He stopped and moved to stand in front of her, their hands still linked. “It’s always both humbling, and a relief, when God shows us that he has a plan and is going to help us achieve it.”
Anna couldn’t agree more. Coming to Quintin had certainly been an answer to prayer in more than one way. Now that she had this rental with Brooke, could she hope for some semblance of a normal life? Did she even know what that was?
Joel reached his other hand out and traced the outline of her jaw with a single finger. “I, for one, am grateful you stopped in Quintin instead of driving right through.”
His eyes were intense as he studied her. He curled the same finger under her chin and gently tipped it up. A breath later, he dipped and softly touched his lips to hers. It was the briefest of kisses before he pulled away, his breath warm on her cheek. Then he claimed her lips again, gentle, yet confident.
Anna’s heart beat wildly as if trying to escape the confines of her chest. What if things stayed like this? What if she actually found someone to share her life with?
But could she open herself up to him? Tell him about Liam and what had happened? She didn’t think so. Not now.
Joel must have sensed the change because his lips left hers, hovering mere inches away. “Anastasia?” His gaze contained a mix of concern and confusion.
He deserved answers. He deserved an explanation. And she couldn’t give him one right now. Joel must have seen that in her face because he released a frustrated breath
About the author:
Melanie D. Snitker is a USA Today Bestselling Author who writes inspirational and sweet romance novels. She and her husband live in the beautiful Texas Hill Country with their two children who keep their lives full of adventure. They share their home with two dogs, a guinea pig, two lizards, three frogs, and a toad. In her spare time, Melanie enjoys photography, reading, baking, computer games, and hanging out with family and friends.
Inspirational Author 