by Nan Jones A six-inch blanket of snow covered our mountain in the color of pristine. The trees and forests, rooftops and vehicles were painted in thick white frosting — beauty beyond description. White, like
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Finding the Christ of Christmas
by Nan Jones I snuggled beneath the woven afghan — the one that reads, The Lord Is My Peace. The den was dark except for the Christmas lights on the tree and the glow of
Read moreOur Great God Holds the Mountains in His Hands, Just as He Holds Me
My gaze landed on the mountaintop in the distance. Blue-purple ribbons of rolling hills surrounded the giant dome. Why are you troubled and weary, Nan? I asked myself. Why so downcast? Put your hope in God, Maker of heaven and earth.
Read moreMultiple Shepherds But One Distinct Voice
On the outskirts of Bethlehem, a grass covered field lay as an emerald gem against the backdrop of mountains surrounding Jerusalem. It’s known as the Shepherd’s Field. Multiple shepherds bring their flocks there to graze and lie down upon the tender grass.
As the sun begins to inch towards the horizon at the closing of the day, each shepherd calls to his sheep. To the observer, there is a cacophony of voices …
Read moreHope Bursts Through a Threatening Cloud of Darkness
A dark cloud approached on the horizon — a deep charcoal, threatening cloud signaling a storm with significant rain and fierce winds. The gray veil of the beginning drizzle began to settle over the mountain valley as the wind began its assault.
I sipped my coffee as I watched the sultry clouds deepen over the ridge.
Read moreAmerica under siege and the Faithful Shield of God
I closed my eyes against the forceful fears of the Coronavirus, the racial unrest, and the threat of America becoming a nation I don’t recognize. Quietly I spoke, “Jesus … Jesus … ”
There really is something about that Name.
Read moreThe Father of Lights Has No Shadow of Turning
Sunlight blazed from the summer sky filling the earth with heaven’s light. Blue and I walked along our country road — Blue sniffing out critters, me whispering prayers and finding refuge beneath my Father’s wing.
The Spirit of God made His Presence known all about me as the gentle breeze whispered through the pines.
Read moreWhen Haggard Praise Becomes the Glue That Restores a Family
Bless her heart. She was a haggard little thing. Feathers were askew, falling out, barely hanging on. Molting? Maybe. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is how she spoke to me this morning. My family had endured a direct and deadly hit from the enemy that nearly destroyed us. I could relate to this wren’s haggard appearance.
Read moreA Voice as Soft as a Gentle Breeze
“The voice of the Spirit is as gentle as a zephyr, so gentle that unless you are living in perfect communion with God, you never hear it. The checks of the Spirit come in the most extraordinary gentle way, and if you are not sensitive enough to detect His voice you will quench it, and your personal spiritual life will be impaired. His checks always come as a still small voice, so small that no one but the disciple notices them.” ~ Oswald Chambers
Read moreThe Color of Love on a Bleak Afternoon
From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of rich, intense sapphire blue. It was an indigo bunting! His gorgeous blue feathers glistened in the sunlight, reflecting the radiance of His Creator.
As I often do, I turned my thoughts toward the Lord while I pondered this marvelous bird … waiting … listening to see if the Lord had a lesson for me.
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