Sometimes God calls us to share the gospel with strangers, but other times people in our everyday lives need to hear what Jesus has done for us. I am 14 now, but I was shown this at a very young age. I was only 8 years old when I made a friend at a new school. We gradually became closer, and soon she told me about her home life.
During our lifetimes, we make a lot of important decisions: Where should I live? Which job offer should I accept? Is he “the one”? Which school should we choose for our child? What is the best way to help my aging parents? I’m so thankful God is patient with me as I process and ponder. I just need to make sure I’m allowing him to guide my exploration, so he can lead me to the choice he has in mind…it may be something I haven’t even considered.
I’ve been up a lot at night lately, sometimes in the middle of the night; or wide awake at 4:30 AM. This is not usual for me. I like my sleep and if you ask my husband, he’ll tell you one of my favorite things to do is nap. My worries are getting bigger than I can ‘handle’. And, outside of the occasional occurrence of getting lost in a good book, the fact is that it’s my worries keeping me up
I was feeling discouraged about a Bible Study that a friend and I had started for a group of friends. This special group consisted of ladies from our social circle who were from diverse religious backgrounds. Some had never gone to church regularly, and others were from different denominations. They all had something in common: questions about God, the Bible, and religion.
Being rooted in Christ for me at least in part means that I need to get on my knees and dig around in the dirt of my life with Him. I can be honest with the Lord. I don’t have to pretty things up. I have to recognize the weeds of pride, unbelief, bitterness, and unforgiveness, and at the same time open my eyes to the blooming of His goodness and faithfulness in the midst of the messiness of life. In this way my roots go deep into Him and I am built up and strengthened in my faith.
When I was a teen, my mother was my best friend. Mom was a stay-at-home mother, as were most mothers in those days. I would come home from school and she was always there to greet me. After working on my homework, I would sit by the stove while she prepared dinner (in those days, moms did that too). We would chat. I could tell her about almost anything and she usually had some wise advice. I clearly remember telling her about some boy I had a crush on, who didn’t know I existed. Her advice? “Marilyn, boys are like street cars. If you miss one, another one will come along.” I can’t remember who the boy was, but I do remember Mom’s wise counsel.