Author: Ashley McClelland

Posted on

His Sacrifice

By: Stephen McClelland

Here’s a word from God for one or more of you:

You’ve been looking at the story of Abel and Cain, where Abel’s sacrifice was respected by God and Cain’s sacrifice wasn’t.

You’ve been trying to get God to respect your sacrifice like Abel, trying to figure out what to do to be pleasing to God. You’ve been more conscious of this than God’s sacrifice, the Lord Jesus Christ whipped, beaten, spit on and hung on a cross for you. Your sacrifice cannot compare.

Instead of focusing on the quality of your own sacrifice, start focusing on the respectability and extravagance of His.

This is literally going to change the way you see God, how you interact with Him and how easy it becomes to get into faith to receive good things from Him.

He loves you.

~For more of Stephen’s encouraging messages visit his website by clicking here.

~Free image taken from here

Posted on

Helping Myself

~By: Danielle Sanders

Joshua 14:12 (NIV) – “Now give me this hill country that the LORD promised me…the Anakites [are] there and their cities [are] large and fortified, but, the LORD helping me, I will drive them out just as He said.”

“God helps those who help themselves.” Benjamin Franklin wrote these words in Poor Richard’s Almanac to inspire people to take initiative and do for themselves. I used to loathe this motto for the same reason I dismissed my own father’s words when he, as a believer, would say, “Yes, God will help you, but He also gave you a brain.” I thought I was being encouraged to trust in myself more than in God. Then, for some reason, when I learned about God’s grace, I started to think that I no longer had to work very hard to advance in life. I expected promotion and great wealth to simply overtake me because I am a believer. Not surprisingly, my expectations went unmet, but by the time I realized I needed to revisit my core beliefs, decades had passed me by.

One thing that finally became clear is that there’s a difference between working hard to earn right-standing with God and working hard to earn one’s way in life. You need not do the former because believing in Jesus puts you in right-standing with God. However, you must do the latter because you will get nowhere and accomplish nothing if you don’t, despite your right-standing with God. Somehow, I had conflated the two, but not anymore.

Historians say Benjamin Franklin was a deist. Among deism’s many non-biblical beliefs is the idea that God created the world but does not interact with it. God is seen as “the great clockmaker:” He made the clock, wound it up, and let it go, never to return. While I wholeheartedly disagree with deism, the analogy of the clockmaker got me thinking. What if God, through the finished work of the cross, is indeed like “the great clockmaker” who set the world aright for believers by giving them His own Spirit and placing them in His perfect Kingdom? He then “let it go” or let them go, rather, in the sense that He now expects believers to do for themselves using the supernatural power that is working within them (Ephesians 3:20).

If this is true, then it’s no longer about waiting on God to do something. Rather, it’s about using God’s power to accomplish God’s plan. Which brings me to another distinction I’ve come to understand: there is a difference between working hard and toiling. Hard work can actually be enjoyable and quite satisfying, whereas toiling never is. I think toiling is what happens when we try to accomplish things in our own strength instead of by the power (and wisdom) of God’s Spirit.

So how do we use God’s power within to accomplish things? I think it’s by believing the Word in our hearts, making declarations that align with what we believe, and then doing whatever things need to be done. To paraphrase Caleb’s words to Joshua quoted above, “Give me the mountain God promised me [40 years ago], and with His help, I’ll drive out the enemy like He said I would!” Caleb believed God’s promise, spoke it aloud in declaration, and then did it. I see the same pattern when David defeated Goliath.

God has already given us everything. Now it’s up to us to help ourselves to His provision by not only being fully convinced (at the heart level) about what God has said, but also declaring it for ourselves, from our own mouths, and then doing whatever is needed to accomplish the task. I believe this is how the Lord’s “super” is added to our “natural,” resulting in outcomes that far exceed our expectations.

What do you think? Share your thoughts with me in the comments section below.

Posted on

Lavereen’s Rain

~This excerpt was taken from my book Romantic Rendevouz for the Soul. You made read the entire book free on my Free Inspiration page. If you enjoy the book, please consider writing a review for it on amazonto help spread the word and bless others!

“Oh my precious sweetheart,” Lavereen breathed. Her soothing deep voice was like a song and was smoother than oil on polished wood. With sparkling hazel eyes Lavereen gazed at her sleeping daughter Rain in the sunroom.

Lavereen’s midnight-coal hair fell past her shoulders and ripe swollen breasts to her hips in two silken braids. Her face was slender, her skin fair, and her thin lips a cream pink rose.

The room where Rain slept was open to the sky. Windows graced the white walls with gauzy pale curtains. Sandy-colored carpet covered the dark wooden floor. All of the cherry wood furniture had been polished recently, so the faint sweet fragrance of lemons filled the air and tickled Lavereen’s nose.

Rain lay peacefully in ripples of cotton white sheets. Her round face embraced her pillow. Her full raspberry lips were pursed out while she dreamed in a sweet daze. Her soft cheeks flushed with color. No doubt she was warm despite the cool breeze that refreshed the air inside and wafted past the curtains, causing them to flow like ocean currents. Lavereen drank in Rain’s image with loving eyes.

Rain had one pudgy little hand underneath her pillow. The other she had drawn to her face touching her lips. Rain’s short coal-black hair was curly at the ends and was free from any style, coiffed especially on the top. Lavereen smiled fondly and nimbly trailed her sculpted fingers through Rain’s hair.

“So much like your father’s,” Lavereen whispered, reflecting that her own hair was
straight.

Before long Lavereen’s soft fingers slid down to her daughters tender pink cheeks, and to her moist hand curled into a loose fist. Lavereen opened Rain’s hand with her index finger.

Unconsciously Rain coiled her hand around her mother’s finger. Lavereen’s vision grew hazy with love and she leaned over, drawing her lips to Rain’s hand. With closed eyes Lavereen placed a tender kiss on her daughter’s hand, which made a low smack in the quiet air.

After a few seconds of gazing Lavereen gently pulled her index finger free out of Rain’s loosely gripped fist. Lavereen tapped her daughter’s pale button nose. She truly was a daughter of the moon, fair skinned like her mother. Nothing like her father who was a child of the sun; kissed with heat and light, his skin was like honey.

Thank you Lord for this little Angel, Lavereen began praying. I’ve always wanted a
daughter, a dear girl that I can share all the richness of my heart with. Rain snored lightly and stirred a little. Lavereen’s thoughts traveled to the latter years of motherhood. She smiled sweetly at her daughter.“

One day, my joy, I know you’ll begin to find your way into womanhood. You’ll take that
journey every healthy woman must take. A deep path into your heart. Like a trail in a wet pine forest it will be dampened with tears and prickly with self-discovery, but just you wait my love. You’ll find the core of your soul to be more bright and golden than the sun.”

Lavereen’s thoughts became weaved with the spider webs of tomorrow. She knew one day Rain would trade in her pink dresses and ribbons for lavender floral skirts. She’d move from pigtails to letting her curls fly free or tying them up with decorative combs. She’d start to wear colorful dangling earrings and plum lipstick with pale blouses. She’d feed her soul with music and her spirit with praise. She’d loose herself in art and writing, go on her first date, and cry a million tears from her first broken heart.

They’d argue about her expensive clothes or her boyfriends, and words that should have been concealed will be spoken. It was all part of a woman’s journey.
Despite the waves of emotions Lavereen knew came along with having a daughter, she was overjoyed to have one.

“With open arms I will gladly embrace every season of your life, dearest. For every season has its purposes, little treasures that deepen your heart and awaken your understanding.”

Loose strands of Lavereen’s hair licked her face in the breeze. She brushed them back with a hand. Her warm hazel eyes glassened with tears. You have my heart small one of mine. You are my dreams, my most heartfelt prayers locked up in a precious design.
“God above,” Lavereen whispered, “Father her like only you can. May the Holy Spirit be
her best friend, may your angels cradle her in their arms, may she feel their presence, and may they whisper secrets of Heaven that Solomon didn’t even know. May she be raised in your heart, may she drink in your love and walk side by side with Jesus Christ for all eternity.” <3

Posted on

Salvation at Snow Cafe

~This excerpt was taken from my book Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul. You made read part of the book for free on my Free Inspiration page. If you enjoy the book, please consider writing a review for it on amazon to help spread the word and bless others!

Her thick hair was swirled and had the same rich texture as a cinnamon bun glazed glossy with melted frosting. Indeed, some strands were the dark color of cinnamon, and others were honey, golden brown. She had maple syrup warm eyes that awaked the senses like sweet buttered bread straight out the oven on a cold winter night. Her lips were the cool lavender color of an early autumn plum dripping with the dew of morn.  Her skin was like milk washed caramel, glowing vibrant with sun kisses. She sat across the room from me in the small cafe drinking coffee and eating pumpkin pie.

Around her neck was an embroider deep purple scarf she had tied underneath her chin by her collarbones. She wore a white flowery blouse, which was partially hidden by the long woody brown jacket with a fur hood she snuggled in. I was surprised to find that instead of pants she had on a flowery white skirt. I guessed she must have had on leg warmers or tights underneath. It seemed only natural that knee boots the cinnamon color of her hair graced her legs and feet. She was reading some recipe book.

Her eyes intently scanned the pages. On her left ring finger was a golden ring engraved with aqua rhinestone. I sighed heavily as my eyes rested on her ring. She was taken. She seemed to notice me stare as her beautiful warm eyes lifted up from the pages and smiled at me. In embarrassment, I averted my eyes before looking at her again, to find she had continued to read.

I’m such an idiot I thought why didn’t I wave or say hello? I tapped my fingers on the polished wooden table and studied the ruby walls of the café decorated with paintings of lattes, bakeries, roses, and snowy hills with pine trees in a failed attempt to get my mind off of her.

Steam wafted in from the busy kitchen where a few chefs worked. One of the chefs seemed particularly frazzled. She hassled out the kitchen door and slumped against the wall. Her dark coily hair stuck to her smooth sweaty chocolate skin. She looked up in a daze. Her chestnut eyes were moist from the seasoning in the air. With a slender hand she brushed her hair back as she ran her fingers through her tight curls.  My heart went out to her; I could see she was dreadfully tired. She looked my way in a fog and I smiled at her. To my surprise she smiled back.

Before I knew it she was inching her way toward me. I sat up in my chair, not knowing what to expect. She sort of tilted her head as she neared me and her lips parted as she looked into my eyes. I knew right away she hadn’t noticed until now my eyes were a piercing arctic blue. Someone had called them “icy” before. I shook my head to remove the straight summer brown strands of my hair that hung above my eyes.  She stopped by my table and spoke in a timid voice, “forgive me, but you have a charming smile.” I grinned at her compliment as my face warmed. Suddenly the collar of my royal blue colored shirt seemed tight. I pulled at my long sleeves before thanking her.

“I’m Trisha.” She said.

“I’m Noble.” I said and held out my hand.

“No you don’t want to shake my hands, they’re sweaty.” She warned.

I laughed, “You’re probably right.”

“Yeah.” She sighed and brushed her hands on her apron.

“Why don’t you sit down and take a break.” I said offering her the seat in front of me.

“I’d like to, but it’s around 8o’clock. The nightly crowds usually just start coming in.”

“That’s a shame…I could use the conversation.” I mumbled without thinking.

Her eyes widened.

“That came out wrong,” I stammered, “what I meant was you seem flustered and I could use someone to talk to. I’m feeling the way you look.”

“Well thanks for noticing my looks.” She quipped, before giving me a warm smile and sitting down. “I’m all ears.”

I feared I was too bold with her. My stupidity would only become more apparent if I spilled my guts out to her. A woman I had just met. 

“Water?” I offered motioning toward my untouched cup.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Trisha said sipping some of the water out a straw.

After she was done she rested her elbows on the table and asked, “Ok pretty boy, what seems to be the problem?”

I arched an eyebrow at her words.

“I can be just as forward as you.” She said with a teasing smile before leaning back.

I chortled at her joke. She had a spicy personality.

She sat pretty comfortably and seemed eager if not prepared to listen to me. Apart of me wanted to dash out the door but her eyes seemed so trustworthy and even if she wasn’t I could always just avoid this coffee shop for life. My eyes peered over at the beautiful woman adjacent to me. I slightly lifted my chin and nudged it in her direction, “Do you know her name?” I asked.

Trisha turned around in the direction of my gaze and immediately knew whom I was talking about.

“Purple scarf?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

A small laugh escaped my lips “Is it that obvious?”

She slowly nodded her head, her countenance jocular.

“I guess it’s hard to hide.”

“You look smitten.”

“Yeah but I shouldn’t be… she’s married.”

Trisha fell painfully silent before she spoke

“Her name’s Rose.”

“Rose.” I breathed, repeating her name. She is just as beautiful as one.

“She’s a poet who collects paintings and wine. She wants to live on a vineyard and her favorite color, in no surprise, is purple.”

I smiled as Trisha described Rose before asking, “How do you know so much about her?”

“She comes here often…for therapy, goodies, or just to say hello. It’s her quiet hangout spot.”

“Therapy?”

“Mhmm…just like you. I’m her listening ear. I don’t know why it is but…almost daily someone talks to me about their problems.”

I spooned my unsweetened hot coco. “Yeah, funny I guess. Maybe it’s your presence? You seem trustworthy.”

“Thank you.”

I sipped my hot chocolate before wrinkling my face at the taste. I forgot it was all natural and needed sugar. Trisha, knowing full well reached into the jam case and pulled out a few packets of sugar before handing them to me.

“So anyway, do you know if she’s married?” I asked hoping the ring she wore was anything but a wedding one.

“I think the ring pretty much speaks for itself.”

“Yeah.” I said underneath my breath.

Trisha reached out and briefly rubbed my arm. “It’ll be ok, God has someone special for you.”

I ignored her mention of God and sighed. “But I want her.”

“It’s not good to covet another man’s wife.” she said both gently and firmly.

“It’s not good, but it’s hard not to. I mean look at her.”  

Trisha nodded in agreement “She is lovely.”

“Gorgeous.” I corrected my tone like syrup.

Trisha breathed in deeply before gazing out the window at the falling snow that sprinkled down like white gold.  The flickering light of the pink candles that graced our table and every other table danced on her skin, illuminating her rich eyes.

“You know what’s gorgeous?” she asked mostly to herself. “This weather, your blue eyes, this world, and…God.”

I followed her gaze out the window. It was beautiful. Yellow lanterns glowing bellow the starry night sky. The hills and mountains covered with blankets of snow made waves along the horizon.

“Sometimes we get so caught up in what we don’t have that we fail to see what we do have. We have a way of becoming calloused to our blessings and we lose the simple joy in everyday life.”

I turned to her, drinking in her healing words. “You put that so well.”

She smiled at my words and for a moment my pain was forgotten.

“But I’m a man who knows what he wants. I guess that’s why my mom used to call me ‘picky’”

“There’s nothing wrong with hoping or dreaming, but you shouldn’t let your goals become a source of torment on your today.”

I fell silent.

“Besides,” she said continuing on “contentment makes time seem to go by faster. If God has given Rose to another man then she is not the one for you. He knows what you need and want out of life, and your wife. And don’t worry I’m sure he’ll meet all your requirements…and His. God’s not going to give you someone you’re not attracted to.”

“How do you know?”

“Because He hears and values your prayers…and you don’t look like the kind of man who could stay single for long.”

Her reassuring words were like honey to my heart. She folded her arms and sat back confident with faith.

“I guess I don’t look like the kind of man who could stay single.” I jested, posing as if I were in a photo shoot.

Trisha laughed heartily at my cocky pose and overly animated sultry smile. She had nice teeth and a bellowing laugh that seemed to start from her stomach and dive from her heart. I couldn’t help but join in. She laughed loudly before covering her mouth with a hand to stifle her cheer. It was one of the truest laughs I had ever heard. Usually girls would laugh quietly on dates, or around people they had just meet, something I call “fake laughs,” but Trisha seemed almost as happy as a countryman who just won a new pig.

“All jokes aside,” I began as we quieted down “you’re faith is admirable. Have you always felt that way?”

“It’s much less a feeling as it is a belief. And it didn’t get that way over night trust me. I’ve been waiting…patiently on God for sometime now. But in this season of waiting I’ve learned and experienced things I never would have. My faith is growing.”

“Like what?”

“Hm?”

“You said you learned some things. Care to give an example?”

“Well, He’s taught me that patience isn’t the ability to wait, but the ability to have a good attitude while you wait. Not only that, but to wait faithfully, and full of hope while you expect the Lord. I…believe the verse is Psalm 27:13, and it say’s: What, what would have become of me had I not believed that I would see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living! Wait and hope for and expect the Lord. Be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring. Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord.”

Her words struck my heart. I loved the definition she gave of patience.

“I like that.” I smiled. She lifted her shoulders as if shied by my looking at her.

“What are you waiting on?” I asked. Her eyes widened and her shoulders fell, she seemed hesitant.

“What? If you can be my listening ear then I can be yours.”

“You asked me to listen.” She countered

“And now I’m asking you to talk.”

“Many things…and a who.”

“That’s not specific enough.”

“No pressure.” She said a hint of jest and defensiveness in her voice.

“Of course not,” I said inching forward “take your time.”

 She was quiet for a while before clearing her throat.

“Well I want to be a masseuse and…have a family of my own.”

“Was that so hard?” I asked giving her a sideways smile as she released a heavy breath.

“No.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a good masseuse and an even better wife and mother,” I glanced down before looking back up at her “you should consider being a counselor as well.”

“I would, except I don’t want to get paid for helping people.”

A gusty wind blew in and a crowd of young adults with snowflakes on their clothes and boots walked in engaged in conversations, the smell of hot, spiked apple cider hung on their breaths. Trisha watched as the group of friends neared the counter.

“It’s about time for me to leave.” She told me.

“Wait one moment more?” I asked her.

She thought about my request silently before answering “Just one moment.”

I was grateful to have her company for a little while longer. We sat quietly speaking to one another with our eyes and glancing down at our cups when our gazes felt awkward. I lifted my cup to my lips for another taste before Trisha asked me “Are you saved?” Suddenly fascinated with my hands I gave them full eye contact instead of her. Knowing I was being rude I set my cup down and responded, “As saved as I know how to be.” Old memories of my once love life with Christ striking pain in my heart.

“What does that mean?” she asked softly, careful of her words as she guessed this was a tender subject to me.

“It means for the most part…I’ve let go. I just kind of walked away from that life…now I’m sort of wandering back and forth.”

“I see.” She said slowly. Her steady gaze unnerved me, but to my surprise there was no condemnation in her eyes.

“He wants you back.” She said leaning towards me.

This was getting a little too personal and I felt myself becoming uncomfortable. But what did I really have to lose? Nothing, but my stupid pride. I wanted to be vulnerable with her; I wanted to share my dead faith with this seemingly caring stranger. The gains outweighed the loss. I secretly hoped what she said was true. That God hadn’t forgotten about me although I had turned my back on him to pursue un-honest gains and satisfy my flesh in selfishness and sinful pleasures.

“How and why would God want someone like me back?” I meet her eyes knowing my heart showed through them. If this went bad I knew I didn’t have to see her again.

She smiled “Someone like who?” The way she asked the question I knew nothing I could have confessed could alter her view of me. The grace in her voice, and mercy in her eyes almost brought tears to mine. Nobody had ever looked at me like that! Before I had even confessed I was met with an ocean of forgiveness.

“God’s not interested in your sin or what you’ve done.  He’s interested in you… He delights in you and He loves you because that’s who He is. He can’t help but love.”

I fought the grief that threatened to rise from my soul, and my flesh sought to retreat. There is no way He could love me after what I’ve done.

“I’ve done too many b-“

“This isn’t about what you’ve done but what’s been done for you and it’s not about who you are but who lives inside of you.”

Stop! I wanted to tell her to…stop. I couldn’t bear to be humiliated and cry in front of her, the people in the café…and especially Rose! I clenched my jaw and looked sternly at her to hide the pain her words were awakening. I had shoved God so far into the corner of my mind and heart that to hear His name so bluntly spoken made me realize He was always there gently knocking. And to admit and face that I had ignored and cursed at Him for so long threatened to rip my heart open. I felt the weight of my evil, despite the grace I saw in Trisha’s eyes.

“It’s ok to cry.” She whispered as if seeing me past my fake facade.

“Not for this man it isn’t.” I said as firmly as possible.

She hesitated “Tears of regret are…beautiful to Him.”

“Regret for what?” I said through clenched teeth. Despite my efforts anger burned in those words.

Trisha pressed her lips together before apologizing. “I’m sorry for over stepping my bounds.”

I sighed quietly “I know you only meant well.”

A few tedious seconds passed by before either of us spoke. “Before I leave can I trouble you with one more thing?”

I nodded my head.

“Will you pray with me?”

Her request was surprisingly irresistible. And becoming that little boy again I slowly put my hands on the table and opened my palms. My flesh wanted to run but something inside of me implored me to stay. I could tell she was surprised when I gestured for her to hold my hands. I set them on the table for a reason. Trisha slid her soft hands atop mines and instinctively I cased her hands in mine. She gently squeezed my hands back, closed her eyes and bowed her head. I stole a moment to look at her in awe of what was happening.

How did it come down to this? I simply wanted to pursue Rose before finding out her marital status. Then all I wanted was a listening ear. That’s what I get for seeking one in a café instead of a bar! At least there I could have spilled my guts to a drunkard…he’d forget me and everything I said by morning. Instead some stranger is praying over me?

Trisha began praying and that took me away from my wandering thoughts. I closed my eyes as she began.

“Dear Jesus, I know that you have orchestrated this moment from the beginning of time to reach your son Noble, because you love him. I pray Lord that he would know with all his heart, mind, soul, and strength the height, depth, width, and length of the love You have for him. May it be to him a revelation within. I pray You’d tenderize and surround him always in Your presence. Saturate and dissolve him in Your wondrous, fierce, and terrific love.”

Hot tears swelled in my eyes as I felt a peaceful presence, more real than the clothes on my back knock at my heart. Trisha paused… as if listening to someone.

“Nobel, will you repeat after me?”  She asked gently.

“Yes” I answered, voice rough with emotion.

“Dear Jesus.” She began

“Dear Jesus.”  I echoed.

“I ask you to come into my heart and be my Lord and Savior.”

I repeated her word for word through the whole prayer.

“I realize I’ve turned from You Savior and with all my heart I repent and ask You to stay and dwell within me forever. Make my heart Your own; shine Your holy light on the inside of me. Purify me and replace the lies in my mind with Your truth. Heal me everywhere I hurt and have Your way with me. May I walk the path God has set for me, and may His will be done. I ask also that You would fill me to the overflowing with Yourself. And may I have a deep, personal, and intimate relationship with You and Jesus. Also may I not grieve or vex Your Holy Spirit but may I come to appreciate and treasure His loving corrections that lift me up out of self -destructive habits.  Reveal Yourself to me Father…in Jesus precious and holy name I pray amen. So be it.” 

We opened our eyes at the same time. Streams of tears lined my cheeks and Trisha’s eyes were like glass pools brimming with tears. An unexplainable joy and peace filled me. I felt as if God’s love had tangible arms that embraced me.

“Thank you.” I told her tears coloring my voice. She gave me a beautiful smile as a way of saying “your welcome”.

“Oh my goodness.” She said wiping her eyes with her sleeves and sniffing “I’m all emotional.”

We laughed with tears of joy. She offered me a napkin and I swiped at my eyes and cheeks.

Trisha pulled a silky yellow scrounge from her wrist and wound her dark hair up in a ponytail. I watched her for a moment and wondered if she was an angel. She noticed me staring and joked “Do I have something on my face?”

“Beauty.” I said without thinking. I felt like smacking myself on the forehead.

Trisha’s peaceful eyes widened before she touched her cheeks, which warmed from my forward compliment and she thanked me sheepishly.

“My, my my aren’t you a bold one.” She laughed

“I’m usually not,” I said spooning my hot coco in embarrassment “but…the way you pray is…moving. Honestly I was looking at you because I thought you might be an angel.”

Even though her skin was dark I saw her blush. It was different but beautiful, like a faint raspberry cloud underneath chocolate milk.

“Oh no… I’m far from that. I just try to obey the Lord and love Him as best I can.” She said humbly. Her words like praise to God.

“That’s all He can ask. All the same you touched me.”

“Well I’m glad God used me to bless you.”

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a group of people sit down in the circle of soft hazel love couches under a chandler of fake electric candles.

A loud crash in the kitchen caught our attention and we both swung our heads in the direction of the noise. Trisha turned to me and I knew she was preparing to say goodbye.

“I encourage you to get connected in a great church that will feed, and encourage you. Never stop seeking God’s heart.”

“Oh I have one in mind. I’m sure my old friends will be happy to see me.”

“That’s good,” she said with a smile “I better get going.” She rose and downed the water I had given her. “Have a good night.” She said and turned to leave.

“Wait!” I called and caught her hand. My actions once again surprised me and startled her.

“I’m not sure you were completely honest with me when you said you aren’t usually bold.” She said wiggling her fingers free.

“You’ve got the best of me tonight.” I quipped, unregretful of my actions.

“I’d hate to see the worst of you.” She laughed.

I chortled at her witty comeback. “Do you work here tomorrow?” I asked

“Yes.”

“What time is your break?”

“11:30am-12pm.”

“Can I buy you lunch?”

She arched an eyebrow at me.

“So we can talk more?” I added trying to explain myself.

“I’ve never been one to turn down food.” She said patting her flat belly.

“It doesn’t look like it.” I said scanning her petite figure.

“Thank you but looks can be deceiving.”

I smirked before asking “So I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“It’s a date. And I mean that figuratively.”

“Of course.” I said and then winked at her.

“Try to act noble Noble.” She teased.

“I’ve never been one to really live up to my name. And I’m just kidding with you Trish.”

“I know.” She smiled before taking a step back.

“Have a good night.”

“You too.” She said before turning around and disappearing into the kitchen.

I sighed and stared at my hot chocolate. Suddenly I didn’t have the appetite for it. After a few minutes of thinking I got up and proceeded to throw my hot coco away. Not paying attention on my way to the trash I bumped into someone. Honey hair tickled my hand and I looked up to find Rose looking at me with her beautiful eyes. Her cup dropped so I bent down and picked it up.

“I’m sorry.” She said her voice was like oil on a smooth surface.

“No, it’s my fault.” I said throwing her cup away and straightening up.

I glanced down at her almost breathless from her beauty. She smiled and her lavender lips made my heart skip a beat.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Are you from here?” she asked pulling her purse strap up her shoulder.

“Yes and no…I’m kind of returning.”

“Oh. You look unfamiliar is all. This is a small town and tourists usually don’t come in the winter. Noble right?”

How does she know my name?

“Yes.” I said with lifted eyebrows.

“I overheard you with Trish. I’m kinda jealous you stole her away for the night.” She laughed but I knew she was serious.

“My apologizes.”

“No need, I’ll catch her tomorrow over lunch.”

“Uh,” I rubbed the back of my head “actually we have lunch plans.”

Her eyes twinkled “Oh ok.” She said slowly.

“It’s not what you think.” I laughed

“Mhmm.”

“It’s not. She’s…a pretty cool person.”

“I know that well.” She said softly. Her eyes deepening as if thinking fondly of all the wonderful things Trisha had done for her. “I’m Rose.” She said holding out her silky hand.

“Well you know my name.” I said shaking hands with her.

“Yes I do.” She giggled before drawing her cookbook to her side. “Take care.” She said reaching for the door.

“God bless.”

I said holding it out for her.

“You’ve definitely been talking to Trish.” There was radiance in her voice.

I gazed at her glowing dazzling face before shutting my eyes and telling myself she was another man’s wife.

“Night.” She said and walked out the door.

“Good night.” I said to her back.

I watched her leave. Gentle snowflakes rested on her glossy hair. Indeed I still was attracted to her beauty but that desire, now, didn’t bring me pain.

She belonged to someone else and God had another for me.


“Ashley has a very talented gift to weave words together that display tenderness, compassion and purity. Each story reveals the heart of Jesus towards His children. As you read each one you can see past the characters and feel the depth of Jesus’ heart, as well as the longing for a deeper relationship with Jesus inside yours.” – Everesta Hannon

Posted on

The Caregiver’s Guide

~By: Linda Kloth

“It is a delicate dance when that time comes. Whether the aging loved one is a parent, grandparent, spouse, aunt, uncle, close family friend, or long-time neighbor—it can be anyone we know and care about—the level of involvement differs for everyone.

Having caregivers can be the difference between getting regular meals, paying bills on time, keeping utilities on, safety around the house, and more. By being available, our family helped my grandparents avoid scams, remember what the doctor said, and take medications properly.

The stories and anecdotes included in this book center around my experience with my grandparents, with the hope that, though your situation is unique, our story will reflect situations you may face.

Your loved one may be experiencing challenges on any part of the spectrum, from needing occasional help, to needing regular assistance, to help with daily living. It’s good to watch for clues that signal greater involvement is needed. The longer we live, and the faster the world changes, the more likely that time will come for the elders in our lives. I saw all this happening first-hand over time with my grandparents, as an insider living in their home.” <3

~This short excerpt was taken from Linda’s book: Caregiver’s Guide: Getting Started, Making It Work, and Finishing Well

P.S: For years, I watched Linda graciously navigate the frail balance between her individualism and her new role as a caregiver, with the poise of a performing ballerina. Although some seasons were stressful for her, she still managed to meet me for coffees, volunteer with Cru4Jesus, work-part time, edit my book, take care of herself and manage an assortment of other things. Her iridescent laughter chimed throughout her 8 years as a full-time caregiver and the sparkle in her azure eyes never diminished. I was astounded by her ability to lean on God so fully in the difficult times. Linda served her grandparents at home with deep affection, love and excellence. Because of her sacrifice, she was able to give them security in their last years from the comfort of their own home. Watching Linda love deeply was a radiant sight to behold. I hope all who read this book will be greatly encouraged and tremendously blessed with the grace, wisdom and strength of God, as they attend their aging loved ones.

Posted on

The Cost

~By: Candy Thomas

Proclaiming God’s truth in love

May add two enemies for each friend

But immeasurable grace from above

Multiplies blessings in the end

So carefully count the cost

Appreciating the salvation of men

Because the Gospel preached to the lost

Delivers life and frees from sin

Saints who willingly pay the price

Appreciate God’s kingdom above all

They gladly make any sacrifice

Highly valuing the Spirit’s call

Posted on

Sharon’s Love

~A short story about forgiveness, written from the perspective of an unfaithful, ambitious husband

“Sharon,” I mumbled as I slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Rose,” I heard a sweet voice reply. My eyes slurred beneath my eyelids. Rose of Sharon, I thought wistfully, remembering Song of Solomon. It was her intimate name…the name I had called her when we consummated our marriage. The smell of vaporous pear butter soothed my senses. My body was sweaty and achy. Pain licked up my back as I tried to shift.

“Shhh, rest now,” the soft voice said. My eyes were crusted close.

“I want to see,” I groaned, pleading inside for sight. I heard shuffling in the room and a shaft of light moved—curtains were being drawn back.

“I know,” Sharon replied, tears coating her voice, “I’ve prayed for you to see for years now.” Her uttered words were like a palpable force leaving me wondering how deeply I had hurt her.

 A tea kettle whistled and for a moment I could sense her peaceful presence no more. Water was being poured. Moaning weakly, I felt for her with my hands, craving the comfort of her touch. She drew by my side and took hold of my hand. Her supple fingers were smooth like running cream. She lightly caressed my fingertips before she intertwined her hand in mine. She sat beside me and plush lips moist with tears met my perspiring forehead.

“You’ve been in the dark too long,” she whispered.

She released my hand, dipped hers in a bowl of oiled water and gently rubbed her thumbs across my eyes. I breathed deeply as the scent of frankincense and myrrh created an aromatic fog around my face.

“It’s anointing oil,” Sharon soothed.

My eyes fluttered open and the golden sunlight pouring in from the window almost blinded me. Translucent curtains waved as a fresh breeze seeped in from the cracked windowsill.

My eyes squinted as Sharon dipped a floral towel in the steaming water. It was the same towel she had worked on for weeks. I had called it a “rag” in the past—considering it drab and ugly. Only now could I see the delicate detail she had put in it. Bright red apples danced like rubies across the cloth.

Sharon smiled tenderly at me as she carefully wiped the sweat from my brow and dabbed my neck and chest with the towel. I relaxed as she worked, feeling a healing presence gently warm my body through her fingertips. For a moment, the sunlight formed a halo behind her silhouette.

Why was she doing this?

I had walked out on her and fully intended to take all of our marital assets, given time. If it hadn’t been for that potentially fatal car accident last week, that temporarily had me bedridden, I would have done so by now. I knew how to swindle the system well—banking, no greed, had taught me that. Greed for wealth had made me a cunning swindler…a breaker of her heart.

The words she had oft spoken to me came back, “Love is patient…it keeps no record of wrongs…God’s love in us does not fail.”

I peered at her. Her eyes were like the richest cinnamon glinting with flecks of amber. Her glossy raspberry lips and cheeks were awash with tears. I could see the trail of them on her chin and neck. She moved to massage my scalp when I caught her wrist. A small gasp escaped her lips and she stared at me.

I’m sorry. The words burned to escape my throat.

I only looked back at her. My jaw clenched and my eyes twitched.

Why couldn’t I say it?

What held me back?

Her beatific eyes rained rivers of love on me and something in my heart broke free like water crashing against a dam.

“Why?!” I wept brokenly, surprised to find myself crying.

“Because God’s love never fails.”

My eyes widened as the empyrean light behind her became a Man. Like a balmy song, a cherubic voice spoke in the air, “I’ve prayed for you to see for years now.”

~This short story was taken from my book Visions of Celestial Love

“Ashley presents us with a true cornucopia of modern psalms, personal testimonies, and short stories. She has set out to reveal and unravel some of the most complex heart issues mankind faces in our quest of understanding what true intimacy with God really looks like. Prepare to have your soul massaged and worked on as you read Visions of Celestial Love.” — Jeremy Minard, Founder of Servant King Apparel, Active U.S Navy

Posted on

I Could Sing of Your Love Forever

I am romanced by You.

You cause me to relax.

You ease and lift off all the burden.

As I lay in bed comfortable, knowing that Your Presence is here, You heal me with delightful images.

I see fields of gold.

Shining wheat in the sun swaying in the breeze as deep colored as honey.

Fanciful beautiful butterflies, white like doves in the snow flutter leisurely from strand to strand.

They frolic and play with each other.

Many more butterflies appear, each like a white candle.

My eyes lift above these golden hills.

Women appear spinning and twirling in the aureate fields.

Their sleeves are long and flowery and they too are dressed in white.

Their dresses are gossamer and the sleeves and helms of their dresses are translucent.

They are all lovely and each represents a different nation but all of them are one in Jesus.

One has long, curly, sandy blond warm hair. Her skin is golden, her eyes ocean blue. She rushes forward, spins and then withdraws skipping her feet up gaily.

The other is olive-toned with smooth skin and long ebony hair like silk. She is serene and her eyes are pools of rich beauty that pour from her redeemed soul. She sways in the breeze and her movements are fluid.

The other has bronze-brown skin. She is all lovely and her glowing eyes are like maple-brown bowls with cinnamon flecks in them. Her dark brown hair is springy and ripples down like vines from a tree. Her smile is bright and she spins like a princess.

The wind catches her dress and the skirts of her dress lift just above her knees and spin in smooth waving folds.

Before long a multitude of other women appear—all are rejoicing.

They carry tambourines and other musical instruments in their hands.

Some have colorful scarves to wave in worship.

Smiles lift every face and they celebrate forward in a procession.

Butterflies coat the clear blue sky before swooping down.

They too spin and make whimsical patterns in the air.

A dark wooded tree with deep green leaves is seen on a hill.

An ocean appears whose waters laugh and sparkle with the reflection of the sun.

The water shimmers and its colors are like teal blue mixed with azure.

Along the shore the waves are clear like a mirror and the worshipers jump in.

Some swim in the refreshing pool while others cheerfully glide and skip on the surface of the water.

Their angel-like movement kicks up splashes and drops of water that glisten in the sun like gauzy glitter.

Some hold hands and dance together.

I watch as two women in floral white dresses stood alongside a friend and lift her up out of the playful water.

Suddenly as the women praise on the water their dresses colorize.

One spins in front and the inner skirts of her dress transform into rhubarb purple.

She lifts and stretches her arms and hands. Her movements are fluid and as graceful as silk in the air.

Another’s snow white dress becomes a cream pink as soft as a rose petal. I watch in amazement at the wonder of it all.

A Presence is felt in the waters and in the sky.

He is all together radiant and His beatific blessings become one with the air.

Suddenly butterflies the same color as the ocean come out of the water. They flap around wildly.

They group and separate as they dance gleefully.

Just below the waters and on the ocean floor more butterflies are seen.

They seem content to play inside the water. Reflections of the sun ripple on the ocean floor like placid lightning forming diamonds.

There is perfect peace here.

There is perfect joy here.

The women twirl in a line and joyful dusty rose dolphins the color of summer pink burst from the waters laughing. They flip and bob their heads and swish their bodies in the air as they reach for the sky.

One blocks the sun for a moment and all his features become indecipherable. All you can see is his silhouette as the sun’s rays shines behind his sleek form. He dives down in happiness and causes a big splash.

The dolphins begin to form a moving canopy above the women like a pink bridge.

They jump one after another above the heads of the women who twirl and spin in the shining light of the sun.

Some do flips along the side like a fountain.

The scene is celestial.

The movements are the rejoicing of love.

You romance me with images of beauty.

You delight, uplift and comfort me with your love.

~This short devotional was taken from my book Visions of Celestial Love

Posted on

Comparison

My little girl was curled up on our ruby red coach in her cream pink onesie with wine colored sleeves. Her dark chocolate brown hair with blonde hazelnut strands was tousled and wild; matching her whimsical personality. Eden motioned for my attention as I scrolled through my I-Phone. I noticed her attempts when her little olive hand grabbed my thigh. I turned my head and saw she had leaned over so entirely that her torso was touching the couch while her legs were spread. She had bent over to see my face more fully. Eden’s blue-gray eyes glimmered with delight when I set my attention on her and she let out a happy squeal. Her apple cheeks lifted as she made joyful cooing sounds that chimed like instruments of pure bliss; the harmony of an innocent soul who has been truly seen. I fingered through her silky hair affectionately.

“Wow,” I commented to my husband who was sitting on the other side of her, “look how flexible she is!”

Stephen took his azure eyes off his phone and glanced at Eden before smiling, “yes, she is.”

“We should enroll her in gymnastics! That way she keeps her flexibility.”

“I think that would be good,” he agreed with a deep chuckle.

“It’s settled!” I announced, mostly to myself.

No sooner had I finished speaking those gleeful words, did a death-bringing thought darken my mind.

What if she looks at the other girls in class and feels like a failure?

A disturbing memory from earlier that week was added on top of the other disheartening thought: like dirty laundry piling on the floor of my mind. I remembered giving a beautiful young mom a tour of my in-home preschool previously that week. She had two adorable infants with dark sparkling eyes who needed care. We had all traveled to the classroom where Eden began playing with her kids. Out of nowhere her son pointed to my daughter and said with a puckish smile that resembled a European sprite-fairy, “she’s funny.” He was addressing her physical features.

The young mother simply repeated his statement with a question, “she’s funny?”

I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or not and so I shrugged off his comment and smiled at her to hide what was going on in my heart.

This was the first time Eden had ever been insulted in my hearing. Throughout my years in childcare, I’ve heard an earful of “slights” tossed back and forth from children’s lips to one another. I never wanted Eden to hear such words.

Thankfully my daughter seemed unbothered by his assessment of her and continued playing nicely with him.

A stab of dull pain came to my heart and I immediately decided against the idea of enrolling her in gymnastics. This all happened within a few short seconds of me sitting on the couch.

It’s amazing how our thoughts can spiral us downward isn’t it? How our hurts and insecurities and worries can raise a mountain of fear, when the circumstance is really a molehill?

Years ago I battled with a serious insecurity problem regarding ministry, marriage and life in general. I felt insufficient and totally unequipped to be a minister’s wife. Yet, in the same breath, I felt unnoticed, under-appreciated and outdated for the better part of two years. I recounted the many events I was invited to simply because people wanted to sit around Stephen, or the times where I would hang out with friends and then they became enthralled with receiving words from my husband. This seemed to happen weekly and after awhile I truly felt overlooked by everyone in my life. All the gifts that I knew I had from God seemed like rubble when I thought of my husband’s grace-gifts. I felt my talents were dross and so I slowly became silent, busy serving through cooking and cleaning…but never sharing the treasures of my heart with others. I felt like my gifts weren’t worth sharing… and eventually I felt as if I weren’t worth sharing.

As a newly wed consumed with the duties of wifehood and bills, I noticed my friends slowly began to bleed out of my life, and quite frankly, it was my fault. I was never free to hang out and I soon became too exhausted to engage in furthering relationships (with two jobs, school, a spouse and all). This left my soul starved of the deep friendships I had began to cultivate before marriage. It also further added to my insecurity since I was isolated from thriving spiritual relationships where we could, “encourage each other.” I found myself buried under the dirt of emotional loneliness.

During this time, five heart-shattering deaths occurred in my life. Three of them, involved family under 18. Because I had no one to talk to about my grief, I stuffed it down. My emotions were so tumult inside that my body began to manifest signs of trauma (one morning I sneezed lightly and blood started pouring from my nostrils. Other, more personal things were going wrong in my body). During this time, I worked as a prayer minister who also took crisis calls. So for almost six hours a day I would be listening to other peoples troubles and ministering to them. Unfortunately I carried their problems in emotional baggage after we said, “amen.” I felt low, incapable of handling life, and I certainly felt like a failure as a wife and minister.

The frailty of life plagued me with fear when I thought of how tragically my three family members died. The devil plagued on my low self-image and insecurity so cruelly during the thick of this tormenting time that I considered leaving Colorado, and consequently, Stephen (I had even gone so far as to search for last-minute plane tickets. I had it all planned out, I would ask a schoolmate to drop me off to the airport and tell them I was visiting family for a weekend. But really, I was running away with no intentions of going back).

Stephen tried to love on me through this sensitive time, but I couldn’t receive it. When I saw him, I saw someone who was better than me. I saw him as Mr. Right, and me as Mrs. Wrong (condemnation held my heart an arm’s length away). To be honest I still sometimes battle with comparing myself to Stephen…though much less so now (I pray by the time this devotional reaches your beautiful eyes…I will be over this by God’s grace). All my past experiences with insecurity began to floodgate my heart when I thought of Eden. I projected two years of my life on her through these thoughts…even though she was incapable of understanding “comparison.” Immediately I thought, “I never want Eden to feel the deep pain that I had through comparison. So I just won’t give her the opportunity to compare!”

Isn’t it amazing how our fears can rob someone else’s life of good opportunities?

Thankfully, God rescued me from the slippery mental slope I was falling down. A sweet thought came to my mind, bringing the soothing warmth of my Father. I remembered a foggy day in Fall where I was looking out my parent’s massive living room window. The road was wet with dew—like charcoal with melted silver. Auburn leaves were falling from branches like gold and red glitter. As I gazed outside, Father had spoken these liberating words to my soul, “I have never compared you to anyone Ashley. There is no place in my heart to compare you. I am not an earthy father who says, ‘why can’t you be more like your older brother or sister?’ You are completely accepted and beloved. Who you are, is a cherished daughter.”

When He had said this, I felt healing rise in my heart from the Holy Spirit (Romans 5:5). It dawned on me that day that God didn’t love me any less than Stephen, though I had unconsciously started to believe it. He didn’t value me less than Stephen. I wasn’t less favored because my gifts were more geared toward soft counseling than fiery preaching.

Even if the world recognized my husband’s anointing, gifts or talents faster than they did mine, what did that matter? Shouldn’t I celebrate his favor? I acknowledged that through these past experiences, I had let myself fall from the high ground of true security…God’s love for me. He alone was my source of inner self-worth, strength, protection and emotional healing (p.s: for months when I was in my 3rd trimester and no longer worked, God began to counsel my heart and help me cry the tears I should have cried when each family member passed. He helped me release the grief and He gave me peace in its place).

My mind turned back to Eden and I thought about the power of my voice over her as a parent. I could build her up in love and be a wall of security around her. I thought more importantly about the power of God’s love for her. Only He could truly build a fortress of love around her tender soul. He alone has the true power to call out her identity in beauty, grace and self-worth.

Prayer:

~I pray that you realize that you are incomparable to God. The same Father who spoke this to me, speaks this to you as well. May you never know the bitterness of feeling unvalued, but may His immense value for you be the bedrock of your soul. I pray you know the deep security of being beloved by Jesus and held by the Holy Spirit who is your Comforter. I pray you truly are able to receive the overwhelming love that God has for you. How high, deep, wide and long is His amazing love for you. May you realize that His love is an everlasting love that will never end. May you know the great peace of Jesus that has broken the power of death (because as a believer you are an eternal person). May you feel more surely than the clothes on your body that you will never be alone. There will never be a moment in your life where you are alone because Jesus is always with you. Even when you take your last breath on this side of eternity, He will be with you. And when you open your eyes again, you will see Him smiling…He loves you. He dearly prizes you. He treasures you. He cherishes you. He savors you. He rejoices over you. He celebrates you. He understands you. He is forever committed to you.

Posted on

Breath of Life

~A short story written from the perspective of a young Messianic woman when Christians were under persecution in ancient Rome. In keeping with Jewish culture the name of God is not spelled out in this story. This excerpt was taken from my book Visions of Celestial Love.

Roselyn whispered over her lover’s limp body. Perspiration beaded on his forehead and trailed down his neck. His breaths came in broken, sharp gasps. Blood trailed down the side of his lips. His eyes were wide and empty. Shock gripped his conscious. He had received so many strikes to his head.

“Gabriel,” Roselyn wept silently, tears welling in her eyes, “Please…please don’t go.”

His face was ashen and scarred. The souls of his eyes bore into her and shifted over her face. Something of understanding flashed across emerald his green eyes like a shooting star.

“Roselyn…” He struggled gaining some understanding.

“No, no…shh,” she tried to soothe, and cupped his face underneath the night sky. She didn’t want him to use any of his energy to speak. Exposed to the cold of the elements, she prayed and buried her face in his chest.

Speaking in tongues, she beseeched Yahveh in words too deep for her. Finally her Hebraic tongue took control and she uttered words to the One who sat above the circle of the Earth, “לשמור על הנשימה של חיים שלך בו אב. Keep Your breath of life in him, Father. אל תיתן לזה לעבור, לא מאפשר לו לעבור. Don’t let it pass, don’t let it pass.”

Her thick Aramaic accent brought a familiar comfort to Gabriel’s Roman ears. He remembered the first time he’d heard her singing to her G-d, with the rest of the Jews in their sukkah, or tent of meeting. Her voice, he thought, was a pitch higher than the angels and it resounded like the music of bells in the still air, piercing his ears and his soul with delight…and pain. Delight because he had never heard anything so beautiful in his life; pain because her joy was foreign to him. Where she had known peace he had known chaos, where she had known rest he had known inward turmoil, where she had known joy he had known ache, and where she had known truth he was bogged down with unanswered questions.

After hearing her sing, he had gone every Shabbat by the local city Synagogue where they faithfully assembled to listen to her. She sung with such passion, such clarity. Joy beamed on her olive skin. The light that shone from her deeply warm brown eyes burned his heart like a thousand bowls of cinnamon set on fire. She seemed so sure of her G-d despite the enslavement of her peoples and their living conditions. It was her steadfast conviction in the face of persecution that brought him to Adonai. He remembered the initial pleasure he felt when he heard her make melody to the Lord, as she now prayed over him with tears spilling from her eyes and lining her cheeks.

 Her eyes lifted from his frame temporarily as she scanned her surroundings. It was dangerous to be here. She knew it. And she knew should try to drag Gabriel inside a hidden alcove. The riot was still hot in the city. Ruthless men, desperate thieves, and struggling soldiers crowded the street in a moving web of confusion and blood. The wounded laid unpitied where they were struck and their moans and wails buzzed the air like a hive of bees.

Despite the rush of panic she felt within, she stayed and continued to pray, “Oh L-rd hear, Oh L-rd have chesed,” Roselyn breathed, with tears drenching her voice. “Have mercy, mercy, mercy, oh G-d. Heal your servant. Heal Gabriel.”

A shrilly shriek sounded from a street or two down the road. It grew faint and then choky. A gurgling noise came before silence. Roselyn’s pulse quickened…a woman had been murdered.

“Go, Roselyn,” Gabriel rasped, a light in his emerald green eyes. The effect of shock had passed from the stab wound he had received a few moments ago in an attempt to save her from being raped by a band of legionaries, “Save yourself.”

Roselyn shook her head, her tears spilling on the flowing white folds of her gossamer dress. Her dark chestnut eyes sparkled from torchlight, “Never, I will never leave you.”

Gabriel’s eyes saddened from the joy and pain he felt at her confession. A knife gripped his heart at the same time soft comfort came from her steadfast love. Pushing aside his own selfishness for her presence he spoke, “I want you to be safe. I want you to live.”

Roselyn’s lips trembled uncontrollably as she spoke, “As long as I’m with you…I am safe. As long as G-d rules…I live.”

The shimmering of building tears gathered in Gabriel’s eyes. “You always were stubborn,” he smiled weakly.

A small laugh escaped Roselyn’s lips. She rubbed his cheek affectionately as he grasped for life, his breathing still shaky. Becoming serious she whispered, “Forgive me.”

Gabriel’s eyes lifted, “For what?”

“If I hadn’t…,” she began choking on her own tears, “If I had just…”

He silenced her, “I’d rather die Roselyn, than have anyone hurt you.”

He lifted his bronzed hand and trailed the side of her delicate face with a calloused finger, “I’d rather die defending you, than live knowing I didn’t protect you.”

A rush of hobbled boots sounded, trumping against the stone pavement.

“Soldiers,” Roselyn gasped looking up, fear causing her thin body to tremble.

“Hurry,” Gabriel warned gripping her arm, “you don’t have much time.”

“They are your friends. Perhaps you can reason with them.”

“I am a traitor to the crown. I killed my own kind to defend your people. I renounced the gods of the emperor to serve the One true God.”

Roselyn’s eyes were desperate for hope. Gabriel saw that and shook his head, “They will have no pity. I’m as dead to them as your people are.”

The footsteps grew louder and behind them followed wails of terror.

“Hurry! Go! Go!”

“No!” Roselyn cried and gripped the collar of Gabriel’s tunic even as he tried to push her away.

Mustering her strength she rose and then began to pull on his body.

“It’s too late for me, Roselyn!”

Her only response was audible tears as she struggled to move his muscular body with her feeble one. She wished she weren’t so malnourished, at that moment more than ever.

Gabriel saw her fight, knew she wouldn’t quit, and so in penetrating agony he lifted his legs, gaping with the gnashing wounds of knives, and kicked with his heels at the pavement to aid her. The sword that hung on his belt scraped against the stone ground and shone sliver in the moonlight. Roselyn was able to pull him between two small Jewish homes underneath the shadow of connecting roofs just in time to see a young Palestinian thief running from a legionnaire.

He fled like a mouse before a lion. His clothes were ragged and his skin was blackened from the sun and the sweat of forced labor. The legionnaire made sport behind him and after enjoying a quick jest, threw a long framea spear that effortlessly slit him through the back. The young man fell silently with wide eyes and died before he hit the ground.

With a licentious smirk the legionnaire pressed the back of his heel into the dead man’s body and pulled his spear free. He cleared his throat and spit on the man he had just killed. “Palestinian dog,” he cursed and then checked to see if his spear incurred any damage.

Roselyn covered her mouth to keep from screaming. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes as she saw a man so coldly murdered before her. Gabriel firmly took hold of her arms and squeezed when she began to shake. “Shh, shh, shh,” he breathed lightly.

Shortly after his kill a group of soldiers followed behind him.

One whistled, “Clean cut, Sebastian.”

“Not exactly,” Sebastian said, his ice-blue eyes piercing. His pale face was marked by hardness and his legs and arms favored polished marble etched with sapphire blue veins. He wore a bronzed uniform gilded with gold that glimmered from torch and moonlight. His ash-brown hair was freshly cut and not a single hair seemed to be out of place.

“The pig’s blood is on my spear,” Sebastian stated, and without warning flung the spear at one of the men. It was caught effortlessly. A man with dark hair and eyes cleaned it off using the robe of a dead man lying beside him.

“Not anymore,” the dark haired man said and handed it back to Sebastian.

“So it seems,” Sebastian said with a satisfied smile.

“How’s the south quarter going, my lord?” another man asked. He had long blonde hair that was braided in the back and tied with black bands.

Sebastian laughed, “Fun.”

“Honestly, how long does it take to kill one revolt?” one grumbled.

“Tsk, tsk, Annalias. Have a little jest while we’re out making rounds, huh? By the time the night’s over we will have struck such terror in the Jewish and lower class scum that it will be talked about for generations. We shall not see another man so bold as to stir up a crowd in these parts again. Not after this blood bath anyhow,” Sebastian said confidently. He spread his arms out to comfort his friend and emphasize his words, “Listen lad! What do you hear?”

Shrieks, screams and groans filled the air like the whipping of a flag in a strong wind.

“Music,” his friend answered with a wicked smile, as if he were feeding off the fear in the air.

“Terror! The best kind of music. Let death rein in the hearts of these scums. Let it replace courage and hope. Long live the emperor!”

With a roar the crowd of legionaries shouted, “Long live the emperor! Long live the crown!”

Sebastian laughed, “Pax Romana!!!”

Roselyn trembled as the crowd of ruthless legionaries disappeared. They were like wolves hunting little lambs—out-powering and outnumbering the people of G-d.

The minute they disappeared Roselyn ran toward the slain Palestinian man. Gabriel tried to stay her but reached for her too late. Her gown glowed white in the moonlight and flowed like currents as she moved. Her long ebony hair swayed behind her like black silk echoing moonlight.

Kneeling, Roselyn turned the body around and recoiled when she saw his face. It was Periah—the young teen who had often come to the sukkah on Saturday to jeer at her and her kin as they worshiped. She had long prayed for him to be saved.

Gabriel called her back but she refused. Shaking her head at her concerned lover she turned her attention back to the boy. He could have not been past sixteen. A deep mourning filled her gut for him and a wail pressed at the back of her throat to escape. He died without hope. His was the death most to be pitied. Muffled sobs escaped her lips as she gazed down at him—her dark curly hair surrounded his face like a flow of silken waters from a waterfall. Where was his life now?

“Roselyn, come back!” Gabriel called as quietly and as urgently as he could. When she didn’t move he spoke the words he wished weren’t true, “He’s dead.”

Roselyn’s tears blurred and then finally blinded her vision for a moment. All she could see was Yahveh’s heart for this young lost man. She saw him scraping in trash bins for food and scaring off rats from soiled lunches. She saw him scratching sores from his peeling skin and she saw him falling asleep every night without hope. She remembered how she had pitied him from the moment she saw his emaciated frame and soulless eyes. A strong and penetrating sadness had gripped her soul for him, and she knew it was not from herself, G-d had given her His compassions for him.

For months she had reached out in love to him, shared what little food she had, quoted scripture to him, and prayed relentlessly for him. And now here he was, on blood-stained sand and dead, without the eternal hope of HaMashiach she had prayed he would receive.

What were all her efforts for? He had died without the light of Yeshua in his heart. At that moment her sorrow became unbearable, overpowering her in fierce anguish. A dark and fleeting thought spoke to her as a door of weakness was open in her soul. It seethed, “Where are the miracles your fathers of old speak of? This God of yours is a fable.”

The second the thought came Roselyn recognized it as the deceiver’s voice, and she knew right then that she wasn’t fighting against flesh and blood. Her eyes widened and something holy within her quickened. Suddenly fear evaporated from her. There was a spiritual war going on for the souls of men; for the soul she held in her hands now.

“Get behind me HaSatan. You are a liar and the truth is not in you.”

At her rebuke she felt the dark force leave. It had been hovering over the young Palestinian man. A fire erupted in Roselyn’s soul. The enemy would not have him! He would not win!

Wounded and bleeding, Gabriel limped over to where Roselyn was. His hand clenched his lower abdomen where he had been stabbed.

“Roselyn,” he whispered softly, seeing the trails of tears on her neck and cheeks.

“Pray with me,” Roselyn beseeched quietly.

“He’s dead,” Gabriel said sadly.

“Do we not serve the Giver of life?” Roselyn questioned, glancing at Gabriel. He saw a new light in her eyes that exceeded any he had seen before. “He is not the G-d of the dead but the G-d of the living. He is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore. If He can bring a dead man back to life in the past He can do it now. If He parted the Red Sea for Mosheh and my people in the time of Pharaoh then He can part this sea of blood that stains the ground we walk on. If He could be a pillar of light to His promised children then, He can bring light in fainting hearts now,” her voice became clear like a bell carrying the sound of Heaven across the four winds, “If He can bring Messiah into the world and save those dead in sin then He can save Periah.”

Against humanistic logic, Gabriel laid a hand on the boy’s stiff leg to pray but kept his eyes on his surroundings, “I will intercede with you,” he said relenting.

Roselyn closed her eyes and began praying to G-d, “אני מתחנן רוח החיים חזרה אל אב גופו. ייתכן שהנשימה שנתת לו ביצירה שלו תחזור אליו שוב. ייתכן שהוא לא יאבד אבל בוא שמים לשמוח בישועתו. אתה עלול להיות מהולל. I beg for Your breath of life to be put back into him, Father. The breath You breathed at his creation, I pray it would return. I pray that he would not be lost, but that Heaven would rejoice at His salvation and may You be glorified!”

Roselyn’s speech translated into a clear and pure tongue. Suddenly she felt it wasn’t she who was praying but the very Ruach of G-d. A language unknown to her gushed forth from her gut in endless waves. It felt like translucent aromatic waters were rushing from within her soul into the body of Periah. Her fingertips trembled as she felt a warm Presence go from them into the cold body of Periah.

She didn’t know what the words swimming from her lips meant, but she sensed in her spirit a calling back was happening. An ancient cry was going out and breaking through spiritually dark airwaves. A battle was being fought that she couldn’t see. A life was at stake.

“Bring him back G-d of chesed!” she called.

Then suddenly going after the dark force that had held Periah in spiritual blindness, Roselyn demanded under the influence and power of the Ruach HaKodesh, “I require the soul of Periah back! You cannot have him! I plead the blood of Yeshua. Be bound by the blood. You have no authority or legal right to Periah.”

A great darkness broke and Gabriel saw a light more pure and white than the stars flash across his eyes. Roselyn’s chestnut eyes rose heavenward and she began to sing glory to G-d, her song of worship climaxing over the high-pitched shrieks that penetrated the city.

Her hands began to burn as if she had placed them on hot coals, and for a moment she imagined she saw through the eyes of Yeshua. She imagined she wasn’t on earth, but seated with Him in heavenly places. Roselyn and Gabriel were so caught up in the electric manifestation of God’s power that they didn’t notice the silhouette of a man approaching them. Roselyn’s song lifted to Heaven as she poured forth thanksgiving to God.

Just then a menacing voice hissed behind her, “What are you doing?” A dark arm rose above her and was poised to strike. “Jewish SCUMM!!!”

Gabriel drew his sword from his belt and lifted it above Roselyn’s head, meeting the blow of the legionnaire midair. The clash of metal against metal sent sparks flying off. The physical force of the legionnaire’s blow sent stinging ripples of pain through Gabriel’s arms. His fresh wounds gaped open even more and a searing vibration throbbed through his body. Gabriel flinched back as the legionnaire moved to kick him. Gritting his teeth and ignoring his pain he caught the man’s foot midair, twisted it sharply and pulled.

“Roselyn run!” Gabriel yelled, using up what little energy he had left.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to kill this man, but only stall him long enough for Roselyn to escape. A sharp angry cry split the air as the legionnaire landed on his foot and jerked it free. With the same foot he kicked Gabriel in the mouth sending him flying backward. Blood streamed from his already cracked lips. Roselyn screamed as he landed on the pavement with a heavy thud.

“Traitor,” the legionnaire spat with a deadly malice as he approached him. He drew a short knife from his sheath. Gabriel coughed violently as a flow of blood rose from his throat. His emerald eyes met Annalias’s hard face. “I’ll maim you and send your head to the emperor!”

Rushing to her feet, Roselyn fell atop Gabriel, shielding him with her own body. She closed her eyes and prepared for the worst. Instead of a knife piercing through her skin she felt a large clammy hand snatch her from Gabriel with a dark force she didn’t know was possible. A soft gasp of pain escaped her lips. The man looked down at her in utter disdain. Hatred burned in his deep blue eyes.

“Where is your God now, Jewish whore?”

His face wrinkled when she didn’t react. It angered him that she didn’t shake with fear. Everyone he had killed that night shook with fear before he killed them. Enraged he yanked her up by the collar of her dress.

“Answer me when I talk to you pig! Where is He?”

His eyes burned with a fury beyond human inspiration. Roselyn merely stared back at him with tearful eyes. He saw sadness in them, pity in them, pain in them…but no fear. His fingers climbed around her neck like the legs of a spider and he lifted her off the ground until her feet dangled. He closed the canal of her throat and she choked for air.

“You think your people are chosen? You think your God is stronger than the gods of Rome? We rule death. Tell me what is stronger than that?”

He flung her back and she fell to the ground. Gabriel lifted a hand above Roselyn. Gnashing his teeth, he raised his torso despite the strength he felt leaving him. Energy seeped from the pores of his skin and he had never known a deeper weakness in his life. Still he determined to defend her with his last breath.

The legionnaire laughed callously at Gabriel’s attempt to protect the little Jewess. He grabbed the front of his sword and used the back to whack Gabriel in the face. Blood gushed forth from Gabriel’s lips and a piercing sound filled his ears as his head swooned. He was dying.

The world began to spin round and round and nauseous dizziness threatened to leave him unconscious. He felt his body begin to blacken out in shock but fought against it. Please God, he begged, not like this. Give me strength to save her!

Something sinister shifted in the legionnaire’s eyes. “Why kill you right away when I can make you suffer?” he grimaced. His evil eyes blazed and focused on Roselyn.

Roselyn sat up and looked upon the man who held a long sword toward her neck.

“Any last words, Jewess?” he smirked.

Roselyn blinked back the pools of tears that gathered behind her eyes and spoke quietly. She uttered the dearest name to her heart. She uttered the only name she knew could save her.

“Yeshua,” she said softly.

“What?!” the soldier railed, not hearing her.

“The One you call Jesus or Joshua. He is stronger than your gods of death.”

“Swine!” the legionnaire yelled, as if the very name of Messiah burned his ears. He struck Roselyn across the face with his hand and her face twisted so fiercely that he thought her neck would break. She grabbed at her bruised cheek sharply and quick gasps escaped her lips before she recovered her breath.

Though her voice was strained she spoke, “H-He gives life. Life is more powerful than death. Light will always be more powerful than darkness. Light has shone in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.”

Her hair hid her face until she turned toward him. An angry red handprint marked the side of her face where he had struck, yet warmth glowed in her eyes.

“He can make you alive again,” she said reaching toward the legionnaire’s heart. There was such peace and love in her words that he flinched back from her hand.

She didn’t curse him like so many did before he went to kill them, she didn’t beg for mercy like others did either, or cower with fear…his personal favorite. She was reaching out to him in love, offering him the best life her faith made her believe she could give. He stared at her in wonder until an outside shadow was cast over his face again.

Annalias sneered in a mocking tone, “The same way He brought back your little Palestinian friend over there?”

When silence met his ears he laughed heartily, “I heard you praying for your God to bring him back.”

Annalias wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, “Honestly, I’ve never seen anything so pitiful or entertaining in my life. If your God is life, as you say, then let the dead man speak.”

Roselyn simply looked up at him with pleading eyes. A faint voice was heard from a distance away.

“Yes.”

Both Roselyn and the legionnaire turned toward the sound. A bony black hand lifted against the torch-lit sky. Slowly Periah stood up, amazement in his eyes.

Dread filled the legionnaire and he looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“You were dead! Sebastian ran you through!” he breathed, taking shaky steps backward.

“I was,” Periah admitted, knowing he could very well be run through again, “and he did…but Someone touched my body.”

Periah began to shake as he unconsciously patted himself to make sure he was really living.

“I’ve seen death…and I’ve seen Life.” Periah too, was amazed that he was alive again.

Gabriel laid on the ground unable to move. He couldn’t see, but his ears picked up the distinctive pitch in Periah’s voice. A sound he had grown accustomed to over the months he had spent with Roselyn. Could it be?! In his gut he knew Periah was alive again. Thank you God. Joy and peace swelled within his soul even as his eyes rolled back and he fell into a state of temporary unconsciousness.

 Despite her own shock at seeing a dead man raised to life again Roselyn closed her eyes and spoke the words that resounded in her, words that burned in her like fire and began to overwhelm her. God was making His plea to Annalias.

“Please Annalias,” she cried, unable to control herself, “He loves you. Jesus loves you. He wants to make you whole again. He wants to give you life. He wants to take away from you the thing that has followed you and fed off your inner pain and the fears of others.”

Annalias turned to her as if she too were a phantom. His sword dropped from his hand.

Just then Roselyn’s tender maple eyes opened. A holy light of love filled them and she spoke what she heard, “He wants to give you the breath of life.”

Annalias saw a divine Presence within her, a Presence more powerful than the deadly presence that was familiar to him. He saw Life that was stronger than death stand before him and in fear he took off running. His hobbled footsteps were heard against the pavement.

“He loves you,” she whispered to his back, seeing his fate was worse than any he had killed or any Rome had tortured, “D-don’t flee.”

She was heartbroken as his figure disappeared. At that moment she knew what it meant to love your enemies and to pray for those who persecute you. All she wanted for him was salvation, for the love of God to ravish his heart and break off the spiritual darkness that used and abused him like pawn.

~This excerpt was taken from the chapter on Temptation & Spiritual Warfare: An allegory on loving your enemies and victory in Jesus.