Author: Ashley McClelland

~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.

~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

~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.

~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

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

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.

~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.

~A short snippet following the romance of Noble and Trisha.

“Trish I’m not going to play games with you. Call me unromantic if you will.”

She stood still, stunned into silence.

Her deep brown eyes widened into ovals.

“I’ve called you father, I’ve asked his blessing. I’ve prayed about this to God, and felt His peace about it. You’re the one that I want.”

She glanced away and I cupped her face with my hand, gently turning her back to me.

“The only one,” I continued, “and you want me too,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

I shoved my doubts down and inwardly rebuked them.

I had prayed for a sign and God had given me the dream.

She wanted me.

She loved me.

And she had cried over me.

I had to believe that dream was from God.

I had made a choice to take God at His word and I wasn’t going to back down now…especially being in such hot water.

I was throwing my heart on the line here.

“I love you,” I rasped, looking clearly in her eyes.

My gaze flickered over to her lips before lifting again.

“Noble,” she breathed and moved to inch back.

“No,” I protested and gripped her shoulders.

She wouldn’t evade the subject again.

She would listen.

And she would give me a yes or no answer.

I don’t know what was keeping her away from me.

What was this inner mindset that she had that played in her head like a riddle?

Why did she insist on seeing herself as a single woman forever?

Was this born out of pride or poor self-evaluation?

My hands gentled on her shoulders as I felt her body relax.

“Say it,” I said moving my face near hers.

Her eyes became pools of tears.

“Say it,” I repeated pressing my forehead against hers.

I felt her stiffen and then tremble.

Her bottom lip quivered in the frosty air before she let out a choked, “I love you,”

It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

Tears streamed down her eyes and made trails on her cheeks.

“I love you too,” I said happily and backed away just enough so I could cup her face with both of my hands.

“Now finish it beloved,” my voice richened with emotion.

“Yes. I’ll marry you,” the words came out like tears and at the sight of her open mouth I bent my neck to take in her lips.

I felt her mouth before I touched it.

It was like an electric pull—and then softness—moist delicious softness.

My heart ached the more I kissed her.

Our breaths mingled in the air and were visible as their heat melted the cold around them before frosting.

Her hands slid up my arms and then around my neck.

I forced myself to pull away before passion could even have the chance of taking over.

In her eyes I saw a new sparkle.

Her brown nose was rosy from crying.

She sniffled and then smiled the brightest smile I had ever seen her give.

I smiled in admiration as something like adoration swelled within my chest.

Bending down I kissed her forehead like I would a little girls’ and tugged her winter cap on more securely.

“There,” I said with a world of meaning behind that one word.

There it was done.

There she was mine.

There, fear had been dispelled.

There God had proven Himself faithful.

There, God had proven Himself generous in yet another way.

There, her cap was fixed.

There all doubts had been broken.

There, we’d spend the rest of our lives together.

There…

~To read my book on divine love check out my book, Romantic Rendezvous for the Soul, click here 🙂