Truth or Lies

Truth or Lies

His dark eyes squinted in the hot, tropical sun. He was steely, poised and purposeful. It was December, 1944  and Hiroo Onoda had landed on Lubang Island, in the Philippines. Onoda was a loyal Intelligence officer in the Imperial Japanese Army, trained specifically in methods of gathering information from behind the enemy lines and to conduct guerrilla warfare. He quickly hid himself secretly in the thick, mountain jungle; linking up with other small groups of Japanese soldiers to win the war. Two months later, the Allied forces overran the island, conquering as they went and ending the lives of many Japanese soldiers  who valiantly fought on. Onoda moved deeper into the jungle, survival taking over. Fending for themselves, his small cell of three other soldiers, Akatsu, Shimada and Kozuka, strictly rationed their ammunition supplies and rice. Raiding local farms found on the ragged edges of the jungle, they supplemented their diet with coconuts and bananas. 

In October 1945, another cell discovered a leaflet in a local Filipino village, while out hunting for food. The leaflet read, “The war ended August 15th.  Come down from the mountains!”. Onoda and his fellow soldiers discussed the leaflet extensively and came to the conclusion it was Allied propaganda. They refused to believe it and resolutely continued to shoot at, raid and glean information on the islanders. They were still at war. Several months later, other leaflets were found with orders to surrender, printed on them from General Yamashita. They examined them closely for authenticity but decided they were once more a ploy of the enemy, after all, Japan could not have lost the war. More lies they concluded. Deeply loyal to his orders and highly suspicious of any brochure, Onoda rallied the guerrilla soldiers to continue on. More leaflets and newspapers came fluttering into the mountain jungle as planes flew overhead, seeking to reach the intelligence officers holed up in seclusion. Delegates from Japan using megaphones echoed the call to surrender through the lush, tangled undergrowth and from village to village. Onoda’s sharp mind and careful training enabled him to outwit all the deceptions that came his way. 

Ensconced deep in the heavy growth on the Island of Lubang, Onoda and his men continued to evade captivity and surrender. Five years later Akatsu slipped quietly away from Onoda and the others, deciding to give himself up. Now Onoda was more cautious, going deeper into hiding and taking fewer risks. Ten years on, Shimada was killed on a beach in a small skirmish with local villagers. Only Onoda and Kozuka remained to battle the enemy, stealthily and by themselves. Twenty seven years in total had now passed when a filipino  patrol shot and killed Kozuka. Onoda continued his mission in solitude for another two years as search parties, dispatched from Japan sought unsuccessfully to locate him. His evasive tactics and keenly sharpened senses kept him concealed from all.

The Cave where Onoda lived for 29 years

In 1974, Suzuki, a young, adventurous Japanese college student set out on a journey to discover the whereabouts of Onoda. With amazement, he happened upon the hideout and tried to unsuccessfully persuade Onoda to return with him. Again Onoda refused to believe. How could he surrender when his commanding officer had not issued such orders? It was lies, all lies. In 1975 Major Taniguchi was brought to Lubang to inform him that Japan had lost the war and to hand over his weapons and surrender to the Filipinos.  He wasted twenty nine years of his life believing that truth were lies and lies were truth. He raged with a seething storm inside of him. Although treated like a hero, he felt like a fool. He had unnecessarily lived a life of adversity and hardship. 

Am I like Onoda? Do I believe truth as lies and lies as truth? Do I live my life based on not believing the truth?  Stop and listen? Who do I say I am? Who do you say you are? What is my value, my worth, my purpose? Do I believe I am insignificant, of little value? Do I feel I am unloveable? God tells us we are of extreme value to Him, worth the blood and life of His son and that He created each one of us with a purpose that He planned before the foundation of the world. God loves each one of us with a love not based on our worthiness, or our ability to deserve it but simply because He is love and His love is poured out onto each one of us. Will I choose to believe God, who tells me the truth? Will I choose to live my life based on that truth? Or will I stay with the lies?

Eph 1:4,5 He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will

Jer 31:3 The LORD appeared to him from afar, saying, "I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.

Jer 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Decisive or Not?

Decisive or Not?

He was tiny, adorable, very loveable and I just had to buy him. I was working at the time near a busy pet shop that perpetually drew my avid attention. I was a newly wed and my very patient husband was starting to find a growing menagerie in our home. I added to our collection, a very cute and very sweet and very black puppy, whom we named Jeremiah. He fast became my husband’s dog, going every where with Michael. When Jeremiah was about two years old we moved onto a large sheep and cattle property in a rural Australia. Here Jeremiah’s loyalty and devotion to Michael grew stronger, as each day he went to work with my husband; sitting enthusiastically in an old milk crate attached to the back of a motor bike. My husband was a landscape gardener caring for  25 acres of picturesque gardens and rolling green lawns around the main homestead on the farm. Jeremiah enjoyed the great outdoors, faithfully following Michael around the gardens, chasing the birds with a quick dash, and a sharp bark, and killing snakes. Yes, Jeremiah was a snake dog.

Australia is known for it’s dangerous snakes. We have snakes here equipped with venom more toxic than snakes anywhere else in the world. On that sheep property we had our fair share of poisonous snakes that we regularly saw. I grew up in the bush and I had a healthy fear of them. Michael grew up in New Zealand, islands that blissfully contain not a single slithering creature, and they made Michael nervous. Jeremiah took on the role of protector, but it was a game. A snake dog, however, is known to be a dog that will one day get bitten. It’s a serious game of life and death, a Russian roulette between dog and snake. Jeremiah had his many battles, leaping aggressively forward at just the right moment, teeth clenched firmly behind the back of the scaly snake’s head and with the serpent writhing in desperation, Jeremiah would violently shake the snake until the game was won. Week after week, game after game, the play went on. 

One afternoon Michael and Jeremiah came roaring up the dirt road on the motor bike, dust swirling high, they were home for the evening. Michael placed a bowl of  dry dog food before Jeremiah, patted him lovingly on the head and came inside to wash up. However, Jeremiah wasn’t feeling so well. The food didn’t interest him, he lay quiet and still, huddled in a small ball by his kennel. We suddenly realised something was dreadfully wrong with Jeremiah. We went outside to anxiously attend to him, only to discover he was stiff and labouring in his breathing. He sadly passed away not long after that. He was a snake dog. He had given his final shake and lost.

That year the drought was bad, the dams on the property were drying up, the sheep were being sold off as the paddocks turned to dust, and the snakes were thirsty. They headed for water, and the greatest water source was the lake in front of our house. The snake population increased. We kept the family well protected through prayer and keeping the area around our house snake free. Thankfully, most of the snakes were not too aggressive and would wriggle away from the sight and sound of humans. Michael and I were walking on our dusty drive when my snake instincts kicked in and I leaped automatically away from where I had been walking. That one leap disturbed the venomous snake and it quickly slid through a small crack in a low stone wall and hid inside an unknown cavity within. That stone wall was within metres of our house and definitely not a suitable place for a deadly snake. Michael grabbed a shovel and I grabbed the hose. Pushing the hose into  another small dark hole nearby; with the water pump on, we forced lake water into that secret place. Michael stood courageously on the low stone wall, shovel poised in mid air and waited and waited and waited. Eventually an inky black head poked out, a forked tongue flickered in and out tasting the dirt, picking up a scent for safety and Michael struck with an immediate and resounding deadly strike. The snake was no more.

My girls sitting on that low stone wall with their pet chooks.

I wonder at times, do we play with the devil like Jeremiah did with the snake, just giving him a shake and not really being decisive, dancing around the fringes of the boundaries? Jesus crushed the serpent’s head at his death. It was decisive, conclusive and sure. Do we claim that promise and in earnestness allow Jesus to have the victory in our own lives? The great controversy is a biblical theme not just in the realm of the cosmos but in each of our own lives, personally and daily. What is God calling to me to say no to in my life today that I have been playing around with? Will I choose to say no?

1 Cor 15:57 ..but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Gen 3:15 And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.

Rom 16:20 The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.

No Ticket

No Ticket

We had been through a rough couple of months to add to our rough couple of years, leaving my husband, Michael and I fatigued and fragile. However,the past week had found us especially strengthened in Christ and filled with joy, energy returning, whilst in the midst of it all. I woke with enthusiasm and a bounce and started planning an extra special day out. The gorgeous spring weather had morphed into the heat of summer and I aimed for the coast. I discovered an event being held by the seashore that looked appealing and delightful. “ Sculpture by the Sea” was an exhibition of sculptures on display on the beautiful, scenic coastal walk between the famous Bondi Beach of Sydney and Tamara, two kilometres away. Over one hundred sculptures would be featured by Australian and world wide artists. I was keen and ready to go. I kept our destination as a special surprise from my husband and away we went.

The trip to Bondi was a long way from our home, requiring a series of various transportations over a period of 3 hours. The first leg of our journey found us taking the freeway south bound to Sydney. We planned to park at a railway station and proceed from there. We arrived at the station only to discover the stunning spring weather had encouraged local event organisers to fill up the park by the station with food stalls, entertainment, and attractions, which called forth a horde of people, filling the park to over flowing and making parking impossible. We drove onto find a car park at the next train station. It seemed quiet and lonely and I wondered why. We easily obtained a park and making our way in solitude, went to purchase train tickets. It was here we struck our first ticketing dilemma. The station was unmanned and a ticket machine stood stoically in place of a human being. Our train was due and I stood there accurately pushing money into the machine, pressing the right buttons, and out popped a pile of change and an inclusive train and bus ticket to Bondi Beach. Success and progress. We had one ticket. Now for the other. I pulled out another note and pushed it into the machine and started quickly repeating the pressing of all the buttons. Rejection. The machine returned our money. Not a problem. I simply prodded the money back into the machine and pressed the buttons again. Out spewed our money from the machine. In and out and in and out the note went. Now I was feeling frantic and helpless and desperately praying. I emptied my peach coloured purse out and discovered a handful of change to put into the machine. Hope. I slotted coin after coin into the machine. Suddenly, I was no longer able to place the last and eleventh coin inside. It closed down ten cents short. I rapidly read the fine print by the coin slot. The machine will accept only ten coins per ticket. My husband and I in panic started counting our coins out and sorting out how to turn eleven coins into ten but to no avail. It could not be done. Not a problem, we could still use a credit card. Then we heard a low rumbling and the ringing of metal on metal. Our train was coming and we couldn’t work fast enough. The train pulled in, the doors opened, people alighted, people stepped in, the doors shut, and the train moved on, without us. A wave of despair, sadness and “poor me” swept across my soul. Why couldn’t we just buy a simple ticket without some trial slashing out at us once more. Self rose up in me and I felt a resistance to the trial. I don’t want this. Couldn’t we simply have one day free from hassles? I said nothing  but in abject despair I started trying to purchase a ticket with my credit card. Time and again it was rejected. I stood there at a loss. How could we travel without a ticket?We had no choice but to take the journey without the second ticket.

When we reached Bondi Junction the thoughtful railway worker, who listened with understanding to our troubled story, waved me through and allowed me to travel for free. However, a new dilemma presented itself as we went to queue up for a bus to Bondi Beach. Michael had a bus ticket as part of his train ticket and I was yet to have any ticket. However, there were bus ticket machines, two of them side by side. I couldn’t go wrong this time, or could I? I went from one machine to the next, back and forth trying to purchase a bus ticket. Each time I was rejected. Finally to my amazement the machine accepted my coins, the hope of the ticket being in my hand was joyously expected but the machine only swallowed my money and sent forth no ticket. Again a wash of misery flooded over me. Again my soul felt pulled into a deep chasm of darkness and again the urge to resist the trial came upon me. I turned and saw a ticket salesman. I real live person. I was directed to how to obtain my ticket and upon finally receiving it in my hand, we excitedly boarded the bus and continued our journey to Bondi Beach.

We had a relaxed, carefree and happy time together as we walked the pathway by the seashore, enjoying the sculptures and revelling in the beauty of the ocean, the wide expanse of sky and the rugged rocky coastal line. However, God called to my heart. Twice I had been placed in a frustrating situation and twice I had emotionally responded with a swing from despair to resistance, from sadness to combativeness. Words from Bible verses flowed into my mind. James 1:2-4 “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” Joy? God wants me to feel joy? 1 Peter 4:12, 13 “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you, which comes upon you for your testing, as though some strange thing were happening to you; but to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing, so that also at the revelation of His glory you may rejoice with exultation.”

It seemed like such a small insignificant trial but on top of all we had been going through it had felt like the straw that broke the camels back. Jesus says, “Don’t be surprised by hard times, rejoice, have joy. It is a time to press closer to me, a time to hear my heart beat and know me on a deeper level. I too experienced trials and hardships. Come and experience the faith I had in those times.” I smile at how God took me from questioning gloom and contention to seeing the call to experience the faith of Jesus. This is the life He wants me to have. I smile. Not only did God reveal himself to me and show me His way, I ended up being five dollars ahead after I purchased my one way ticket, from a ticket salesman back to the car park.

James 1:12 Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

Mother Magpie and Pressured Plovers

Mother Magpie and Pressured Plovers

It was loud and persistent and noisy. I glanced curiously outside through the large window into our sunny backyard. There was a mother Australian Magpie with her young one running frantically behind her. The young one was hunched over, beak wide open and continuously demanding to be fed. Seemingly non flustered, the mother was resolutely picking up insect and worm, after insect and worm, and dashing systematically back and forth to the gaping, squawking beak of her baby. 

Australian Magpies are a medium sized robust bird, approximately sixteen inches in height. They  have very distinctive black and white markings. They are a common bird that lives across Australia and feeds quit happily in suburban back yards. Their beady, golden coloured eyes miss nothing; bright and alert they spend many hours on the ground in search of food. They have a strong functional beak that is white, tinged in blue with a whisper of black. Our mother magpie was busy watching for predators, feeding her young one and in the midst of it all, trying to gain some food for herself. Her baby was out of the nest now but barely old enough to fly. She would flutter haphazardly and eat a lot. 

This mother magpie and her baby came to our yard to feed regularly over several weeks. I could see them perched up in a rugged gum tree, gazing down at our yard, the baby always crying for food and the mother surveying the safety of the situation. She would wait for her moment and swoop  swiftly into our yard , coming to land near some invertebrate that had dared to move in our lawn, only to be joined by her noisy fledgling once food was obtained. Our dog perused the situation with nonchalance, allowing them to feed for while. Then with a sudden spurt of enthusiasm our dog would dash wildly towards the mother and her baby. The mother magpie would take off quickly to a safe distance and continue to watch. She was training her baby to defend herself. Almost an adult in height, with fluffy paler feathers, the baby would peck viciously towards my dog, who would back off. Then in crazy flight she would flutter towards the tree in the centre of our yard. Once at the tree, the young one would start scrambling up it’s rough trunk, clinging with it’s strong claws to the course bark, finally reaching the first branch. There she would rest until she was joined by her mother and the cheeping loudly for food would start all over again. Often throughout the day the mother magpie would pause in a distant tree to sing a series of pretty vocalisations of cheerfulness and joy before hastily attending to her baby once more.

While I have been enjoying the noisy magpies, my parents have had some nesting plovers at their house. In Australia our common plover is called a Masked Lapwing. They are a long-legged wading bird with a sooty head, grey body, snowy belly and bright yellow facial wattles. The breeding plover pair, after much deliberation, chose to lay their clutch of eggs in a small indentation on my parent’s grassy front lawn, only one foot away from the cement curb. There out in the open beside the road, the parent birds took patient turns in sitting on the four specked eggs and in vigilantly keeping all predators away from their nest. Cars drove close by, the garbage truck rumbled inches away, stopping to pick up and empty the garbage bins strategically placed by my parents away from the nest, children ran down the road, cars parked next to the nest and all the while the plovers sat and sat and sat. Recently a very damaging storm hit the Sydney area, travelling up the coastline to where my parents live. There in the middle of the night, torrential rains fell, jagged lightning lit up the sky and thunder rolled and crashed. Strong winds drove the rain sharply at angles, leaves swirled, branches broke, trees tumbled down, water gushed and all the time the little plovers sat and sat and sat. Wet and bedraggled, they endured through the storm. Yet when daylight came the plovers let out their trill cries of joy and gladness. 

The plovers and the mother magpie continued their songs of bright cheerfulness regardless of the pressure, dangers, stress, turmoil, and hunger they were enduring. They never faltered to lift their little heads and warble out their song. Am I like the birds when faced with times of discouragement, depression, pressure and stress, lifting my voice in praise to my God? Do I sing in bright joy, bringing gladness to my own heart, as my mind is lifted to heavenly places? God calls me to sing, to hum, to lift my voice in the light of His love, to dispel the clouds of gloom that try to settle on me.

Ps 100:1, 2 Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing!

Ps 147:1 Praise the Lord! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting.

Ps 13:6 I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Joey in a Pouch

Joey in a Pouch

For a very short time our family had an unusual pet. We had a baby kangaroo, a joey. His mother had been tragically hit by a passing truck at the side of the road one evening. She was killed instantly and left lying in a pool of blood in a patch of rugged wild grass beside the bitumen highway. A passer by kindly stopped, checked her pouch and discovered a young joey, safe and warm and snug inside, but now all alone in the world. We delightfully accepted the care of the young joey as he was finally passed onto our family. 

The Australian kangaroo lives in a social group called a mob. They are well known for hopping on their strong, hind legs, while using their muscular tails for balance as they manoeuvre around and stand still.The males box each other quite vigorously, which includes kicking with their hind feet, to establish dominance. Female kangaroos give birth to a joey about once a year, after a one month gestation period. The little joey is born hairless and blind and is smaller than a bee. He climbs into the mother’s pouch, stays there to nurse and to continue to develop for 120-400 days. Joeys often peek their heads out of the pouch to look around several weeks before they take off on their own. Our little joey that came to us had been just starting to emerge from the pouch and was beginning to nibble little bits of grass.

Our family enjoyed our gentle joey. We named him Jessie. We created a pouch for him by placing a pillowslip  padded with an old towel on the back of a wooden chair. Jessie would hop awkwardly around the kitchen, then thrusting his head into the pillow case he would then summersault into his “pouch’, sometimes leaving his tail or hind feet protruding slightly. Our little Jessie was unlike other pets our family had had before regarding his body space, there was always more to him. I would see his little, furry, soft ,grey head down beside me in the kitchen as he stood, but I would always find myself forgetting that a long strong tail ran along the linoleum floor behind him. Numerous times I tripped and stumbled over his prominent tail. Jessie was still being nursed, almost fully, when he came to us. A trip to the local vet gave us  supplies in special, very long, thin kangaroo teats, bottles and formula. When we took him outside to enjoy a little hop around and to allow him the delights of taste testing grass, we could only call him back to us by producing the pillowslip, upon which he would hop over to us, and tuck himself away into the pillowcase pouch. Our joey was cute and fun and we enjoyed him very much.

The pouch for our joey was his safety and his protection. I have felt inside a mother kangaroo’s pouch several times. They are soft, very warm, and snug, nurturing places for a baby joey to curl into. When my best friend visited from the USA , we took a day trip to an animal farm where there were tame kangaroos that you could feed and pat. I encouraged my friend to have quick feel of the warm  softness that little joeys snuggle into. My friend had a look of wonderment on her face as she was able to feel for a moment the world of a baby kangaroo.

The Bible often encourages us to be “in Christ”. The apostle Paul used the term numerous times and it seemed to be his favourite way of expressing our relationship to Christ. What does that mean? How can I be “in Christ”? To me the wonder of the kangaroo pouch gives me a glimmer into a life “in Christ”. For a joey, he is “in the pouch”. This environment is a place of protection, of sustenance, it is nurturing, a place of care, of love. In the pouch he is watched over tenderly and in constant contact and connection with his mother. This is the life of what being “in Christ” means to me. I am in  a constant, connected relationship with Christ that is nurturing, protecting, sustaining and full of His care and love for me. 

2 Cor 5:17 Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come

Rom 8:1 Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Eph 2:13 But now in Christ Jesus you who formerly were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

Dogs Don't Chase Parked Cars

Dogs Don't Chase Parked Cars

When I first married my loving husband, Michael, he worked for the South Pacific Division of the SDA church, here in Australia. We lived in a comfortable home owned by the Division office, that was located on a main thoroughfare of traffic. We had a gaggle of pets, a new born baby and a beautiful collie dog named Prince. Prince was gifted to us via a neighbour, who had sadly parted from him as he accepted a call to mission work, in Papua New Guinea.

Prince, a large and active dog, was handsome in every way. His rough, long, full coat of fur shimmered with tones of cream, white and tan, while flecks of sable flanked his face. He was elegant and graceful in his movements, appearing to float over the ground as he ran joyously around our grassy yard. Prince was charming, loyal and affectionate in every way, responsive to Michael and I. His deep brown eyes in his wedge shaped head, held a look of intelligence, excitement and love. He was a devoted dog, soft and gentle with our growing baby. Prince was the perfect family dog but he had one major weakness, his love for chasing cars.

Collie dogs historically come from Scotland and England where they have, for many centuries, lived as working dogs, herding cattle and sheep. Their main task as drover dogs was to guide the cattle and sheep to the markets. In the 1860’s, the then reigning regal Queen Victoria, visited the picturesque Scottish Highlands, fell in love with the collie dog and brought this breed into popularity. The beautiful collie dog was thrust into the limelight in 1943 with the release of the Hollywood Movie, “Lassie Come Home” and the subsequent movies and television series has kept this breed in demand.

Our gorgeous Prince had all the personality and tenaciousness of Lassie mixed in with the desire to run and herd of the Scottish Highland canine of long ago. Our fully fenced yard kept Prince’s desire to chase cars safely contained. One night, however, while we lay sleeping exhaustedly between  the feeding times of our newly born daughter, a neighbour frantically started knocking at our bedroom window and calling out anxiously to us. Startled out of a deep sleep, my husband attended to our neighbour. Our darling Prince had managed to escape from our yard and had dashed up our road ,that was frequented with traffic, to enjoy his past time of ‘herding cars’. On this occasion however, Prince was hit. With eagerness he had crouched by the road side waiting for his next car, a hunter green rover. Prince leaped out for the chase, but in his anticipation of the thrill before him, his timing was out, and instead of finding himself racing wildly after the car, barking in frenzied delight, he ran straight into the side of the car. The thud and the crumpled, forlorn, isolated figure of a dog by the roadside, seen in the review mirror, alerted the driver. He stopped and upon inspection of his car, which had been damaged, he set out to find the owner, discovering our friendly neighbour in the process. My husband exchanged contact details with the owner of the expensive rover, and scooping our bedraggled dog into his arms, he loving brought him home. 

Prince had been tragically injured. After X-rays and an examination at the local vet it was ascertained his two front legs had been painfully broken. Patiently he endured his time spent at the vets where his front legs were placed in  fibre glass casts and bandaged, making walking almost impossible, or so we thought. With all the perseverance of his breed he did manage his own version of hobbling as we faithfully cared for him. Meanwhile, all was not well with the owner of the dark, mossy, green, expensive rover. It seemed our dog had chosen to plummet feet first into the car of an insurance con man. He was known by insurance companies for his dishonest claims. Initially, he used all his charms to convince us to cover the costs of the damage to his car, which he was increasing dramatically by the day. I prayed. We prayed. God heard our cry for help. In a panic of despair I was led to call our insurance company for advice, only to discover a small clause in own home contents policy that covered damage created by pets, even to ones that chase cars. Joyfully, we contacted the Rover owner to let him know he could deal directly with our insurance provider. Anger, bullying and control tactics were all used to coerce us into dropping our insurance company from the situation. We were legally able to prevent all contact with the intimidating man, discovered his history and left his predicament with our insurance company to handle. 

We knelt in thankful praise to God for his financial protection. Prince went on to heal, his desire to herd cars remained, but our vigilance prevented him from anymore opportunities to fulfil his  doggy dreams. Dogs don’t chase parked cars. They chase cars that are moving speedily forward. Sometimes in life it can feel like the devil is just chasing us down. He knows how to hit us hard when God is doing great things in our lives. Crises after crises tumbles one upon the other in quick succession, finances crumble, health stumbles, relationships falter, hearts break, death stalks and patience is tried. God seems silent and life feels chaotically spiralling into a dark place. Keep moving forward. Keep holding on to God, persevere in prayer, talk faith, think faith, sing praises even when you don’t feel like it. Keep on keeping on with Jesus. God is moving you into the purpose for your life. Dogs don’t chase parked cars. God is moving you forward into all that He has for you. There is a rainbow after the rain and the dawn comes after the darkest of nights. Hold on to Jesus, He’s holding onto you.

Eph 6:10-12 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the full armour of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places

James 4:7,8 Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.

The Gift of a Friend

The Gift of a Friend

Liquid pools of darkest depths,

Glisten and shine.

Heart's open words unspoken,

Dance.

Soul's immersed thoughts surfacing,

Shimmering bright,

Deepest love cascading down,

Joy.

Our hearts meet overflowing.

I hear her words.

I know her thoughts.

Souls entwine in quietness,

Trust.