When most hear the question "What's in your wallet?", their mind ultimately goes to the Capital One commercial, talking about how beneficial their credit card is to have. For me, it's the dust in my wallet or the lint in my pocket where money isn't. But this question came to my mind today for another reason. One, not necessarily related to money, but rather something intangible.
It's no secret that I have been a follower of Jesus Christ for many years; 18 to be exact. I like to believe that my faith is unshakable, that I am fully confident in God's abilities and that I fully trust Him, but the truth is all of these things are a daily struggle for me. Let me say unequivocally that this is not because God has failed me ever, It is because, I, in the face of trial, fail God. I revert to self-preservation and what I can do to fix my situation, even when it seems beyond anything I am capable of. Of course I will pray and ask God to help with whatever situation I am facing, but as quick as I say the word, Amen, I pick back up the fear, the anxiety, the pain, the disillusionment, the anger, the sorrow, or situation that I just offered to Him. Instead of trusting things in His capable hands, I pick them right back up, in my own weak and feeble hands. And guess what, it just leads to more anxiety, fear, pain, disillusionment, anger and sorrow.
When life is good and things are going well, complacency sets in and my prayer life, for myself, becomes non-existent. I will fervently pray for the needs of others and thank God when He has answered the prayers lifted for others, but when it comes to daily communion with God, to just acknowledge all He has given me, sadly, I fail at that. I'm ashamed to admit that I am guilty of putting God in my pocket, like a credit card, to be pulled out when I "need" Him.
I am not deflecting because I am guilty of everything below, but I think that a lot of people are guilty of this as well. When our marriages are happy and life is just rolling along, God is in our pockets. We aren't thanking Him for the blessing of our spouse or our children and we take the good times for granted. But when our marriages hit a rocky patch and anger, disillusionment, resentment and pain, bubble to the surface, we reach for our pocket and pull out the God card. Suddenly, we are on our knees praying for God to fix whatever the problems may be and we flood social media with references of God like He's our newest best friend.
When our finances are in ruins and the bills are beyond what is coming in, hopelessness sets in. There's fear of losing your home; you hide your vehicle to keep it from being repossessed and the only time your telephone rings is when a bill collector calls. It all becomes so overwhelming and frightening. You don't know where to turn, so you reach for your pocket and pull out the God card.
Feelings of failure and uselessness set in when we lose a job. Our self-esteem and self-worth go down the toilet because we feel we have no purpose. Everyday tasks become a chore because depression sets in and even getting out of bed becomes difficult. Not knowing where to turn, we reach for the God card in our pocket.
An unexpected diagnosis, chronic illness, depression, anxiety, and even death, all times when you feel you have no where else to turn, you reach for what's in your pocket, God.
Let me be very clear in this, God WANTS you to come to Him all your troubles. He wants you to trust Him with your every need. He wants you to express your anger, your sorrow, your disillusionment, and your pain. "Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened. And I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 God desires to be your source and strength when you are in need. But what He desires above all is a relationship with you that is not one of convenience. God desires to hear our joys and our thankfulness. He desires to hear our worship and our praise. God wants to know that we love Him and more than anything He wants to know that we recognize how much He loves us.
Even in our unfaithfulness, He is faithful! "If we are faithless, He remains faithful; He cannot deny Himself." 2 Timothy 2:13
There is a huge difference between the cards we decide to pull out of our pockets. If I pull the credit card out when I need it, its satisfies the immediate need or want; the pair of shoes, the groceries, that slice of pizza. While some credit cards offer benefits for their use, the fact remains that it's going to cost me for quite some time. The God card is not a credit card. It is not intended to be used just when you need it. It's intended to be used at all times, without cost. There is no interest, no annual APR and no redeemable points, but this card never expires, has a limitless credit limit and isn't just for wants or needs. This card entitles you to a constant companion; a lifelong partner; someone who wants to share all aspects of your life,good and bad. And yes, its good for our needs as well. The cost to use this card is simple, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart,with all your soul and with all your mind." Matthew 22:37.
When you apply for and accept the God card, the rewards are endless. Your problems won't necessary all disappear, but facing them will be much easier than without it. With every use, your faith will become stronger, loneliness will disappear, peace will be restored to your soul and joy will find you again.
So in closing, I'm asking, "What's is your wallet?" Do you need to pull that God card out and keep it in your hand? Has God been your go to person with everything that is going on in your life, good and bad or has He been your credit card? Credit cards can get you in trouble; God never will.
Until next time, I've got my God card out and I'm gonna use it until it smokes!
God Bless,
Cat
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Not The Flesh But The Spirit
I have sat down to write this blog several times over the past week, even started a few sentences only to have the words elude me. As I've told my readers, I write when the Spirit instructs me and when that happens the words fly from my fingertips. Obviously, what I was trying to write was not Spirit filled and when I look back at the feelings I was having, there is no doubt. See feelings of hatred are not from the Spirit. The Spirit is a source of Love, Peace, Compassion, and Hope. I can honestly say, I have not been Spirit filled these past few days.
On April 23, I was reminded that 37 years ago, my father, Sergeant Robert Barlow of the Baltimore City Police Department, died in the line of duty. He wasn't shot by a perpetrator, but died of a massive heart attack after saving the lives of four different people while on duty. With all of the hatred directed at the Baltimore City Police Department, I couldn't help but take it personally and this angered me. Not only did my father die, protecting and serving the city I grew up in, but I have many friends and family members that have sworn to do the same thing and are holding the thin blue line as we speak. I suppose it is the sinner in me that naturally wants to rant, place blame, and point fingers at the rioters and their senseless acts of violence. Naturally, I want to blame government officials for the way the did or didn't handle things. And I passed judgment on the parents of the ones involved. I wanted to and have responded with negative comments on social media all in the name of "getting my point" across. Definitely, not the act of the Spirit, but of my flesh.
As I sat glued to the television last night, watching the destruction unfold before my eyes and listening to the police scanner reporting violence in the very neighborhood I grew up in, it hit me. No amount of complaining on social media; no amount of finger pointing and no amount of name calling is going to make a difference. The only thing that can make a difference is God and His Holy Spirit. After Jesus was tried, convicted and put death, He rose again and appeared to His followers. He didn't return to name call, point fingers, or seek vengeance on those who wrongly accused Him; instead He returned and baptized His followers with the Holy Spirit, commissioning them to go into the world and spread the Gospel.
We are living in a lost society. A society where many feel hopeless, abandoned, lost, confused, angry and hurt. Those that do not know or have not witnessed the love of the Lord Jesus Christ, through His followers, have nothing to hang their hat on but their earthly ways. Their actions and reactions are based on these empty, fleshly emotions. I can understand that. When I lost my father, I was 12 years old. I was angry, really angry and that anger followed me and festered within me well into my early twenties. I acted and reacted in the most destructive ways, because I didn't know any other way. It wasn't until I was introduced to the grace, mercy and love of Jesus, that my soul was healed. That introduction came through people who didn't cram the Bible down my throat or drag me into a church service, rather they simply showed me through their actions, the same unconditional love, acceptance and forgiveness they had through the Lord. Recognizing their peace, made me want what they had.
The solidarity of those preachers who marched through Baltimore City in front of the officers, yesterday was an example of the peace that is promoted by Jesus Christ. It was a living, breathing example of what we are told in the book of Romans. Chapter 12, verse 21 says, "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." Unfortunately, this one act is not going to be enough to change years of disillusionment. However, the good news is that our God is relentless in His pursuit of the lost and as His disciples, we should also be relentless. The time is now for the followers of God to actively pursue, with love and prayer, the lost.
James 1:27 says, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." The orphans and widows are our neighbors; these angry young people who know no other way to express themselves then through violence. It is time for us to unite and make it our mission to pray for, work with, mentor and educate our young generation. Not with brimstone and fire, but with love, understanding and compassion.
Every follower of God, is commissioned to do these things, though each in the way they are called. Some are called to march in peace; some are called to provide food and drinks for our law enforcement; some are called to join in mentoring programs; some are called to stand on corners; some are called to help in the clean up and some are called to pray in solitude. Romans 8:5, "Those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires." But what we are all called to do is love one another. After all that is the great commandment. Matthew 22:37-39, And He said to them, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And you shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Today, I implore everyone to let the Spirit lead you, but I encourage everyone to share a smile and a kind word with a stranger. I encourage everyone to pray for redemption, healing, safety and resolution for the Gray family, the disillusioned rioters, our law enforcement and military, the City of Baltimore and State of Maryland and their leaders as well as our country as a whole. God is using these events as a teachable moment for everyone. Let's learn from it; grow from it and further the Kingdom because of it. God is and always will be in control and His Spirit will triumph in all of this.
For my part in the "hating", I ask for forgiveness. The Spirit has convicted me.
Until next time, I pray the Lord Jesus bless and protect everyone!
Cat
On April 23, I was reminded that 37 years ago, my father, Sergeant Robert Barlow of the Baltimore City Police Department, died in the line of duty. He wasn't shot by a perpetrator, but died of a massive heart attack after saving the lives of four different people while on duty. With all of the hatred directed at the Baltimore City Police Department, I couldn't help but take it personally and this angered me. Not only did my father die, protecting and serving the city I grew up in, but I have many friends and family members that have sworn to do the same thing and are holding the thin blue line as we speak. I suppose it is the sinner in me that naturally wants to rant, place blame, and point fingers at the rioters and their senseless acts of violence. Naturally, I want to blame government officials for the way the did or didn't handle things. And I passed judgment on the parents of the ones involved. I wanted to and have responded with negative comments on social media all in the name of "getting my point" across. Definitely, not the act of the Spirit, but of my flesh.
As I sat glued to the television last night, watching the destruction unfold before my eyes and listening to the police scanner reporting violence in the very neighborhood I grew up in, it hit me. No amount of complaining on social media; no amount of finger pointing and no amount of name calling is going to make a difference. The only thing that can make a difference is God and His Holy Spirit. After Jesus was tried, convicted and put death, He rose again and appeared to His followers. He didn't return to name call, point fingers, or seek vengeance on those who wrongly accused Him; instead He returned and baptized His followers with the Holy Spirit, commissioning them to go into the world and spread the Gospel.
We are living in a lost society. A society where many feel hopeless, abandoned, lost, confused, angry and hurt. Those that do not know or have not witnessed the love of the Lord Jesus Christ, through His followers, have nothing to hang their hat on but their earthly ways. Their actions and reactions are based on these empty, fleshly emotions. I can understand that. When I lost my father, I was 12 years old. I was angry, really angry and that anger followed me and festered within me well into my early twenties. I acted and reacted in the most destructive ways, because I didn't know any other way. It wasn't until I was introduced to the grace, mercy and love of Jesus, that my soul was healed. That introduction came through people who didn't cram the Bible down my throat or drag me into a church service, rather they simply showed me through their actions, the same unconditional love, acceptance and forgiveness they had through the Lord. Recognizing their peace, made me want what they had.
The solidarity of those preachers who marched through Baltimore City in front of the officers, yesterday was an example of the peace that is promoted by Jesus Christ. It was a living, breathing example of what we are told in the book of Romans. Chapter 12, verse 21 says, "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." Unfortunately, this one act is not going to be enough to change years of disillusionment. However, the good news is that our God is relentless in His pursuit of the lost and as His disciples, we should also be relentless. The time is now for the followers of God to actively pursue, with love and prayer, the lost.
James 1:27 says, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." The orphans and widows are our neighbors; these angry young people who know no other way to express themselves then through violence. It is time for us to unite and make it our mission to pray for, work with, mentor and educate our young generation. Not with brimstone and fire, but with love, understanding and compassion.
Every follower of God, is commissioned to do these things, though each in the way they are called. Some are called to march in peace; some are called to provide food and drinks for our law enforcement; some are called to join in mentoring programs; some are called to stand on corners; some are called to help in the clean up and some are called to pray in solitude. Romans 8:5, "Those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires." But what we are all called to do is love one another. After all that is the great commandment. Matthew 22:37-39, And He said to them, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And you shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Today, I implore everyone to let the Spirit lead you, but I encourage everyone to share a smile and a kind word with a stranger. I encourage everyone to pray for redemption, healing, safety and resolution for the Gray family, the disillusioned rioters, our law enforcement and military, the City of Baltimore and State of Maryland and their leaders as well as our country as a whole. God is using these events as a teachable moment for everyone. Let's learn from it; grow from it and further the Kingdom because of it. God is and always will be in control and His Spirit will triumph in all of this.
For my part in the "hating", I ask for forgiveness. The Spirit has convicted me.
Until next time, I pray the Lord Jesus bless and protect everyone!
Cat
Monday, March 30, 2015
This Blood is For You
The darkness of the room provided a certain security from the outside world. Although light does not illuminate the room she sits curled up in, the sun shines brightly on the other side of the tightly drawn drapes. Those drapes are representative of the charade she portrays to everyone around her; a barrier of sorts. To everyone who knows her, she's quirky and funny; strong in her faith in God and happy. On the inside, there is a cyclone of insecure and destructive thoughts, swirling within her soul.
Tears stream down her face and these thoughts cut deep. You are ugly! You are fat! You are weak! You have failed your family! Who could possibly want to be your friend? And your husband! Let's talk about your husband! He deserves so much more than you! You are reckless and your household finances are in shambles! You are worth more dead than you are alive! Just give up! Give it up already! The words are loud, furious, and cutting, but exactly how she is feeling.
The tears flow so freely, that she feels them drip onto her arms and her tightly clasped hands, but as she reaches to wipe them, she is horrified at what she sees. Blood! Droplets of blood freckle her arms and hands. Bewildered at the sight of blood, where she thought there were tears, she instinctively touches her face and her hands are now covered in blood. Horror, envelopes her and she runs to the bathroom to see from where this blood is coming. Flipping on the light switch, her eyes instantly meet the image in the mirror; her face, tear stained, but no blood. Fearing she has finally completely lost her mind, she crumples in a heap on the bathroom floor. Still staring at the speckles of blood on her arms and the smears on her palms, a whisper of a voice is heard above the pounding of her heart. "Sadie, this blood is for you."
The rain is falling on this cool spring day and huddled under a bridge of a neighborhood park, sits a lonely young man. Empty beer and soda cans, candy wrappers, paper bags, and dirty discarded needles are the carpet in his home. A shopping cart harbors every belonging he has left in his life and a green garbage bag is his shelter from the rain that falls through the cracks of the bridge above him. His body is trembling, not from the cold dampness of the rain, but because his body craves relief from withdrawal. His scrambled thoughts struggle to focus.
He never thought this would be his life. He hadn't aspired to be a homeless addict, who begged and stole to support this habit that has consumed him. On the contrary, he had always wanted a career in law enforcement; to follow in his father's footsteps. He had the perfect childhood. He grew up in a middle class neighborhood with both parents who loved him dearly. And then one day, everything changed. His father was gone; dead from a heart attack and he was the one who found him. That image was imprinted on his brain with indelible ink. He lashed out at everyone around him and began to binge drink and party. To his family and everyone who knew him, he was just a thug, a trouble maker, but on the inside, he was dying bit by bit. Sober thoughts only led back to that horrific day. But alcohol and drugs created a euphoria that no one could understand, emptiness, thoughtlessness and numbness. Even as he sits convulsing in pain from withdrawal the image of his father haunts his thoughts and the pain of that day is almost greater than the pain of withdrawal.
Just as that day has been imprinted in his mind, so are the disparaging remarks that those who claimed to love him made. You are worthless! You're a thug! You disgust me! You smell! You should be ashamed of yourself! Look what you're doing to your family! You are an embarrassment to your family! This young man sits under the bridge empty and alone.
Drip, drip, drip, is the sound of water hitting the garbage bag that protects his head, but now he feels the trickle of something down his right cheek and again on the left. He takes his dirty hand and wipes his face, sure that it is rain that has found a chink in his armor. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he notices the red color of blood. Another drip and then another and when he looks at his hand it is covered in blood. He staggers to his feet, barely able to support his own weight and rummages through the shopping cart for the broken mirror that is among his prized possessions. As he lifts it to his face, he expects that this is somehow the end for him; that his addiction has finally caused this random hemorrhaging. But as he peers at the image in the broken mirror, there is no blood, yet every drip he wipes away appears in red on his hand. From over his shoulder, whisper comes, "Andrew, this blood is for you."
Exhausted, she collapses onto the sofa. Toys litter the floor and dinner dishes are piled high in the sink. After a twelve hour shift, homework, dinner and baths, she has nothing left. In eight short hours it will start all over. On the day she said, "I do", she never envisioned herself alone and raising three small children. She had had it all; a husband, three beautiful children, a home in the suburbs, and a mini-van. She gave up her career the day she and her husband found out they were expecting their first child and had remained home from that point on. Her job was to raise their girls, keep the house tidy and have dinner ready when her husband returned home. It was the best career she could ask for.
After 10 years of marriage, slowly things began to change. Her husband began missing family dinners and children's parties. His hours became longer at work and what time he did spend at home was with their girls. She began to think that it was because of her. She hadn't lost all the baby weight and she didn't always look the best when her husband came home. So, she began to diet and workout. She made sure her hair was combed, makeup on, and she was out of sweats when and if her husband came home. But he still showed no interest and his time at home became less and less.
On a snowy, Monday morning as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she found an envelope with her name on it, perched on the counter against the coffee machine. Her heart sank instantly as if it already knew what the letter would say. Her husband was gone and he wasn't coming back. He had met someone and had fallen out of love with her. Her heart could hardly believe what her eyes were reading. Her life had completely changed in a six line letter.
Now, working again as a nurses aide, just to pay rent on a two bedroom apartment and food the table, she wonders if she can continue to do it. Instead of sleep, she musters the strength to clean up the toys and wash the dishes, before she has to sit at the table to figure out what bill she can pay. Electric, water, cable, rent, food, or new shoes for the girls. As she separates the bills into piles and stares at the near empty bank account, she feels something hit her on top of the head and then again. She looks up expecting the ceiling to burst open but there is no sign of anything. "I'm really losing it," she thinks to herself and looks back to her bills. Splatter after splatter of blood cover the bills and her checkbook. Certain, she must be bleeding from somewhere, she grabs the closest thing she can, the toaster. As she scans her face and pushes her hair back from her forehead, she is startled at the whisper that comes from beside her, "Julie, this blood is for you."
Whose stories are these? They can or could be the story of any one of us. Somewhere right now, someone is lost in depression. Somewhere right now, an addict doesn't see any other way. Somewhere right now, a single Mom or Dad is struggling to just get by. Somewhere right now, someone received a cancer diagnosis. Somewhere right now, someone is saying a final goodbye to someone they love. Somewhere right now, someone is holding on to anger, unable to forgive. Somewhere right now, a young child is being lure into a gang or being assaulted by someone they trust. Somewhere right now, someone feels like they have nothing left to live for.
But there is that Whisper...if we just listen. This blood is for you.
The blood that Jesus Christ shed on the cross was not for the perfect person. IMPOSSIBLE! There are no perfect people. The blood that Jesus Christ shed on the cross was for the addict, the worn out parent, the homeless, the person beaten down by depression, the prostitute, the banker, the check out clerk, the pastor and the painter. Luke 19:10 tells us, "The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost." Let's face it, we are all lost, in one way or another. His blood is in discriminate. It was shed for any who believe in His death and resurrection for the forgiveness of our sins.
In a few days, Christians around the world will recognize with somber humility Good Friday, the day of His Crucifixion. As those spikes are driven into His hands and feet, with each drop of blood that hits the ground, I believe He is saying, "Cathy, this blood is for you," and "____________ this blood is for you." You fill it in, He already did the hard part.
Until next time, may the Whisper be ever present in your heart.
Have a Blessed Easter!
He Is Risen!
Cat
Tears stream down her face and these thoughts cut deep. You are ugly! You are fat! You are weak! You have failed your family! Who could possibly want to be your friend? And your husband! Let's talk about your husband! He deserves so much more than you! You are reckless and your household finances are in shambles! You are worth more dead than you are alive! Just give up! Give it up already! The words are loud, furious, and cutting, but exactly how she is feeling.
The tears flow so freely, that she feels them drip onto her arms and her tightly clasped hands, but as she reaches to wipe them, she is horrified at what she sees. Blood! Droplets of blood freckle her arms and hands. Bewildered at the sight of blood, where she thought there were tears, she instinctively touches her face and her hands are now covered in blood. Horror, envelopes her and she runs to the bathroom to see from where this blood is coming. Flipping on the light switch, her eyes instantly meet the image in the mirror; her face, tear stained, but no blood. Fearing she has finally completely lost her mind, she crumples in a heap on the bathroom floor. Still staring at the speckles of blood on her arms and the smears on her palms, a whisper of a voice is heard above the pounding of her heart. "Sadie, this blood is for you."
The rain is falling on this cool spring day and huddled under a bridge of a neighborhood park, sits a lonely young man. Empty beer and soda cans, candy wrappers, paper bags, and dirty discarded needles are the carpet in his home. A shopping cart harbors every belonging he has left in his life and a green garbage bag is his shelter from the rain that falls through the cracks of the bridge above him. His body is trembling, not from the cold dampness of the rain, but because his body craves relief from withdrawal. His scrambled thoughts struggle to focus.
He never thought this would be his life. He hadn't aspired to be a homeless addict, who begged and stole to support this habit that has consumed him. On the contrary, he had always wanted a career in law enforcement; to follow in his father's footsteps. He had the perfect childhood. He grew up in a middle class neighborhood with both parents who loved him dearly. And then one day, everything changed. His father was gone; dead from a heart attack and he was the one who found him. That image was imprinted on his brain with indelible ink. He lashed out at everyone around him and began to binge drink and party. To his family and everyone who knew him, he was just a thug, a trouble maker, but on the inside, he was dying bit by bit. Sober thoughts only led back to that horrific day. But alcohol and drugs created a euphoria that no one could understand, emptiness, thoughtlessness and numbness. Even as he sits convulsing in pain from withdrawal the image of his father haunts his thoughts and the pain of that day is almost greater than the pain of withdrawal.
Just as that day has been imprinted in his mind, so are the disparaging remarks that those who claimed to love him made. You are worthless! You're a thug! You disgust me! You smell! You should be ashamed of yourself! Look what you're doing to your family! You are an embarrassment to your family! This young man sits under the bridge empty and alone.
Drip, drip, drip, is the sound of water hitting the garbage bag that protects his head, but now he feels the trickle of something down his right cheek and again on the left. He takes his dirty hand and wipes his face, sure that it is rain that has found a chink in his armor. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he notices the red color of blood. Another drip and then another and when he looks at his hand it is covered in blood. He staggers to his feet, barely able to support his own weight and rummages through the shopping cart for the broken mirror that is among his prized possessions. As he lifts it to his face, he expects that this is somehow the end for him; that his addiction has finally caused this random hemorrhaging. But as he peers at the image in the broken mirror, there is no blood, yet every drip he wipes away appears in red on his hand. From over his shoulder, whisper comes, "Andrew, this blood is for you."
Exhausted, she collapses onto the sofa. Toys litter the floor and dinner dishes are piled high in the sink. After a twelve hour shift, homework, dinner and baths, she has nothing left. In eight short hours it will start all over. On the day she said, "I do", she never envisioned herself alone and raising three small children. She had had it all; a husband, three beautiful children, a home in the suburbs, and a mini-van. She gave up her career the day she and her husband found out they were expecting their first child and had remained home from that point on. Her job was to raise their girls, keep the house tidy and have dinner ready when her husband returned home. It was the best career she could ask for.
After 10 years of marriage, slowly things began to change. Her husband began missing family dinners and children's parties. His hours became longer at work and what time he did spend at home was with their girls. She began to think that it was because of her. She hadn't lost all the baby weight and she didn't always look the best when her husband came home. So, she began to diet and workout. She made sure her hair was combed, makeup on, and she was out of sweats when and if her husband came home. But he still showed no interest and his time at home became less and less.
On a snowy, Monday morning as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she found an envelope with her name on it, perched on the counter against the coffee machine. Her heart sank instantly as if it already knew what the letter would say. Her husband was gone and he wasn't coming back. He had met someone and had fallen out of love with her. Her heart could hardly believe what her eyes were reading. Her life had completely changed in a six line letter.
Now, working again as a nurses aide, just to pay rent on a two bedroom apartment and food the table, she wonders if she can continue to do it. Instead of sleep, she musters the strength to clean up the toys and wash the dishes, before she has to sit at the table to figure out what bill she can pay. Electric, water, cable, rent, food, or new shoes for the girls. As she separates the bills into piles and stares at the near empty bank account, she feels something hit her on top of the head and then again. She looks up expecting the ceiling to burst open but there is no sign of anything. "I'm really losing it," she thinks to herself and looks back to her bills. Splatter after splatter of blood cover the bills and her checkbook. Certain, she must be bleeding from somewhere, she grabs the closest thing she can, the toaster. As she scans her face and pushes her hair back from her forehead, she is startled at the whisper that comes from beside her, "Julie, this blood is for you."
Whose stories are these? They can or could be the story of any one of us. Somewhere right now, someone is lost in depression. Somewhere right now, an addict doesn't see any other way. Somewhere right now, a single Mom or Dad is struggling to just get by. Somewhere right now, someone received a cancer diagnosis. Somewhere right now, someone is saying a final goodbye to someone they love. Somewhere right now, someone is holding on to anger, unable to forgive. Somewhere right now, a young child is being lure into a gang or being assaulted by someone they trust. Somewhere right now, someone feels like they have nothing left to live for.
But there is that Whisper...if we just listen. This blood is for you.
The blood that Jesus Christ shed on the cross was not for the perfect person. IMPOSSIBLE! There are no perfect people. The blood that Jesus Christ shed on the cross was for the addict, the worn out parent, the homeless, the person beaten down by depression, the prostitute, the banker, the check out clerk, the pastor and the painter. Luke 19:10 tells us, "The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost." Let's face it, we are all lost, in one way or another. His blood is in discriminate. It was shed for any who believe in His death and resurrection for the forgiveness of our sins.
In a few days, Christians around the world will recognize with somber humility Good Friday, the day of His Crucifixion. As those spikes are driven into His hands and feet, with each drop of blood that hits the ground, I believe He is saying, "Cathy, this blood is for you," and "____________ this blood is for you." You fill it in, He already did the hard part.
Until next time, may the Whisper be ever present in your heart.
Have a Blessed Easter!
He Is Risen!
Cat
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