Friday, November 28

Friday Fiction: Second Thoughts

For more great fiction, head to Rick's Pod Tales and Ponderings



Today's Friday Fiction offering is an elongated version of my FaithWriters.com challenge entry for the "Truth or Dare" topic. This is what I WANTED it to be, before hacking 350 words from it to meet the word count limit. Enjoy!


SECOND THOUGHTS

I don’t know how to tell this, or even where to start really. I guess I should start with Tessa, seeing as how it this is mostly her fault.

She’s so much different. Most girls are all about their make up and their hair and dressing like a hottie, but Tessa – she is what she is and she’s happy with that. She’s the only girl I know who is happy looking like herself, that being the girl next door. And I mean girl. She could probly pass for 10 even though she’ll be 14 on her birthday come December. Besides her cute little nose that turns up at the end, she’s got gorgeous eyes – big and brown and shiny. Hair just as brown and shiny all the way down her back.

Anyway, back to the story. I wasn’t real happy about the plan but I didn’t want to be a wimp. It’s a guy thing, ya know? See, I never was one to back down from a dare, so I went along with it, and Tessa, she followed me like always. She must watch outta her window for me to walk past cuz she came out her front door right when I crossed her driveway.

She looked up at me all expectant like and asked me, “Where ya going? What’s going on tonight?”

I had tear myself away from those eyes of hers, and I told her, “Nothing you need know about. Whyn’t you stay home tonight?” I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and shuffled around a bit.

Just like her, she said, “Pah. I’m going.”

I rolled my eyes, shrugged, and started walking again. Tessa was glued to my side like my shadow. One thing about Tessa, she don’t babble on like most girls. She’s all right to talk to if she’s all I got. Mostly she likes to talk about Jesus and Bible stuff. I don’t mind – Jesus was a pretty cool dude and she knows a lot about him. I wasn’t sure I bought it all, but her eyes get even shinier when she’s talking bout him so I’d been wondering lately if it might all be true. She didn’t even pester me bout where we were headin that night, just told me how Jesus dying made her feel.

When we crossed Main and hung a left on Turner, and we saw Charlie and Rick hanging out in front of First Pres, she asked me, “We going to church?”

Her eyes lit up the night, and that’s when I had my first second thought about this plan and specially bout letting her tag along. I told her, “Sorta, but not really. Just come on if you’re coming.”

“They know you been going here?” She sounded shocked, and I reckon she had reason. That’s when I had my second second thought.

“Nah, I haven’t told no one. An you don’t need to neither,” I said.

Charlie held out his fist as we came up and I gave it a bump. He flicked his eyes at Tessa and asked me, “What’s SHE doin here?”

“Chill, Dude. She’s cool.” I told him, and asked, ‘You check it out?”

He grinned at Rick then at me. “Yah, Dude. Wide open.”

“Then let’s doooo it.” Rick started baying like a banshee and we had to hush him up and hustle around back before anyone saw us.

Sure nuff, the back door to the kitchen was unlocked and we all snuck in. Tessa I had to grab by the hand and tug on, but she came too. We started with the big blackboard in the fellowship hall, erasing the announcements. Charlie grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote in big letters, “Jesus…” He only got the first two letters of the next word down when Tessa grabbed my hand and drug me away.

“Come on, I want to do something.”

Well that got Charlie snickering and Rick hootin and a hollerin. “Go on you two – and have fuu-uun.” I turned my head to give them a look, and seeing those words so big…well I gotta say I wanted to throw up. My third second thought. I was happy to go on with Tessa.

She didn’t let go of my hand, or say a word, just drug me all the way to the sanctuary, then right up to the altar and dropped to her knees. She looked up at me with those big shiny eyes, cept now they were shiny with tears. “Pray with me?”

I figured, what the hay, I wasn’t too much into the dare anymore anyway. She still had hold of my hand, and I got on my knees beside her. I wasn’t sure what to do next so I just bowed my head and thought I’d wait till she was done, then we could go. I didn’t know she was planning on praying out loud.

I don’t remember much of what she said, but it was how she said it. I’ll tell ya, I never heard no one pray like that before. It was like she was really talking to someone. She said “Father” like God was really her daddy. She’d even stop ever once in a while like she was waiting for Him to answer. I started getting more comfortable, and that was weird to me.

Then she told Him she wanted to pray for Charlie and Rick and me, and I remember this part. She asked Him to open our hearts to His truth. And it hit me like a hammer. All those things we talked about, bout Jesus, and Him dying and why, and how He was really alive and He was really God. I felt like my heart was ripped open and real tears ran down my face. Before I knew it, I was praying. Me! And it wasn’t weird at all; matter of fact if felt real right.

That’s when the cops busted in and hauled us off. I’m thankful to the preacher for getting out of bed to come get us. My folks wouldn’t have believed my story, but he did. Course, Tessa was there to back me up. Us two tried to get Charlie and Rick to see the truth while we waited at the station for the preacher, but they just laughed. And for once I didn’t care, neither.

So, anyway, I guess that’s my testimony. That’s why I’m standing here in front of ya’ll in this big bathtub in a white nightgown today. Jesus is my Lord now.

Besides, Tessa dared me.

Wednesday, November 26

Set Free: If / Then

I know, it's been ages since I've posted a blog. I can't say I've been too busy, or I have I had nothing to write about, because neither of those are true. If I could figure myself out, I'd be a much wiser woman. If you figure me out, feel free to clue me in.

Anyway, I've fallen in love with an app on FaceBook - "Word of God". I just "unlocked" a few more "Words" and in looking at them just now, I was stabbed in the spirit by this one:

How many times have I read this verse? I couldn't tell you. But I can tell you I only just saw the truth of the words.

I know that context is extremely important when it comes to studying the Bible, but sometimes, pulling a verse out and reading it alone causes me to REALLY see it. Really read it. Really absorb it.

"IF you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.

THEN you will know the truth and the truth will set you free."


Ah, the classic "if/then" logic formula. The effect is dependent upon the cause. The result is dependent on an action.

I know God's love isn't conditional upon my actions. God IS love; he can no more NOT love me than I can NOT be a woman. It is who He is. I know His Grace isn't conditional upon my actions. That is His gift to all who believe and trust in Jesus Christ, His only Son. He willingly was tortured and executed in my place, to pay my debt.

However, my growth in Him IS conditional upon my actions. ONLY IF I hold to His teaching will I will become His disciple (learning, growing, knowing Him); ONLY THEN I will know the truth. And THEN I will be set free - free from guilt, free from worry, free to rest in Him.

Father, thank you for your Word, and for the places and people and circumstances you use to make the Truth of your Word evident to me. Thank you for being there for me every day, no matter if I am listening to You or ignoring you. I pray that I will become your devoted disciple, not swayed or blown to and fro by the winds of this world, but remain steadfast in walking on the path you set before me. Thank you for being my Light in this dark world.

Friday, November 14

Friday Fiction: Welcome Home

Today is Friday, and that means it's time for FRIDAY FICTION!




LauraLee is hosting Friday Fiction this week on her awesome blog LauraLee's Lifesong. Stop by to read more fiction, or to join the fun.




The story I'm sharing today is a fictionalized-but-mostly-true account of how my husband and found the church home we adore. I wrote "Welcome Home" for the FaithWriters.com "Worship" challenge. I hope you enjoy!




WELCOME HOME


Hannah fought the onslaught of merry parishioners leaving the early service and took the bulletin offered by the smiling volunteer. Despite the fact that the same tall, grey-haired man had been standing at the entrance to the worship center every Sunday for the past eight years, he had never said more than “good morning’ to her. This Sunday was no different, but Hannah was still delighted to be there.

She liked sitting up front; this early the rows were was sparsely populated. As people chose seats around her, Hannah smiled and greeted each one. They answered her graciously, then turned back to their friends and conversations. She watched the slide show deliver greetings and church news, and read the announcements of upcoming events and mission trips in the bulletin twice as she hummed along with the praise music playing on the loud speakers. Hannah looked around hopefully, but no one seemed to notice her. She was surrounded by laughter and friendly conversations. She worshiped alone in a crowd of hundreds.

Soon, the music minister stepped to the pulpit and welcomed everyone. Hannah loved to sing, and joyfully lifted her praises with rest of the congregation. I’m here for God. I don’t care if no one knows me, she told herself. Half of it was a lie; she desperately wanted to belong.

During the communion service, Hannah poured her heart out to her Abba Father, confessing her selfishness and His greatness, and committing herself to be His servant.

The preacher’s message, as always, lifted and fed her, and when the invitation to join the church was given at the end of the service, she longed to approach the altar. Why do I continue to sit here, glued to my chair, week after week? She waited for an answer, but none came.

As the congregants filed out, she stopped to shake the preacher’s hand as always. Sometimes his forehead wrinkled as he tried to place her, but most times, like today, he just spoke a hasty word of kindness and looked to the next person. “Bill! Good to see you this morning. How is Josh doing in boot camp?”

Hannah moved on, wishing he knew her name and her life, too.

The following Sunday, a crash of thunder woke Hannah. A blank screen stared at her from the clock radio, She found her cell phone on the nightstand and squinted at it. 10:30! She’d be so late! She rolled out of bed and dashed through the shower. An up-do and a dab of mascara would suffice.

The clock in her car read 10:58 as she passed the old brick church on the town square. Her church was still fifteen minutes away. On impulse, she pulled into the parking lot.

A “Visitor” spot was waiting for her in front, and she hastened to the worship center. A grinning usher opened the door.

“Welcome to Grace Church. I’m Jim.”

“Good morning, I’m Hannah. Sorry to cut it so short.”

“No worries, Hannah. We’re glad you’re here. Let’s find you a seat, ok?” Jim walked her to a pew toward the middle, and spoke to the man sitting at the end. A murmur was passed down the row, and a space was made for her. Her apologies were met with forgiveness as she scrambled over feet and settled in.

Before Hannah had a chance to fully absorb the soaring bead-board ceilings and the sun-lit stained glass, the familiar routine of church began. The welcome from the pulpit was hearty and heartfelt. Visitors were asked to stay seated “so we can find you”, while members stood in honor of their guests.

Everyone in proximity of Hannah reached for her hand and asked her name. She received three invitations to Sunday School and two for Wednesday dinner. Jim the usher handed her a card to fill out “so we can stay in touch with you.”

When she stood to join them in singing praises to God, tears glistened in her eyes.

The pastor’s message and his invitation spoke directly to her, and when the final hymn began, she found herself stepping into the aisle. Her feet and her heart carried her to the altar where the radiant pastor met her with outstretched arms.

“I want to join this church,” was out of her mouth before she knew she was going to speak.

“We’re honored to have you join our family. Do you know Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” the pastor asked.

“Yes,” she croaked through her tears. “I’ve known Him and loved Him for a long time, but I found Him here today.”

“Welcome home, sister. Let’s pray.”


© 10/11/07 Catrina Bradley

Thursday, November 6

Friday Fiction: Unquenched


Friday Fiction is being hosted this week
by my friend and fellow FaithWriter, Julie Arduini
at her
blog The Surrendered Scribe. Come cCheck it out!


"Unquenched" is something of a mystery to me...it's a mystery that it was highly commended in my level, and was an Editors Choice, in the FaithWriters Writing Challenge. I wrote "Unquenched" July 30, 2008, for the topic "Concentration". I almost didn't enter it, but sent it off to my buddy to have a look. She convinced me I should enter, and much to my shock & awe, it was well received.
_______________________________


Unquenched

I sure could use a drink of water. So thirsty. Mustn’t forget to ask. Water. Remember. I want a drink of water. I’ll ask him for one when he comes in. A nice cold drink of water. A tall drink of water. That’s what they used to call me. Back then…when George was … was so HANDsome. He was taller than all of the other boys, AND he was taller than I was. I loved looking up into his warm brown eyes. I was considered tall for a girl. A tall drink of water they called me. Mmm. Water. Sure am thirsty. I’ll ask for a glass of water. He’ll be back soon. I need to remember water. WATter! WATter. Oh, dear. That’s making me seasick. Like that time George and I took a day cruise to nowhere. That’s how it was billed. A Day Cruise to Nowhere. You sailed off into international waters, you dropped anchor there out for a couple of hours, then you were brought back to the dock. For those couple of hours, you could gamble. George let me play Blackjack. He gave me $50; I lasted six hands. I DID get a free drink, though. Probably what made me seasick. I sure could use a drink right now. Water would be great. When he comes, I need to remember to ask him for some. Ok, remember water. Water. Concentrate, Ruby. Don’t forget. Water. Icy cold, like it was just pumped from the well. Like from the pump at our kitchen sink. That was before water came out of a tap at the turn of a knob. What an advancement for mankind was running water! And indoor plumbing? A Godsend. I sure don’t miss those middle of the night trips to the necessary. Especially in winter. My feet and hands would be frozen when I came inside. And then I had to wash up in cold water from the pump at the sink. That cold water sure felt good in the summer, though. Oh, but that was good drinking water. I could use a drink of that water right now. I’m a mite thirsty. When he comes, I need to ask him for a drink. I’ll need to ask for ice cubes though if I want it as cold as the water from the pump in the kitchen. Of course that was a lot of years ago, back when George and I first married. My but George was handsome. So tall, too! The other girls were so jealous. Oh, look, here’s my sweetheart now.

“Miss Ruby, how you doin? You comfortable? “

“George!”

“Miss Ruby, it’s Nathan, just comin round to check on you again.”

“George, there was something I wanted to ask you. Something about the pump at the kitchen sink. I can’t quite seem to recall just what it was.”

“Your water pitcher’s dry, Miss Ruby. Lemme fill it up for you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You always know what I need, and take care of it before I even realize I need it myself. You’re the best husband, George.”

“Nah, Miss Ruby, I’m just the nurse’s aid. Nathan, remember?” Nathan scooped ice into the water pitcher from the cooler on his cart, then ran water in from the tap in the small bathroom.

“George, do you remember pumping water by hand? I don’t know why, but I just thought of that old pump in our kitchen. I haven’t thought about that in years. Oh, thank you George! How did you know I was thirsty?”

___________________________

Friday, October 31

Friday Fiction: Where the Wind Blows

Yay!!! It's time for ...



This week our host is Lynda, at "On the Write Track". You are more than welcome to join us there for links to more fun fiction--whether you write fiction or just enjoy reading it. Invite your friends to join you!

Me? I've been wallowing in my pit the past week or two, so I decided to post this story that brought me closer to God as I (or I should say HE) wrote it. A writer always tries to get inside the head of her MC...and getting inside the head of this MC took a lot of letting go on my part.


WHERE THE WIND BLOWS
12/11/07

All of the Christians have gone home. The church sits empty, save for dust motes floating in multicolored shafts of moonlight, spiders weaving new webs to replace those cleared away by the custodian, and the silent Spirit Who hovers majestically, lingering long after the bodies of the Church have departed.

He ponders the season of His confinement to the Holy of Holies. And when He only spoke to the Father’s chosen. The people had craved Him, but their time had not yet come.

He laughs with delight at His freedom in this age of Grace. To be able to be present with all of His children. To be summoned by a prayer. To be heralded and wrought to a frenzy by the voices of His worshippers raised in praise of His Name. To fill His children with Himself, and then go with them into the world.

He had flown with abandon this morning, floating, swirling, from one believer to another, being lifted to the rafters on a joyful noise, then descending in an invisible cloud to envelop His children in His presence. He filled the surrendered mind and heart of Pastor Beck, who stood surrounded by a Heavenly host called forth by the army of prayer warriors he shepherded.

The pastor’s words were pure Word; the Son was preached today. And worshipped, and loved, and lifted up. The Name of Jesus Christ was exalted, and the Father was well pleased. The Spirit sprang into abundance, and the Church’s faith came full circle.

The Trinity was in motion.

The prayers of the righteous touched His Heart, and He bestowed blessings upon His children. Some were discouraged by seemingly unanswered prayers. The blessings He bestowed were not always what was wished for, or what His children deemed best, but instead what was needed for the Father’s plan to unfold.

Smiling, cheerful Mrs. Granger cried out from a heart buried beneath a façade of contentment for the restoration of her failed marriage.

The Spirit was bereaved and grieved with her, but instead of granting her plea, He calmed His child and spoke to the hearts of three of her Sunday School classmates, urging them to reach out in love, comfort, and support.

Young Natalie knelt at the altar to pray as she had every Sunday since her baptism. She wanted to make sure everyone saw how serious she was about her decision to follow Christ. But all the Spirit heard was a clanging gong.

He hovered about her, and almost breached the wall of self separating them. He simultaneously nudged and inspired five of her friends to think of her and lift her to the Father. She was being convicted, and one day soon would see, hear, and finally surrender to the Truth.

He inhabited the music and spoke through the words of “Just as I am” to the Baileys as they communed with their Savior through worship. They had spent the past nine months church hopping, unable or unwilling make a commitment. As Gabrielle sang “I come..” and turned to her husband, he echoed, “I come.” They joined hands and hastened to the pastor, who stood smiling at the altar.

The Spirit thrilled to hear the Name spoken, and their confession of faith in the Lordship of Jesus Christ sent Him soaring. When Gabrielle and Dan stood before their new family, His Spirit of love bloomed as the congregation welcomed their new brother and sister.

Now, hours later, here in the stillness of the shadowy church and along the tendrils of Love snaking from heart to heart through the Body, the Spirit continues His work.

Natalie’s phone rings, and she accepts an invitation to go with a few girls to the soup kitchen tomorrow night. The Women’s Sunday School teacher takes out her best stationary and pens a welcoming and encouraging note to the Baileys. The aroma of baking fills more than one kitchen and text messages fly as His daughters finalize plans for a single ladies’ tea, making sure to include the newly single Mrs. Granger on the invitation list. Intercessory prayers pour through Him to the Father in the name of the Son.

The Church is stronger today than yesterday, and will be stronger still tomorrow, as the Spirit prepares them for the return of the Son.

A "Book" Review

2 Timothy 16 All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness NIV


God gave me the most amazing verse this week. For an insecure woman who still feels like a worthless little girl most of the time, it gave me great comfort and courage.

If you know me from any of my other internet families, you might recall that I’m reading through “The Message” by Eugene Peterson. “The Message” is a paraphrase of the Bible as opposed to a translation. The fact that Mr. Peterson signed his name on the work attests to the fact that the reader shouldn’t assume that it is the literal Word of God. The Holy Bible, though it doesn’t list an author and is indeed compiled from the letters and writings of many, has but One author, and His name isn’t on the cover.

That being said, I highly recommend reading Mr. Peterson’s version of the Word. Now I have encountered passages that I recognize (in my opinion) as possibly being doctrinally biased. Or perhaps that is EXACTLY what the scripture means? When I come upon a “loose” interpretation, at first I’m amazed, thinking that God has revealed the truth of a formerly unclear passage, but then I remember that this is one man’s interpretation, and move on.

You see, my goal when I embarked on this read was to read, not study. I’ve started out to read all the way through the Bible before, but have never make it. I’d check the foootnotes end up 37 books over cross referencing, then on the internet researching. I promised myself this time not to go on goose chases through Scripture, but treat The Message like the great read The Bible is and just read it and enjoy. And that I have.

Even with keeping that promise, the Message has made me stop and think over many a familiar verse. Many times I’ve pulled out my NIV or other translation to compare. Other times, I may read only a paragraph and be so intimately touched by the message I’ve known all my life but never heard in those words before that I just close my eyes and my Bible, and meditate on Gods’ promises.

2 Timothy 3:16 Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God's way. The Message


“The Message” was the most worthwhile present I’ve ever given myself. If you’re puzzling over a gift for someone this Christmas season, keep Mr. Peterson’s paraphrase in mind. Or treat yourself!

Oh, and I mentioned a verse God gave me. Stay tuned….

Friday, October 17

Friday Fiction: The Way of the Sluggard

I chose this story for today's Fiction Friday because I've been thinking about it a lot this week. I still have a problem with the snooze alarm and this week I've been very bad.

Fiction Friday is hosted today by Dee Yoder at
http://deeyodersblogspot.blogspot.com/
Stop on by for more fiction, or to join the fun.



THE WAY OF THE SLUGGARD

Sonja peered at the time through sleep-bleared eyes. I’ll get up soon. One more snooze won’t hurt. She tapped the button on the alarm clock, cutting off the DJ in mid-sentence, and snuggled back under the covers. She was fast asleep within seconds.


“...6:52, and we’re looking at a rainy morning, folks.” Sonja jolted at the sudden, loud intrusion into her sleep. Great. Rain. Father, I’m grateful for the rain. I know we need it, but why during rush hour? Couldn’t you wait till everyone’s at work?

“Better get an early start; traffic will be a bear on the connector. Now, in honor of the weather, here’s the latest release from MercyMe - “Jesus Bring the Rain.”

I’ll just listen to this song, then get up.

“That was MercyMe with our theme song for this wet morning.” Sonja turned her head toward the clock. Man, I slept through one of my favorite songs! Hmm...if I don’t wash my hair, I can hit the snooze one more time. Rolling onto her tummy, she purred, and fell back asleep.

“...but our son, of course, wouldn’t be caught dead in that shirt. It came from SuperMart, and no one who is cool wears clothes from...” Sonja smacked the snooze button without even glancing at the clock. I can skip my Bible reading and devotion this morning and sleep just a bit longer. I’ll still almost be on time. Soon she was dozing.



“Father, I’m sorry that I didn’t make time for You this morning. Forgive me for my laziness.” Sonja prayed as she dodged slower cars, weaving in and out of lanes. “Please help me make it to work on time.” “You IDIOT! Move faster! Go, go!”

She eyed the HOV lane. Drivers with passengers were speeding by the bumper-to-bumper single drivers. “Cheater!” she shouted at a pick-up that obviously didn’t have two or more people in the cab. No matter that he couldn’t hear her, and probably didn’t care about her opinion anyway. Should I? Do I dare hop over into the left lane and take a chance? If there is a cop patrolling the HOV lane, that guy in the truck will get pulled over and I’ll be safe. She made a hasty decision, turned on her left signal, and jerked into the first gap and gunned the engine. Ah, this is more like it. I should be right on time, now.



“Do you know why I pulled you over this morning?” Rain dripped off the cop’s hat cover as he bent over to speak to Sonja.

“Yes, officer, I was in the HOV lane illegally.” She wiped a wayward raindrop out of her eye.

“So you know you have to have two or more people in your car to use this lane. Is there a reason you decided to use it anyway?”

Lies and excuses flashed through Sonja’s mind. I need to use the bathroom real bad...My friend is at the hospital and she’s dying...I was chasing a carjacker..., but she chose to tell the truth instead. “I was late for work.”

“I’m going to have to cite you. You should really get an earlier start when it’s raining, you know.”

Yah, I know.



Proverbs 15:19 The way of the sluggard is blocked with thorns,
but the path of the upright is a highway. (NIV)