Remembering His Works

"At just the right moment, I heard you. At just the right moment, I stepped in and helped you." ~God


Isn't it funny that God's just-right moments in our lives are usually after panic hits? Okay, not funny. Just ironic, and probably so we learn that panicking really isn't necessary. After all, God hasn't given us a spirit of fear, and panic is by definition intense, sudden fear because we just figured out things have spiraled completely out of our control. As if we ever had control to begin with. But that's just the point. We have to get past trying to feel in control.


One way that we dissolve fear and release faith in the present is by reviewing God's awesome deeds in the past. We can begin with the amazing miracles recorded in the Bible then read powerful stories recorded by people of faith throughout history. And then we can get closer to events in our generation and feel our faith revived.


But I think one of the most powerful ways to stir faith is to look at what God has done for us in our own lives. When we start recounting our moments of panic and need and how God stepped in and met us, then our grip renews upon our sword of faith and we once again take a warrior's stance with an unwavering inner conviction: I know the Almighty God fights for me.


After my divorce, I lived with my parents for three years. So did my four children. Thank God for big basements and overflowing grace. The arrangement worked very well and gave me a nest of incredible love and security. I began healing but as the kids grew, the need for our own place became pressing to the point of desperate urgency. I had to move, but I didn't have my own vehicle, I was still attending college, and had used up all my savings.


I applied to government housing and began looking for a minivan. Just attempting to get a reliable vehicle with my limited loan money was taxing on my emotional reserve, but I did my research and God supplied a small minivan--just the right size for a short mom with skinny kids. Great. I was set. I would move out as soon as a house opened up, but the weeks ticked past, each one increasing in tension and stress. Time had run out.


Tears pouring down my face, I called the housing office and said I was willing to take an apartment in an area of town known for drugs. But I couldn't stay put any longer and if I was going to be the mom I needed to be for my kids, I had to take that leap of faith into the dark and trust that Jesus would be the Bodyguard who surrounded the kids, just like He'd promised to always be.


The next day, I saw an advertisement for an apartment that was also subsidized in a different area of town. I applied and within a couple days, I was approved. I was very relieved. Even though the coin-op laundry room was up three flights of stairs, at least we'd be in a much better neighborhood. I signed the papers even though I couldn't see the apartment for two days.


Two hours later, the first housing office called me. They had a four-bedroom, two-bathroom unit open just two blocks from the three-bedroom, one-bath apartment I had just paid a deposit on. I swallowed. I should keep my word, shouldn't I? But the four-bedroom had its own laundry hookups. I asked if I could go look and have 24 hours to decide. The manager said yes, and I stepped into a beautiful, newly remodeled two-story unit with a huge kitchen and tons of space.


I stood, looking around, and as I walked through every room, the certainty that God wasn't playing a joke but truly blessing me bubbled up stronger and stronger. I told the manager I'd take the apartment then began praying for God to return my deposit. He did. The other manager said she totally understood how much having my own laundry hook up meant to me, seeing as I had four young kids and did laundry every day.


The kids and I moved into our new, wonderful apartment with its own front and back doors, small patio, and shared grassy yard where the kids could safely play with other neighbor children. Hallelujah! Within just three days, God turned panic to absolute blessing because I stepped out in faith that He would provide. He would bless and protect me and my children. It was a miracle. A heart-stopping, joy-bursting miracle.


Could this experience be placed under the label of 'coincidence'? I don't think so. I've learned we can't worship luck and worship God at the same time. I choose to give all the glory to my Creator who knows what my kids and I need to thrive and rejoice in life. Jesus gave us an apartment we shouldn't have received. We weren't far enough up on the waiting list for the nicer areas of town. But we got the key.


He provided the washer and dryer too, along with all the furniture we needed. Many of the items were completely free, a few were obtained at amazing deals. Jesus watches over us. He delights to fill our homes with good things, and when we're looking to Him as the Source, He loves to show us exactly what He can do: He pours out unreserved blessings of lavish grace.

Reactivating Faith

"Audacious faith starts with sanctified naivete. There's an unquestioning optimism that comes as standard equipment when you're young." ~Steven Furtick


Up until I was about 8 years old, I had radical faith. Audacious faith. God-says-it-so-I-believe-it kind of faith. How could I not? I grew up with a mom who spoke God's word over us, a dad who received healing of his hay allergies, and a grandma whose leg grew out when my parents prayed. Wow. I mean, I saw all this and soaked in the teachings by great faith teachers.


And I believed.


So I told the kids in First Grade that I wouldn't catch the chicken pox because God would protect me, even though everyone else was getting it. I really believed I wouldn't. I also said I wouldn't watch the shows the kids were watching and asked my mom to pick me up early from a birthday party because the chosen movie upset me so much. (I'm still highly sensitive to the spiritual ramifications in our modern entertainment, music and movies.)


I was standing up for my Christian beliefs and my faith in God. So I couldn't understand it when I caught chicken pox and no longer had friends at recess. What was going wrong? I retreated into a quiet, pensive attitude that rewarded me with straight A's and my school teachers' and church leaders' approval.


At fourteen, I knew I wanted to change the world for God so I decided to risk living by radical, audacious faith again. I asked God to heal my eyes, wrote out all the Scriptures about healing, and even felt the Father's gentle confirmation in Isaiah 60:5: "Then you will see and become radiant and your heart will swell with joy." I proclaimed that God had healed my eyes and threw my glasses in the garbage. My dad pulled them out. "We'll keep these as a testimony to what God did," he said kindly. But in my heart, I was angry. How could I stand strong when I felt no one supported me?


Two months passed by. Three months. God wasn't playing ball the way my adolescent faith said He should. I finally gave in and started wearing my glasses again so I could learn how to drive and stop getting headaches from my blurry vision. Humiliated in front of my family and church, I became bitter. What had failed? I had the faith. After all, Jesus promised if we only had faith the size of a mustard seed, we could move a mountain. But God failed to keep His word.


I closed off my faith valve. I didn't know at that time that I'd actually moved a huge stone over the wellspring in my soul. Jesus said that when we believe in Him, we receive the Holy Spirit as a fountain of living water. The flow didn't stop, but the Holy Spirit had to work underground, as it were, in my life because I vowed I'd never take such audacious, risk-filled stands again. If God wanted, I would say, He can heal. But, I'd silently add to myself, He rarely wants to. I didn't need to test Him in other areas. He'd already let me fall smack onto the rocks of humiliation so I sure wasn't going to trust Him to catch me again.


Safe and steady, that's how I would live my life. I wouldn't feel too much, because after all, I didn't know how to heal people of their pain. I wouldn't talk too much, except in the areas I felt certain, like rock-solid principles of morality, faithfulness, and tithing.


I gave up on audacious faith, but God never gave up on me.


Years later, I'm walking in audacious faith again, oh maybe not as obviously as some people, but I'm walking in it because God faithfully retaught me what I missed as a child and teenager: deep roots have to go down to support a mammoth tree. Character has to develop underneath the tree of faith or pride will be our fall.


I'm 36 years old now, and I've seen and heard what happens when mature character doesn't develop in people talented and gifted and even anointed by the Lord. More than anything, the Father wants us to pursue intimacy with Him and walk the path of humility so we know for absolute certain that the effects of faith are totally of Him and not of us. See, as a child I only absorbed one side of faith. I heard about the miracles and amazing anointings, but I didn't realize that God will never respond to formulas. He will break us of them, one painful step at a time until our full dependence is on Him and not our own faith because He loves us so incredibly much.


Audacious faith for external change must have radically tenacious faith in the our Daddy's great heart behind it. Our trust in Father's heart is the only root system that is strong enough and deep enough to endure through every circumstance so that the giant oak tree can grow and remain.


And ironically, even though I gave up proclaiming healing for my eyes years ago, the last two times I've visited my optometrist, my prescription for lenses have decreased in strength. Coincidence? Possibly. But I think I'll be audacious and say I have a God with a great sense of humor.

Seeing Jesus

As a little girl, I saw Jesus often. I saw Him in dreams, in visions, in Bible stories, in my imagination.


I believe I saw Him within my spirit so clearly because my mom prayed Daniel 1:17 over me as a little baby. She said that the first moment she held me, she looked straight into my newborn baby blue eyes and said, "Jesus loves you, Ayrian. You belong to Him." Then she began to proclaim over me, "God has given you knowledge and skill in all literature and wisdom. God has given you understanding in visions and dreams." Daniel 1:17. That's the anointing she wanted for me.


I perceived Jesus' presence beside me so strongly from birth that when my parents began to ask me at five years of age, "Ayrian, do you want to ask Jesus into your heart?", I replied with a child's black-and-white understanding, "Why? He's already with me all the time!" It took Jesus Himself speaking to me for me to understand their concern. As I lay awake during naptime one day, Jesus whispered gently, "Ayrian, if you don't ask Me to come live in your heart, I can't stay." Instantly, I cried out, "Then come in, Jesus!" Never have I wanted to lose my intimacy with my Savior, my Friend.


As I grew older, I tried stepping out in audacious faith but I didn't understand all of God's ways. I knew He could heal, so why didn't He heal me when I asked, believed, stood on Scripture? Hurt and bitter over the way other kids would laugh when my bold confessions didn't come true, I began pouring my attention into other, safer Biblical principles, like honesty, morality, integrity, tithing, etc--all important, vital components of a life that glorifies God, but in the process, I cut off the supply line to bold, radical, do-the-impossible-God kind of faith. It was a move in self-protection. I just couldn't stand being humiliated by God in front of everyone again.


That's okay. God hadn't forgotten all the prayers my mom had prayed over me.


When I was 23, living in emotional isolation in Germany, an ocean away from my nurturing parents, I miscarried. I went into shock. I'd never been willing to deal with death or pain before. In fact, up until that point, I'd done everything I could to avoid connecting with situations that threatened to touch my emotional core. But Jesus knew what was wrong. He knew I'd shut up large sections of my heart. And there in my living room as I wept on my face before the Throne of God, Jesus showed up.


It was the first time in over a decade that I actually felt and received an emotional encounter with God. He showed me a vision and for the first time in 15 years, I believed. Not just Scripture, but God's personal words to me. God knew I didn't have the stamina or character to hold on for long. He fulfilled His word to me in a short 4 months.


Then a new battle arrived on the scene. My 2-year-old son began having meltdowns so badly that I couldn't even go grocery shopping with him and his newborn sister. He was out of control, and my formula-parenting (Biblical to be sure) wasn't working. I knew how good discipline was supposed to work--but it wasn't working!


I began reading spiritual warfare books and began taking authority over the oppression of the enemy. My son didn't get better. Instead, the battle suddenly got worse. Due to military shifts, I spent nights at home alone in our little German house surrounded by neighbors who didn't speak English. That night when I put the kids down to bed and slipped into my room to sleep, a werewolf spirit crept up the stairs right into my bedroom.


I was terrified. I couldn't even look at pictures of wolves in books, and I'd always whispered to myself, "Werewolves aren't real. They aren't real." But now I knew It was. I rebuked it, began like crazy quoting all the verses I knew. "God has not given me a spirit of fear. Greater is He who is in me than he who is in the world. You will keep me in perfect peace..." The thing's presence diminished but I shook with fear and shock. I couldn't stop shaking as I flipped on every light in our two-story house and began playing worship music to try somehow to bring back the peace.


Day came and I went about my regular duties, playing with my kids, and saying nothing of this to the man I'd married. That night, he went to work and instantly, the house flooded with the intensity of fear. It was real. It was palpable. I got the kids to sleep and then began crying out for God to deliver me. I slept with the lights on and music playing.


The third night was the same. On the fourth night, I knew my head knowledge of God's covering and my authority over the enemy wasn't enough. Even with the kids' dad downstairs, my heart was petrified. I wasn't strong enough. I let go of trying to pretend I could protect my kids. They weren't being harassed. God was keeping them safe, enabling them to sleep completely through each night. I was the one living in torment. I stumbled downstairs and curled up on the couch, without saying anything of my horrible internal battle. How could I? No one else could see the werewolf spirit seeking to devour me. And it would...unless God did something I couldn't do.


That's when Jesus stepped in. I saw Him as clearly as I could see the werewolf's demonic stance and glittering, hate-filled eyes. The thing just stood there, glaring at me, fangs salivating. And suddenly Jesus stepped between me and Evil.


I didn't see His face as I had so many times as a child. Instead, I saw His back. Robed in white, strong, tall, and full of authority, His presence radiated supernatural, God-power. Every ounce of fear fled. Peace engulfed me. And that demonic werewolf just turned tail and ran. Then Jesus turned to me and said, oh so gently, oh so lovingly, "I stand in the gap for you."


I stand in the gap. It's what I had wanted to do for my children to protect them. It's what a good Father does for His children. He steps in. He covers them. He protects them. And more than that, He woos them back into a dynamic relationship with Him.


My Friend had returned, though He'd never left. I was the one who had walked away from believing--truly believing--in a God who moves and acts personally on behalf of His beloved. Amazed, I went upstairs and slept soundly that night and each night after. Although my son's meltdowns continued, God began showing me that the health of our children is not due to formula parenting but to listening to the voice of God and ministering to them--spirit, soul, and body. But that's another story.


That night where Terror seemed to have won, Jesus crossed into my reality. I was in bondage to fear, and He set me free. I was in bondage to legalistic thinking, and He began a long process of breaking off formulaic, self-preserving beliefs. I had turned from child-like trust to intellectual reasoning, and Jesus broke the chains put upon supernatural encounters by Christians who brush off visions and dreams, saying: "It's just your imagination."


No. The spiritual realm is real. Demons are real. Angels are real. Visions are real. Dreams can be real too. And Jesus is Greater. He has never stopped speaking and acting and standing in the gap for our salvation. He never will.

Audacious, Bold Faith

I believe my children are protected by the Lion of the Tribe of Judah.
I believe I have authority in Christ to cast down strongholds and sever the heads of demonic giants.
I believe the blood of Jesus covers my every sin and washes away every stain.
I believe the power of the Spirit covers my household in sovereign grace and fills every empty place.
I believe the ocean of Christ's love is so vast, it overcomes every fear, and so deep, I'll never reach the end of it.
I believe Jesus dances with me on the waves of grief, despair, and bullying accusations and I can find absolute joy in His arms.
I believe that God is the King of Mercy, who liberally grants second chances when we cry out for deliverance.


I believe the righteousness of the saints is based fully on the price paid upon Calvary's cross where Jesus spilled His life to make us fully His.
Yes, I believe my Beloved is coming and I'm His bride and He's gonna sweep us all up in the air when He plants holy feet on skies for all to see.
I believe my Redeemer is mighty, and my Husband is restoring everything, making all things new and completely right.
I believe you're my brother, my sister, my father, and my mother when you too throw yourself at Mercy's feet and with all your heart believe Jesus is Lord.


Yeah, and I believe all confusion, misunderstanding, and broken hearts are gonna be cleared away like mist on a sea when Love unrolls the heavens and unveils all of us with beautiful transparency.
Yeah, and I believe the day is coming when we will all see clearly, face to face, the One who made us and the glory He's hidden within us earthen vessels.
So, today I'm gonna pray "Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will Be Done" and today I'm risking everything to recklessly run with full abandon, all my faith in the Eternal One whose never see a beginning or an end.


Yes, today I'm bowing my knee to the Ruler of All and I'm standing in authority over the Darkness that seeks to steal, kill, and destroy my future and the hope of my children.
I'm surrendering my will, my passions, my desires, and my perspective to the One who sees it all.
I'm kneeling in submission to the High Priest who stands over His church and gives gifts and authority according to His choosing and call.
I'm walking in humility with chosen people just like me, broken and filled-up holy vessels, displaying the splendor of Majesty.


Today, my trust is placed on the Founder and Completer of our faith, that radical, reckless, free-for-all dependence on the only One who never fails.
Glory, hallelujah! Today, I fling my arms wide and head back and sing hallelujah praise.
Fear, grief, rejection--you can't shut up my voice. Jesus raised my heart from the grave.
He broke the chains of man's so-called wisdom that's not wisdom at all.
My kids are surrendering too by the power of His mighty name, and rebellion--you have no hold on us anymore!


Yeah, my bold, audacious faith cries out from the top of the snow-capped mountaintop 'cause springtime is coming.
The voice of the turtledove sings while buttercup flowers bloom inside my soul because You're Aslan, that wild, untamed Lion my soul loves.
Oh, Beloved, come take residence inside me! Don't let us ever be apart again.
Let us live in the Shadow of Your Wings where my children freedom to play in laughter and safety.
Unity, perfect Unity, come dwell in us and make Your wondrous Presence our abiding home!!!

Rocking the Boat

I grew up in church.

I knew Bible verses and stories by heart before I ever began reading Paul's epistles in my blue, soft-leather New King James Bible. I attended Christian school and studied the Accelerated Christian Education curriculum from grades 5-12. I loved memorizing the Paces' Scripture verses and rereading Proverbs every month.


My heart hungered to know God's will for my life, and I began having daily quiet time when a visiting speaker said that if we asked God, He would speak to us. I wanted above all to be a vessel of honor, ready and useful for the Master, and I knew the vital importance of staying attached to the Vine in order to bear fruit--the fruit of the Spirit and a harvest of souls.


I was determined to please God in every way, and I adhered to the requirements of Godly character: morality, purity, integrity, honesty, responsibility, humility, submission. All my life, I've known that God brings correction and instruction through church leaders, authority figures, and parents. As a teenager, I had to work on correcting my attitude a lot but never anything more than that, so early on I learned that Godly character and a quiet personality earn the reputation of being a "good girl"--an honor I still crave.


Now I'm still convinced that Godly character and holiness are Biblical essentials, but I'm not quite so convinced that being God's girl means never shocking the church's sense of propriety. In fact, I'm quite sure that Jesus did that all the time and the Holy Spirit continually seeks to jar us out of man-made traditions and comfortable expectations. And that means sacrificing our reputations at times.


Bummers. I understand the world won't always look well on me, but I really want other Christians and especially church leaders to speak well of me. I never want them to reprimand me or feel I've stepped over the line. So I'm extra-extra cautious. When I hear something out of the ordinary in my spirit, I'm instantly asking--like I've been trained to do--God, is that really You? 'Cause I don't want to rock the boat if You're not out on the water. Or maybe, I'm gonna have to jump out of the boat and run on top the waves if no one else agrees with what You've shown me.


Is that okay? I mean, oh my, what I've just listened to the voice of the serpent, and been carried away by my own desires like Eve? It's a real concern, isn't it? After all, Scripture warns, "When you stand, take heed lest you fall" (I Corinthians 10:12). Thinking we've heard from God when no one else validates the point is a big warning, for sure. And thinking we can hear better from God--now that's just stepping into a big ol' pile of pride.


So, sacrificing our reputation can be a risky thing. But sacrificing God's voice for our reputation--now that to me is by far worse. Scripture is always foundation, and God's character, His heart, are in line with His Word. Yet I've too often I've been afraid about what that still, gentle voice inside is saying. But why should I? Jesus promises that His sheep hear His voice and He leads them. He vows that the Spirit we receive at salvation is His very own Spirit, the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out "Abba, Daddy!" and by whom we know that we are sons and daughters of God, not merely servants who don't know what their master is doing. And isn't the Creator of the Universe the One who loves us most and knows what's best?


Jesus speaks to us personally and deals with us on an individual, case-by-case basis. Do you believe that? I do. He peels back the heart and looks at it, layer by layer. He sees not only the past and present but also the future. He knows what we need even better than we do. And He doesn't remain silent. When we cry out to Him, Jesus steps in--personally, intimately. Isaiah says, "He didn't send someone else to help them. He did it himself, in person" (63:8, MSG). Hallelujah! We have a Heavenly Father who promises to never give us a snake when we ask for bread or a stone when we beg Him for an egg.


And I've learned that as we pursue an intimate love relationship with the One who purchased our souls with His own blood, there will be times when He asks us to step out of the boat where all the other disciples are and trust Him explicitly. This trust includes surrendering our every desire to His will and surrendering our attempts at control to His strong hands because His ways are far different from our own. And when we do, beloved, we will discover His joy and laughter exploding within our souls.


"Faith is not an effort, a striving, a ceaseless seeking, as so many earnest souls suppose, but rather a letting go, an abandonment, an abiding rest in God that nothing, not even the soul’s shortcomings, can disturb." –Evan

Deep as a Spear is Long

As soon as I post the words "I want to be a missionary", a litany of old lies scream against me. "Who are you?" They yell accusations against my mind, my personality, my character, and my heart. These lies resurface in different forms and different ways, but their source can always be identified by the condemnation and shame they bring.


Who am I? Not someone qualified. Not someone full of charisma. Someone quiet, enthusiastic if encouraged, but subdued if misunderstood. A writer who pens passionately what I seldom voice in words, although given the opportunity, I pour out my heart. A mother with four young children who are at times needy, boisterous, funny, disrespectful, and poignantly hungry for all the love they can hold.


Who am I? Not someone anointed with healing the sick, raising the dead, or prophesying things to come, although I do hear the Lord and see the love pouring from His eyes. No, I'm not full of courage and faith all the time, and I can't recite all the wonderful evidence that proves how God framed the world and called us into existence.


But who I am doesn't matter in light of Whose I am. I am Christ's. And because I am Christ's, I am a daughter of God. I belong to the Most High King who stands alone over every principality and power. I live beneath the shadow of His hand, and His Word is etched into my heart. When I was a teenager, reading the Chronicles of Narnia, I asked Him to do what C.S. Lewis wrote: "Daddy, inscribe Your word into my heart deep as a spear is long so that nothing can ever erode it, nothing can ever chisel over it."


God's done it. When those lies of the enemy attack, His word comes back to me. "For you see your calling, brethren, that not many wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called. But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty, and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are." (I Corinthians 1:26-28)


When the attacks of the enemy come, I throw my whole weight onto my Daddy's promises. "I'm not who I want to be. I screw up and make such a mess of so many things! I need You just to keep me breathing. But I'm chasing after You, and You promised to finish everything You begin in my life. You promise that Your calling is irrevocable. You promise You will be everything I need so You can fulfill Your plans for my life!"


And, Daddy, I believe You!!!

Calling

I want to be a missionary.


Ever since I first read stories about Eric Liddle, Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, and David Livingston, God ignited a fire in my heart to go to unreached lands and tell others about Jesus. When I was water baptized at 12, my pastor's wife asked me, "Do you have a desire to be in missions?" I said, "Yes!" She said, "I had a picture of you on the mission field."


This is 24 years later, and I've gone to a closed country and spent three years living among the people. I was a mom, a friend, a wife. I prayed and worshipped and homeschooled my kids. I talked about Jesus and the Bible and the deep value we each have as God's creations.


Now I'm divorced, but the dream didn't die. The calling on my life didn't change. So what does that mean for me, a single mom with four young children? Certainly it means starting with service right here in my own backyard. It means giving to others and sharing Jesus with my American neighbors. But in the deepest places of my heart, there's a yearning for it to mean even more.


I want to go to the nations. I want to do it again and again and again. Once wasn't enough. Twice just won't do it. Set my family up in a hut on the outskirts of an African village. Send us into the middle of towering concrete buildings in an Asian city. Let me hold the orphaned children. Let me comfort those who are dying. Let us speak life to the deaf and dumb, both physically and spiritually.


Do I have the giftings and anointings that some do? No, but what does that matter? The calling isn't for me to take to God and say triumphantly, "See me! I'm so qualified!" On the contrary, the calling to reach the lost humbles and terrifies me. It makes me look deep inside and cry out, "Abba Father! I don't have what it takes, but I know what I want. And I know what I have: I have YOU!"


Yes, and Jesus is more than enough. He is always Enough.


Jesus knows the fiery flame that bursts awake within my heart when I go to Him with my questions: "What about my future, Daddy? What do You have for me and for my children? What do You want me to do? Where do You want us to go? Who do You want us to meet? How will all this come to be?"


He doesn't often give direct answers, and I'm waiting to see open doors. But as I wait, I've learned to keep the dream alive. Father's heart is the safest place to be, and it takes faith to walk with God. My Daddy is pleased when I say like Mary, "I don't see how it's going to happen, but have Your way. I'm all in, Daddy. I'm listening to You and staying nestled in the dreams You have for me."


"Faith, mighty faith, the promise sees and looks to God alone, laughs at impossibilities, and cries, 'It shall be done!'" ~Charles Wesley

WORTH

by Ayrian Stone, April 2013


Who determines your worth?
Is it someone you know?
Some circumstance you can’t control?
Is it chance or race or religion?
Is worth how smart you are, how strong, or how beautiful?
Is it time, convenience, location, or power?
Is it skin color, eye color, position, or gender?
Is worth how attractive you are or how useful you’ll be?

When did you start becoming fully human?

Was it when you drew your first birth?

Or spoke your first word?

What happened when ovum and sperm knit together?

When all your cells began to multiply at an astonishing rate?

Did someone want you? Did anyone desire you at all?

Did that change your worth?

Is one person’s choice what gave you value?

Or is it something more?

What happens if your size is too small

Or when your heart’s no longer strong?

What happens when reason starts to fade

And your mind grows dim?

Will worth be discounted then?

Who decides when it’s time to say “The End”?

Will it be parent, sibling, child, governor, or friend?

Will your worth remain when you can’t pull your next breath?

What’s the exact moment when we can say, “This one’s not worth fighting for”?

Today, Oh, God, we need Your help.

We need Your strength to see the value You’ve given each and every one of us.

These bodies You’ve given us are so frail.

Young or old, tiny or grown,

They’re no match against knives, injections, and “not-quite-human” labels.

Yet, these souls You’ve designed to live within such frail shells.

Help us, Lord, to treasure even the most vulnerable among ourselves.

Change our perspective to match Yours.

 

Father's Eyes

The Well
By Ayrian Stone

There’s a well called Father’s Heart

And I see that well in you.

The well, it calls, “Come, draw and drink—

That’s all you need to do.”

 

No limit set on Father’s love,

No fear it may run dry.

No circumstance it can’t be found

When with my heart I cry.

 

I love this gift, the Father’s heart,

Displayed within your eyes.

The prayers you say flow from this place

And my heart is satisfied.

 

“Come, find rest,” invites His heart

And offers sustenance too.

This warmth and trust burst forth great joy

That floods my soul anew.

 

Perfect gift, this Father’s love

To those abused and worn.

No condemnation. It’s all free,

And my heart begins to soar.

 

“Abide in faith, abide in Me.”

I hear you say His words.

If at times you need to know—

His grace flows strong from you.