What is too hard for our God?

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Is anything too hard for the LORD?  Is His hand too short to save?  What is it that you are facing today?  What fear is gnawing at your soul; what sin nipping at your heels?  What can you not forgive yourself for – for which our Savior has already died and covered with His blood?

There is NOTHING too hard for our God!  Nothing too far beyond His reach!  Know that You are loved and that He knows every detail of your life, your struggles, your heart… HE knows it!  And He cares about all those little treasures (good and bad) that you keep tucked inside.  Trust Him to be more than able to handle YOU.  As well as all those things you have let yourself believe He cannot take care of!  He is so good!  He is so good!!  He is so good!!!

 

~Christiane L.

Hum on in…

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Hum on in to the hummingbird cafe

Hum on in to the hummingbird cafe

Hum on in, they’re playing our song

Nice to meet you, sing along

Hum on in to the hummingbird cafe

The Lazarus Awakening

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Written: Monday, September 27, 2004

Part 1

He was sick. His sisters called or their Dear Friend, because they knew he could do something about their brother. Hey, if he could give a man his sight and fix a rotten leg so that it could function as God intended it to, then surely he could keep Lazarus from making his bed inside of a tomb, right?

“Hurry, master,” they whispered. “The one you love is dying!’

Ring, ring, ring… why won’t he answer?

On the other side of town, about a three-day journey from where the dying man was taking his final breath, the Doctor spoke to his band of rebels. “They want me to go to Lazarus. So we should go and wake him up.”

“What are we now, a wake up service?” they mocked. “Why doesn’t the guy go to the nearest vendor and buy himself an alarm clock? We’ve got some important stuff going on here.”

But the Doctor was speaking in terms his friends had yet to understand. Their paradigm had not yet shifted to translate his code, and they were often left frustrated over his riddles.

Meanwhile, the sisters and their neighbors were preparing the body for burial, tenderly wrapping his arms and torso with strips of cloth. The professional mourners were already earning their monies’ worth and tearing their clothes in the city square.

“If only he’d come. Why didn’t he come? Doesn’t he love us?”

Martha’s eyes welled with tears, her heart welled with resentment.

Stay tuned for part deux…