Intercessory Prayer

by Barb Darbey

"And he saw that there was no man, and wondered that there was no intercessor." (Isaiah 59:16)

What happens when we don't like someone's actions or words? Usually we speak poorly of them, argue with them, dislike them. We may even ask God to act in vengence to right the wrong that has been done to us. From a human stand point, that would only be fair.

But in steps grace, the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God. The love that knows no bounds, is longsuffering, and wills that all be saved. Slanderers, murderers, and thieves. Adulterers, liars, and everyone else who does not fit the ideal of perfection.

So how do you get the sinner to Jesus? Through prayer! And I don't mean just one half-hearted prayer. Pray for them as often as they cross your mind. If you're angry with them, this probably means often. Pray that thier spiritual eyes be opened, that thier hearts be softened, that thier souls be saved. Pray the blood. Pray that the Holy Spirit pours himself out like a flood upon them. When every where they look they just see Jesus.

Smile.

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grace [greys]
-noun, verb, graced, grac‧ing.
8. Theology.
a. the freely given, unmerited favor and love of God.
b. the influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them.
c. a virtue or excellence of divine origin: the Christian graces.
d. Also called state of grace. the condition of being in God's favor or one of the elect.
See the full definition of grace on dictionary.com

a synonym for grace is mercy:
mer · cy [mur-see]
–noun, plural -cies for 4, 5.
1. compassionate or kindly forbearance shown toward an offender, an enemy, or other person in one's power; compassion, pity, or benevolence: Have mercy on the poor sinner.
2. the disposition to be compassionate or forbearing: an adversary wholly without mercy.
3. the discretionary power of a judge to pardon someone or to mitigate punishment, esp. to send to prison rather than invoke the death penalty.
4. an act of kindness, compassion, or favor: She has performed countless small mercies for her friends and neighbors.
5. something that gives evidence of divine favor; blessing: It was just a mercy we had our seat belts on when it happened.
See the full definition of mercy on dictionary.com

that all be saved
2 Peter 3:9, KJV "The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance."
Click Here to visit BibleGateway.com and read this verse in other translations!

"perfection"
Romans 3:23 KJV "For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;"
Click Here to visit BibleGateway.com and read this verse in other translations!

God's Amazing Love

God's Amazing Love: Scripture to Back Up the Promise
by Barb Darbey

Ever wonder how to be sure God loves you? Take a look at these scriptures!

"In his goodness he chose to make us his own children by giving us his true word. And we, out of all creation, became his choice possession." James 1:18 NLT

1.) "In his goodness he chose to make us his own children by giving us his true word...."
He chose to make us his own children. Consider this an adoption by parents who are capable of conceiving thier own children, who have thier own children, yet choose to adopt more children out of the love in thier hearts. And also consider these parents to be able to bless thier children "exceedingly and abundantly".

2.) "And we, out of all creation, became his choice possession."
Choice. Favorite. Most prized possession. The King James Version translates this verse: "...that we should be a kind of first fruits of his creatures." Your first fruits are your very best. In olive oil, the first pressing, the extra virgin olive oil, is the top-of-the-line, highest quality, very best. God created us to be His top-of-the-line, highest quality, very best. We are indeed His prized possession!

"Look at the lillies and how they grow......Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for flowers that are here today and gone tomorrow, won't he more surely care for you?" (Luke 12:27,28)

This was spoken by Jesus himself. The Son of God. The perfect reflection of God (John 14:9). Who could know God's heart better than Jesus? In earthly terms, we would say "the mirror doesn't lie". Knowing full well God cannot lie (Hebrews 6:18; Titus 1:2; Psalm 89:35), neither, then, can Jesus.

Roget's New Millennium™ Thesaurus, First Edition has two distinct entries for the word "care", as used in this verse. Both are verbs; the first, defined as "tend to" (synonyms: attend, baby-sit, consider, foster, look after, mind, minister, mother, nurse, nurture, protect, provide for, sit, take pains, tend, treasure, wait on, watch, watch over), and the second, defined as "regard highly" (synonyms: cherish, desire, enjoy, find congenial, go for, hold dear, like, love, prize, take to, want). Both of these definitions declare how strongly and to what extent God truely cares for each and every one of us!

The Sanctifying Power of Christ

by Francis Frangipane

"For the unbelieving husband is sanctified through his wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified through her believing husband; for otherwise your children are unclean, but now they are holy" (1 Corinthians 7:14).

In the above verse, we discover an important life principle: the process of sanctification for an unsaved husband or wife actually begins when their partner is born again of the Spirit. The word sanctify means "to consecrate or set apart to God." In this context, however, sanctification does not automatically imply salvation; rather it means that a process leading toward possible salvation has begun in earnest.

From God's view, the influence of Christ's power working in the life of the redeemed has a drawing effect upon the unsaved marital partner. The unbelieving spouse experiences the blessings, benefits and influence of a life in the process of transformation; they are eyewitnesses to Christ's love as He reveals Himself to, and then through, a redeemed spouse. In all these ways, the "unbelieving" soul "is sanctified through" the "believing" spouse, so that even their "children . . . are holy" (1 Corinthians 7:14).

What is true in principle for a marriage is also true on the wider scale of a neighborhood or community. An unbelieving city can be sanctified, or "set apart for God," by the presence of a believing, praying, active church. Even a very evil region, one that is due the penalty of divine wrath, can be set apart unto the Lord because holy people are walking its streets, praying for its sinners and working toward redemption. God sees the influence of the redeemed and, because we are willing to walk in mercy, He is willing to forestall wrath.

This preserving effect of the saved upon the unsaved is exactly what Abraham discovered when he interceded for Sodom. As he stood praying before God, Abraham learned that the influence of ten righteous souls could spare an entire city from divine wrath (see Genesis 18:23-33). This also is exactly the same thing Moses realized about the power of his intercession. The Lord would have destroyed Israel for its flagrant sin, yet He granted mercy instead. Moses "stood in the breach" (Psalm 106.23). The result? "The LORD changed His mind about the harm which He said He would do to His people" (Exodus 32:14).

The positioning of Moses in prayer, even while Israel had not yet repented nor sought God, opened a mercy door in heaven. As long as Moses stood in intercession before God, mercy flowed toward Israel. Amazingly, "the Lord changed His mind." Oh, the power Christlike people have upon the heart of God! Let us never diminish the great privilege God gives us through prayer!

This intercessory positioning before God is what Jesus seeks for us today. As His representatives before God and man, He says a most profound truth concerning our role: "You are the salt of the earth" (Matthew 5:13). Salt, from ancient times, has been used as a preservative. The ancients would take meat and rub it with salt. The salt stopped the process of decay and preserved it. The process was called "curing."

Your praying, fasting, caring commitment to your neighborhood or city sanctifies that community unto God. The influence of a godly church has a curing effect upon that which otherwise will soon decay.

As we stand praying for our cultures, we are mindful of the many predators stalking our world: there are terror threats, bird flu, earthquakes and hurricanes, the bold advances of sin, the effects of global warming and the threat of all out war, plus many other enemies. While we do not deserve divine help, we need God's protection. You ask, "My life is but a single soul. What can I do?" Your life is a seed in which God sees a future harvest. The moment you open your mouth in prayer, a process of redemption is beginning for your region. And as long as you don't give up on your community, God won't give up either.

Prayer:

Lord, I come before You again today, carrying in my heart my people. Oh Master, I pray for mercy. You said "Mercy triumphs over judgment" (James 2:13). I plead for mercy, for revival, for forgiveness to fall upon my nation. You said the blood of Your Son would "sprinkle many nations" (Isaiah 52:15). I offer the blood of Jesus for my country. Forgive us and change us for Jesus' sake. Amen.

In Search of Home

by Deborah Akel

What is home? According to the dictionary, home can be a physical place, such as a house or a town. It can be a source; a refuge; or an environment which provides happiness and security. But the most common definition of home is simply, "The place where one lives."

I reside in a simple furnished efficiency in an old brick building in the heart of a big city. It's where I sleep, shower, answer the telephone and collect my mail. But it is not my home.

For me, home has never been a physical structure or a geographical location. It has always taken a human form. Home has always been my father and mother.

Most of my adult life, I lived far from home. The small city where I grew up and where my parents resided had little to offer, so I moved away to large urban centers, seeking job opportunities, culture, and the big-city lifestyle.

But at every opportunity, I went back to visit Mom and Dad. On holidays, vacations, three-day weekends, it was always understood that I was "going home." I took planes, trains, buses, and automobiles hundreds of miles just to feel their embrace and to experience the joy of family.

Between visits, I ran up hefty long-distance phone bills staying in touch. Home was where I called to talk about my day, to give and get advice, to feel connected. It was where those I loved, and those who loved me, resided. No matter what I did or where I went, home was the one thing that remained constant.

Until three years ago, when my parents left to be with God.

As I tried to pick up the pieces, I felt something vast was missing from my life. Something intrinsic. Something I could not describe. I grew to realize what that enormous void was. I'd lost not only my parents, I had lost my home.

I refer not to the house my parents lived in, which I'd never been terribly fond of. Nor to my hometown, a place I'd always thought of as dull. Home was neither of those things. It was that special bond between my parents and me - a bond that could not be replaced.

In the years that followed, I attempted to recreate a sense of home. But it eluded me. Holidays and time off became something to dread. Work seemed less meaningful. Friends grew distant and detached. I had lost my grounding, my reference point, my sense of belonging.

How does one recapture home? Some say we must create it amid our surroundings. Others argue we must seek it within ourselves. I've found both exercises to be extremely difficult.

I find the most truth in the old saying, "Home is where the heart is." Mine can be found among the memories of my parents; their teachings, their concern for my welfare, their pride in my accomplishments, their wisdom, their love. I may continue to inhabit my urban efficiency, but my heart - and home - are elsewhere.

Three years ago I lost my earthly home, but I'm comforted by the hope that a heavenly one awaits where I will once again feel my parents' embrace. Hebrews 13:14 (NLT) promises, "For this world is not our home; we are looking forward to our city in heaven, which is yet to come."

Author Bio:
Deborah Akel is a writer living in Washington, DC. Originally from Canton, Ohio, she has worked in tv news, writing, and political communication in San Francisco, Sacramento, Cleveland, and New York. She wrote this article in loving memory of her father David. Her website is http://home.earthlink.net/~creativewritingsvcs/

Jesus in the Thrift Shop

by Deborah Akel

Sometime around 1991, my mother asked me to write this story.

I was working as a writer for the president of an international marketing firm in Canton, Ohio. Mom was proud of me. Especially the day my car wouldn’t start, and my boss sent his personal chauffeur to our house to pick me up and take me to work. She thought I’d made the big time.

It was decided that I should write a story for her. All she had was a title: Jesus in the Thrift Shop. “Isn’t that a neat title for a book?” she announced excitedly.

“But what’s it about?” I asked. I had no idea where to begin. “It’s about Jesus in the thrift shop,” she replied, as if that should explain everything.

Mom liked to shop in thrift stores. She was always proud when she came home with a bargain. Even back in the day when it was embarrassing to be seen in a thrift store. Now it’s called “vintage” shopping. Mom was ahead of her time. She thrifted when it wasn’t trendy.

Mom believed that whenever she found an item she was seeking in a thrift store, Jesus was somehow behind it. “I was looking for a grey A-line skirt, and there it was!” she would say with childlike amazement and delight. “I’d been praying that I’d find a skirt just like it.” After several such finds, all of them attributed to prayer, she suggested that I write a book about the presence of Christ at Value Village.

Always the cynic, I pooh-poohed the idea. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mom,” I chided. “God has more important things to worry about than your shopping list.” But no matter how many times I tried to burst her bubble, she never capitulated. She was convinced that Jesus had a hand in her thrifting triumphs.

Over the course of several years, Mom repeatedly asked me to write her book. But I never took her idea seriously. I thought it was foolish, and that there wasn’t enough material to make a good story. Besides, I was busy with my own life and didn’t have time to indulge her.

Mom went to heaven on October 30, 2002. It’s taken me nearly 15 years, but I think I finally understand the story she was trying to tell.

Jesus in the Thrift Shop. What a silly idea, I thought. Mom was forever trying to inject God and Jesus into every little happening in the course of a day. If she baked a loaf of bread and it came out perfect, it was God’s doing. If she found a dollar bill lying on the sidewalk, it was Jesus who had left it there for her. Nothing was too trivial to have been the result of divine intervention. And now she was trying to convince me that the Lord had hung that white blouse on the sale rack for her at the Next-to-New shop. I wasn’t buying it.

In my infinite wisdom of youth, I often viewed my mom as a sort of simpleton. Gullible, unsophisticated, fanatical. While I’m politically liberal and open-minded about philosophy and religion, Mom was as conservative as they come and rigid in her beliefs. We had many clashes over our disparate views. Once I subscribed by mail to a Zen journal, and discovered that she was secretly throwing it away before I had a chance to read it. Tampering with the U.S. mail is a felony, but Mom thought it was a greater crime to allow me to travel down what she thought was the wrong path.

In the three years since she’s been gone, I’ve had time to reflect on who my mother was and what she stood for. I’ve been able to remove myself from the equation and look at her not in relation to me, but as an individual. And I’m continuously amazed at what I’m learning about her.

Above all, she was a woman of unshakeable faith. Many of her beliefs were unpopular, and she was often criticized for being inflexible, unrealistic, or out of touch with society. She may have been all of those things, but I’ve come to respect her for standing up for her convictions.

Her strict interpretation of the Bible meant that her lifestyle left no room for pleasures that most of us take for granted. She never knew the feeling of giddiness from being drunk; the thrill of sex with a new partner; the excitement of casino gambling. But she also never suffered the anxiety of wondering what life is about. She knew exactly who she was and where she was going. And she wasn’t afraid to go there.

As it turns out, my mother was not a simpleton. She was smarter and braver and more together than anyone gave her credit for. She loved the Lord and saw his handiwork in everything - even in her successes at the thrift stores. That was not foolishness. That was faith.

The story that she so wanted me to tell was that God is everywhere, in everything, and we should acknowledge and be grateful for it. He’s in that perfect loaf of bread, or that dollar lying on the sidewalk, or the ray of sunlight that shines through your window. He’s in the biggest and the smallest of things. He’s with you and in you and around you, and if you believe in Him, you’ll find him. Jesus was in those thrift shops with my mom, just as she is with him now, walking down streets of gold in heaven.

Author Bio:
Deborah Akel, Author Deborah Akel is a writer living in Washington, DC. Originally from Canton, Ohio, she has worked in tv news, writing, and political communication in San Francisco, Sacramento, Cleveland, and New York. She wrote this article in loving memory of her mother and father. Her website is http://home.earthlink.net/~creativewritingsvcs/

This article © Deborah Akel - Used with permission.

The Gift That Keeps Giving

by Deborah Akel

Christmas gift-giving can be a trying experience. Shopping for just the right gift for everyone on your list requires much thought. What do they need? Is it the right size, color, and style? What about the quality? The long lines at the stores for returns the next day prove just how challenging it can be.

And after all that effort, how long will your purchases really last? In today’s world of disposables, planned obsolescence, and ever-changing trends, it’s rare to receive a gift that lasts more than a few seasons.

For these reasons, Christmas presents at our house were sparse. To my perennial disappointment, my parents weren’t much into buying gifts. They had no patience for the whole process. My father especially lost interest when everything started being manufactured in China. Dad was a proud veteran of World War II, and he didn’t like the notion of our goods being produced on foreign shores.

I recall one Christmas, after some gentle prodding, he agreed to buy me a robe, but on two conditions. First, I had to pick it out. If he was going to buy it, he didn’t want any guesswork. Second, it had to be American-made. Simple enough, I thought. So together we went to the local mall, trudging from store to store, in search of a robe made in the U.S.A. Dad pored through the racks, scrutinizing every label: Made in China. Korea. Cambodia. Vietnam. (That one really perplexed him.) Surprisingly, there wasn’t one to be found. In each store, he confronted the sales clerks and asked why they had no robes made in the United States. I was frustrated and embarrassed, but he persisted. It was really important to him, and he wanted to make his point.

That Christmas, I didn’t get a robe. But I got a different sort of gift -- a subtle, unexpected one that doesn’t wear out, become obsolete or fall out of fashion: the gift of understanding that it’s important to take a stand for your beliefs.

My father was always a man of strong principles. He’d go to great lengths to argue his case if he thought something was wrong or unfair. As a teenager, I often viewed him as stubborn, difficult, and even embarrassing at times. But now, with the wisdom of age and experience, I see him in a different light.

Through his commitment to his values, he taught me an important lesson that day at the mall. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it influenced me deeply. Now as an adult, I, too, am compelled to speak out when I feel something isn’t right. So much so that I chose a career around it. The values I speak out for may in some cases be different from his, but it’s the commitment to them that matters.

Sometimes the gifts we receive from others are not wrapped in paper and bows. They are not manufactured, bought or sold. They are the gifts of teaching by example, of inspiring and motivating, of passing on lessons of living. After the flurry of the holidays has come and gone, these are the gifts that endure.

I may have been shortchanged at Christmas when it came to getting presents. But my father gave me a gift much more precious and lasting than anything he could have bought at the store. Top quality, perfect fit, and no exchange or return needed. He gave me strength of character and conviction. A belated thank-you, Dad.

Author Bio:
Deborah Akel is a writer living in Washington, DC. Originally from Canton, Ohio, she has worked in tv news, writing, and political communication in San Francisco, Sacramento, Cleveland, and New York. She wrote this article in loving memory of her father David. Her website is http://home.earthlink.net/~creativewritingsvcs/