Leaving on a Jet Plane … Soon and Very Soon

“It’s 10 am, Mom.  You know what that means … it’s officially just a week left! Dad said he would pick us up at 10 am next Friday, and then we are off  on our trip! Do you think I should start packing today?”



Three of my children are preparing to leave. In just 168 hours (according to Nathan’s latest update), they will walk out the door, suitcases in hand, to board a jet plane headed for Germany where they will spend the first half of the summer visiting their dad.

Eager. Enthusiastic. Wired with excitement. These words describe the mood of my three first-time world travelers.

Each day now is spent with an attitude of preparation and expectation for this highly anticipated trip. My kids are impatient for their father’s return, even though he will be taking them to a place they have never seen. None of them doubt their dad will do as he said, and come for them.  Moreover, they are eager for his return, filled with anticipation for the journey ahead, and trust implicitly everything will be just as their father has told them it will be.

And as sad as I am to see them go away for six long weeks, I can’t blame them. If I were in their shoes, I would also be excited to embark on the adventure of a lifetime! I just wish I had plane tickets to join them. I wish I could pack my bags and experience the excitement of going to a new country for the very first time.

Unfortunately, I’m not invited. All I can do is prepare myself to say goodbye, and pray they bring me back some German chocolate as a souvenir.


As a Christian, I too am preparing for a trip. I also have a Father who has promised to return for me, to take me to a place I’ve never seen.

In John chapter 14, Jesus said these words:

“Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me.  In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also.”  

~John 14:1-3

As I watch my children excitedly prepare for their earthly father’s anticipated arrival, I wonder if the way I live my life here on this earth reflects that one day (possibly soon) my Heavenly Father will come for me, and take me to a new place,  a home which I have never seen.

The difference is my children know the exact time their trip will begin. So they are able to count down the days, hours and even minutes. They have also seen pictures of Germany. The list of sites they hope to see grows longer each day, as they peruse the internet and scour travel guides from the library. The Ann Frank House, Neuschwanstein Castle, a hike in the Alps, a visit to Europa Park (a large amusement park in Germany) … so many interesting places to go and new things to experience! And even though they haven’t yet embarked on their travels, this trip feels as real as a trip to the grocery store.

Yet, the reality of heaven quite often feels to me like a dream or a made-up fantasy. Perhaps if I had a specific date or a few  photos to view, the journey would seem more of a certainty.  But I don’t have a date to circle on the calendar.  And other than the Bible, there are no travel books to tell me more about heaven’s glory. I can’t look at pictures or talk to someone who has visited there.

But I do know heaven is just as real as any place on earth, more wonderful and perfect than I can begin to imagine, and my Jesus will come to take me there Himself. I don’t need expensive tickets, just faith and a personal relationship with Jesus Christ are all I need to be invited to travel there.

I’m eager to go check out heaven … just as soon as Jesus comes to take me home!



What about you? Do you believe heaven is real? Are you ready to travel when the Savior returns? 

If not, I hope you will ask me how you can get your “free ticket” today.

No sandals, no flip-flops … no business!

The conversation that follows was one overheard yesterday while running afternoon errands:

Joel (age 14):  Sometimes you see stores with signs that say “No shirt, no shoes, no service.”  I’ve never really seen people walking around without their shirts on, but a lot of people don’t wear appropriate shoes. If I ever own a business, I am not serving people who don’t wear shoes, and that includes flip-flops. If you come to my business and want me to serve you, you’ve got to wear footwear that covers your complete foot, toes and all.” 

Nathan (age 12): What about sandals? A lot of people like to wear sandals.

Joel:  Sandals don’t count because the foot practically hangs out. Sandals and flip-flops are essentially the same thing as going barefoot. 

Nathan:  So I guess you aren’t going to run a Christian business. That’s sad, Joel.

Joel:  I didn’t say that. Of course, my business will be Christian. I’m just not going to serve people who don’t wear real shoes. 

Nathan:  Well, you said you weren’t serving people who wore sandals. Jesus wore sandals. So based on what you’ve said, if Jesus came to your business you would turn Him away. 

Joel:  Jesus was different. Besides, Nathan, I seriously doubt Jesus is going to come walking in my business … and if He were to do so, I’d definitely serve Him. But He’s the only exception to the rule.

Nathan:  That’s hypocritical! You’ll serve Jesus, but not those who imitate Him?  The Bible says we are to imitate Christ.  I think you need to rethink your business plan.

Joel: I am not hypocritical. I just don’t like sandals and flip-flops. I don’t think they are real shoes. Put some real shoes on your feet if you want to do business with me. Trust me, most people who wear sandals are not imitating Jesus!



One of my favorite parts of parenting is the crazy conversations my children have on a near daily basis. I love hearing their “half-baked” thoughts and ideas, their interpretations of the world around them, and getting a peek into how God is developing their personalities.  Yesterday was no different.

Well … mostly no different.  I have to admit that yesterday’s conversation left my feelings got a bit bruised because I’m a flip-flop lover. Actually, a more accurate statement would be, I’m a foot lover.  But not just anyone’s feet. My feet.  I’m all about pedicures and pretty painted toenails, and cute shoes to show off my lovely toes.



I don’t know about you, but I tend spend my life rather caught up in myself. My activities. My hobbies. My time. My interests. I don’t spend my time focused on intentionally living for Christ.  After all, in my self-focused world, I’m wearing sandals because I love them, not because I’m seeking to imitate Jesus!

Jesus wasn’t focused on His own feet.  Instead, Scripture depicts Him washing the feet of others.  His feet never rested, for He walked miles over desert roads in ministry to others. Those who recognized who He was, worshipped at His feet, breaking vessels of expensive perfumes over His perfect feet, which would be pierced for my transgressions against a Holy God.




Don’t get me wrong. I’m not writing this to begin a movement which would push sandals as the “go-to shoe” for Christians because Jesus wore them as He traveled the dusty Israeli roads 2000 years ago.

However, all because of one crazy conversation between my boys, this morning as I put on my favorite pair of comfy sandals, I was reminded to spend my day truly focused on being an imitator of Jesus.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma. ~Ephesians 5:1-2

Y is for …

photo courtesy "The Salvaged Sparrow" etsy shop
photo courtesy “The Salvaged Sparrow” etsy shop


I love being a Southern girl. The list of reasons why I love the south is quite lengthy:

Big porch swings. Flip-flops all year long. Talking to strangers next to me in line at the grocery store.  Long growing season for vegetable gardens. Sweet tea.

Goodness gracious, the sweet tea alone is reason enough to love the South!

Oh … and I love a southern drawl. Truthfully, I speak with more of a southern twang, but oh how I wish I had a Paula Deen southern belle drawl.


Probably the best known Southern word is Y’all. Only true Southerners know how to use this word correctly.  If you have been around on Facebook or Pinterest, you might have seen this piece of clipart.



It’s a relatively simple word to use, but, Lord have mercy, I find it rather comical whenever someone who is not blessed to be from the South tries to use this word. I suppose it doesn’t translate very well.

However, did you know that the word y’all actually works well in helping to translate and better understand the Bible? It’s the gospel truth! There is a relatively new Bible app which will translate the Bible by incorporating the word y’all.

At first, I wasn’t sure about it. While it might be cute and funny, what was the purpose and how would it making Bible reading more edifying to me as a Christian? But then I read further. According to the creator of the app, the singular and plural forms of the word you don’t translate differently in English.  This makes it hard to distinguish if a single person or a group of people is being addressed in the Scriptures. Using the southern word y’all helps to clarify.

Oh, my stars! How cool is that?

You can read more about this fun and useful Bible app here.

In case you don’t speak correct Southern, please don’t go throw a hissy fit. There are other versions for those out there.  Options include using you guys, yinz, and you lot to help clarify the Bible. There is even an Old English option out there which makes use of the word Ye and Yeselves.

But for heaven’s sake, whether you get the app or not, please don’t neglect to read God’s word! It’s the one book with the power to change your life forever.


Y is for Y’all … and for the fun Bible app I discovered,

which reminded me  God’s word has power like no other book on earth.

F is for …

letterFMy eight-year-old daughter Julia peered at me, confusion etched into her round face. Amidst the chaos of Christmas morning wrapping paper and laughter, she held the contents of her gift: a small white card on which was drawn a simple fish.

“What does it say?” I asked.

Julia studied it for a moment, and then she read the words printed on the card aloud.

“What will you name me?”

Slowly, a small grin spread across her face, until she had a look of  sheer delight.  She let out a small gasp. “Really, Momma? A fish? You mean, I’m finally getting a pet …”

To say Julia was excited about owning her very first pet would have been a complete understatement. For days she could talk of nothing else. The wait until the pet store reopened after the holidays seem to be unending. Julia’s excitement mounted as she counted down the hours until she could go and pick out her already beloved fish.

Finally, the much anticipated day arrived. Julia raced into the pet store and hurriedly found the area of the store in which the fish were located. She nearly swooned from the excitement when she saw the floor-to-ceiling tanks filled with fish in every color, shape, and size imaginable. There in the corner we saw a shelf filled with small glass bowls. In each bowl swam a single betta fish.

The manager brought Julia a stool to stand on so she could carefully inspect each fish. She solemnly peered into every bowl, sometimes talking softly to the fish contained inside while other times silently stroking the glass.

As I watched my daughter go about the serious task of choosing her pet, I began to fear that this could be a torturous process. There were so many fish from which to choose that the process seemed to be overwhelming even to me. No two were alike, and each one seemed more stunning than the one in the bowl next to it. Brilliant reds, shocking blues, soft purples, iridescent greens … there was even a shimmery gold one with bright orange and black flecks resembling a leopard print.

My 13 year old daughter Maddie spotted an unusual blue betta fish with tiny black stripes. It had spiky fins which somehow gave it the look of a bird’s feather. She tried in vain to get her younger sister to choose this spectacular specimen, but Julia was not impressed.

Ten year old Megan pointed out a fancy betta fish, vivid red in color with fluttery fins that whorled around it in the water. The manager, who noticed Meg’s interest, said, “That’s a Half Moon betta. Very pretty. Quite popular. A bit more costly. It will set you back $20.” As I steeled myself for the task of telling Julia we were not going to buy the $20 betta fish, I realized that my littlest girl wasn’t interested in this one either for she was already quite enchanted with another fish.

With a quick glance, I looked to see which fish had captivated my daughter, discovering with surprise the fish at which she gazed so lovingly was truly the most unremarkable in the entire collection of dazzling fish. It was a dull, pale pink, and its fins weren’t very long, wispy, or elegant. Yet my smitten daughter watched with rapt fascination.

When Julia caught my eyes, she exclaimed, “Oh, Momma … did you see how she follows my finger! I’ve found my fish!”

So that’s how it came to pass that we took home the plainest betta fish in the store. I must admit I felt twinges of disappointment in Julia’s final choice. I had expected something more exotic, something more flashy.

Julia did not seem to notice or share my disappointment. Instead, she beamed all the way home as if she knew she had found a rare treasure among all the glittering gems.

Once home, Julia named her beloved fish Sushi, and cared for her as if she were the most amazing fish on the planet. Sushi lived in a glass bowl on the bedside table next to Julia’s bed. She never missed a meal. Her glass bowl was kept sparkling clean.  It was obvious that Sushi’s presence brightened the small bedroom.

As the weeks went by, I began to see such beauty in what I originally thought was just an unremarkably plain fish. Sushi would swim over as I entered the room. She seemed aware of my presence. And when Julia summoned me to watch Sushi perform a special trick, I had no more doubts that this plain little betta fish was indeed a unique treasure.

Unfortunately, a few months after Sushi came into our home, Julia noticed a small bump on her side, near the fin. Obviously, there was nothing we could do but watch and hope our little friend was okay. Time passed. Sushi’s bump grew larger. It effected her ability to swim. I knew she was dying, but Julia continued to hold out hope.

Then late one night, Julia came to me in a panic. She had woken to the sound of splashing water, and had discovered Sushi laying on her side, flopping around in a jerky sort of manner. Hugging Julia, I said, “Baby, I am so sorry, but I think Sushi is about to die. There’s nothing more we can do.”

Through her tears, Julia said, “Well, I’m going to pray.” And she did. I stood in awe as I watched Julia pray for a miracle for her fish. And when she stood up, she seemed convinced her small fish would live, not just through the night but for a long time yet to come.

Sure enough, in the morning, Sushi was swimming around her bowl, peppier than we had seen her in months. As Julia fed her, I watched with rapt fascination as the little miracle fish practically inhaled her food. I felt grateful our special friend had survived the night.

Sushi lived on another two months, before quietly passing away while we slept. There were tears as we said our final goodbyes because Sushi was more to us than just a beautiful, flashy fish in a bowl. She was a good pet who brought a lot of happiness to our home.

After Sushi’s death, I recalled my initial emotional response to fish Julia had chosen. I didn’t think she had made a good choice because Sushi didn’t have a beautiful outside appearance. But after the fish came home, I began to see my first impression was wrong. Suddenly, as I remembered the plain little fish, I felt God whispering in my heart, reminding me how He loves to use the unexpected and unworthy to carry out His plans.

He used an elderly man to father an entire nation of peoples, as numerous as the stars and as countless as the grains of sand upon the shore.

He turned the uncertain stutterer into a man who would confront a pharaoh, bring forth plagues, and lead an entire nation out of slavery.

He used the very youngest and smallest soldier in an army of underdogs to overcome the impossible giant.

He found the coward hiding in the threshing barn and used him to lead a tiny ragtag army into battle to defeat their unbeatable enemy.

He took the young virgin maiden barely old enough to leave her parents and brought forth from her His perfect salvation.

And that salvation … well, it turned out to be a babe born in a barn instead of King triumphant in battle glory.

It was this same God who called out to a few weary fishermen, with their torn and empty nets, asking them to follow, using them to bring His gospel message of hope and peace to the far corners of the earth, so that He might turn them into bold fishers of men.

And He even uses the insignificant, like a plain betta fish, to be a reminder to me of forgotten truths:

His ways are not our ways, for He continues looks beyond outer appearances, into the heart of each soul. 

He still calls out to the weary.

He still uses the small, the weak and the scared. 

He still defeats the enemy with the wounded sinner. 

And He promises to us that He has great plans for our lives too … if only we are willing to be used for His glory.


F is for the Fish who reminded me God wants to use me just as I am.

Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of “the brightest and the best” among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these “nobodies” to expose the hollow pretensions of the “somebodies”? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That’s why we have the saying, “If you’re going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God.”

~ 1 Corinthians: 26-31

Something More than a Half-Hearted Love

I’ve got a weird feeling in my heart. It’s a lump of grief without tears, an uncomfortable tickle urging me to cough, a thick feeling I”d like to swallow away and yet when I try I find it lingers on in the back of my throat. All over my Facebook feed, I’ve been reading about World Vision’s decision to begin employing homosexuals in an effort to unify the church. Jon and I sponsor 3 children through World Vision.

Sigh.  Now what?

This question has been floating around my head since I first learned the news of World Vision’s change of policy. Do we continue giving to World Vision? Does their policy on homosexuality truly matter in the long run as we aren’t basing our family’s theology off of World Vision? What happens if I stop sending our financial gifts to World Vision? Will those 3 beautiful girls in the photos stop receiving services? I pondered about what I should do in response to this new information.  Surely, by partnering with World Vision and giving financially to their programs, I am loving the “least of these” … Right?

Figuring it was too early in the morning for such deep thoughts and wanting to ease my stress, I decided to check my email.  But doing so only made my heart ache worse, for in one of the emails I read about Wesley and his story.                                                      ( http://mad.ly/4bca94 )

Wesley ... wanting a family; waiting in China.
Wesley … wanting a family; waiting in China.

Wesley isn’t an orphan exactly. He’s an abandoned child. Left at the gate of an orphanage by his family at age six … no note, no explanation given.  Just a boy, alone.  He will turn 14 in August … at which point he will age out of the system, no longer able to be adopted, destined to live his life without a family.

After reading about this boy “whom no one cared for,”my instant thought was to pray for some other person to come love him. And then, like a small shockwave to my soul, I heard a whisper in my heart, saying, “What about you? How will you love my sheep? Are you willing to do more than give a little bit of half-hearted love?”

Quite honestly, my involvement with World Vision has been just that … half-hearted. Oh, a couple of times a week I pause to pray for Samanise, Manahel and Julian by name, if I don’t forget. Each month the money flows out of my bank account, never really missed.

Somehow it feels empty, this giving without engagement. There’s no cost to me really.  Even though I do pay out $100 or so a month, it’s rather easy come, easy go money.  I don’t even know the exact amount. I rarely think of it. I just pay and go about my own business.

How is this loving someone else in the name of Christ?

Please. Don’t misunderstand me or my heart this morning. Giving is wonderful. God expects us to give, even give sacrificially. I am grateful for those people who have poured into my life, often financially or materially, when I needed it. I believe whole-heartedly that God loves a cheerful giver. There is nothing wrong with financially supporting ministries and it is something my family is blessed to be able to do regularly.

Yet deep down I know that for me the act of giving money to World Vision is no more loving than giving away my old, discarded clothes to Goodwill is an act of love.

So why do I bother? Perhaps to feel better about myself? Maybe to convince myself and others that I really do care?

The Bible says that Christians will be known by their love. (John 13:35)  So why is it that most days I don’t feel loving? I feel a lot of things: stress over money, worry about raising my kids right, concern for the direction my nation is heading. But it saddens me to think I don’t really feel loving towards others, especially people who aren’t in my little world, which revolves mostly around me and my activities.

This year, my family has been working to memorize the love chapter of the Bible.  I’ve always enjoyed the flow of this passage of scripture. Normally, the rhythm of the words lilt along, leaving pleasant sorts of thoughts in my mind.

1 Corinthians 13: 1, 3

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. … If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Not this morning. Today the words stung, prickling my heart, mostly because I know what love looks like:

Reid & Eli, Dec. 2013
Reid & Eli, Dec. 2013

It looks like my brother Reid and his wife Heather, who put money, time and tears into adopting Eli.  Now, our entire family is richer for this blessing in ways I cannot even begin to describe.

Uncle Curt in Uganda
Uncle Curt in Uganda

It looks like my Uncle Curt and Aunt DeDe, who picked up and moved to Africa to serve as missionaries. They left behind aging parents, beautiful grandchildren, and a comfortable life, simply because they know Christ and wanted to share His love with those who didn’t.

It looks like my friend Marcia, who I’ve never met face-to-face, but if I did I’d immediately hug her neck and tell her what an inspiration she is to me. Instead of just talking big about being pro-life on social media, Marcia and her husband are actually stepping out in faith by helping one young pregnant woman choose life by adopting her baby. (Here’s the link to her story:  http://marcia-underhiswings.blogspot.com/2014/03/happy-anniversary-were-having-baby.html )

Love isn’t half-hearted, and it isn’t empty either. It is action. It is involved. It is compassion and truth mixed together. While love isn’t all about fuzzy, feel-good moments, it fills the giver and the receiver up and makes a mark on the soul.

Because I know what love looks like, I am challenged to do more than give a little half-hearted love. I ask for your prayers as I seek for God to reveal to me how I can love others with His love.

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’

 And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’


The Apostle Paul … and Me

If asked, could you describe the Apostle Paul?

I am betting the odds are pretty good you can, especially if you have spent much time reading the New Testament of the Bible or attending a Bible-preaching church.

What words would you use to capture his personality?

Bold. Outspoken. Unafraid. Unashamed. Demanding of self and others. Vibrant. Energetic. Intense. Strong. Charismatic. Verbose. Wise. Opinionated. Focused.

Those are just a few of the many words that immediately pop into my mind. No doubt … Paul was an incredible giant of the faith. His leadership did much to propel the message of Jesus Christ from the dusty streets of Jerusalem to the far corners of the ancient world. His influence continues to this day for he authored 13 books in the Bible, words which spell out how a follower of Christ should live life on everything from marriage and children to giving and church leadership.

But there is another aspect to Paul that intrigues me … his self-introductions.  You find them in every New Testament book he authored, right at the beginning, yet another testament to his bold personality.  The words of introduction found in each book are similar and yet different, telling who he is, on what authority he speaks, and occasionally what compels him to continue his mission for Christ.

For example, in his letter to Philemon, Paul referred to himself as a “prisoner of Christ Jesus.” In other letters, he used the word “slave.”

Paul and Timothy, slaves of Christ Jesus … Philippians 1:1

Paul, a slave of Christ Jesus … Romans 1:1

Paul often identified himself as an apostle, which in the Greek refers to “one who is sent away with a message” … rather like an ambassador.

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by God’s will … Colossians 1:1

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by God’s will for the promise of life in Christ Jesus …         2 Timothy 1:1

Paul, called as an apostle of Christ Jesus by God’s will … 1 Corinthians 1:1

I love Paul’s introductions found in his letter to the church of Galatia for he plainly states his authority to speak and write come only from Jesus Christ.  Basically, Paul says that he doesn’t care what men might think of him, for he is only concerned about following what God has called him to do.

Paul, an apostle — NOT from men or by man, but by Jesus Christ and God the Father who raised Him from the dead  … Galatians 1:1

I think my favorite of all of Paul’s introductions is the one is his letter to Titus.  It reads like this:

Paul, a slave of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ, to BUILD UP THE FAITH of God’s elect and THEIR KNOWLEDGE OF THE TRUTH that leads to godliness, in the hope of eternal life that God, who cannot lie, promised before time began. In His own time He has revealed His message in the proclamation that I was entrusted with by the command of God our Savior.

Paul leaves no doubt about who he was, what mission he was given, and by whose authority he is qualified to write and speak.

Has there ever been a follower as effective in personal mission as the Apostle Paul?

I would certainly be hard-pressed to name one.  Perhaps part of his ability to be so effective was that Paul truly knew who he was in Christ. He realized the calling for his mission, his ability to perform at a high standard, and even the authority on which he stood all came from one source … God Almighty. He was “singled out” (Romans 1:1), “called” (1 Corinthians 1:1; Romans 1:1) and “an apostle by command” (1 Timothy 1:1). Paul recognized who he was, and he was able to define it in words for himself and the world.

As a Christ follower, I’m also part of a mission … The Great Commission. I even believe that God has given me a much more personal mission as wife, mother and writer. Lately, I’ve been pondering if I really understand my calling from God.  What if I’ve misheard God? Maybe I’m not really qualified to do His work?  I certainly don’t have a seminary degree or special letters behind my name announcing my qualifications.

This morning I found myself pouring over the New Testament, finding all of Paul’s letters, reading his words of introduction announcing who he is and why he writes.  The thought crossed my mind that perhaps Paul repeatedly gave his qualifications not just for the benefit of others, but also to remind himself of his own mission to serve God, the calling he received on the Damascus Road.

As a writer, I wondered what might happen if I wrote my own Paul-like introduction.  Could I even put into words what I hope I know God is asking me to do for His purposes and glory? Could I share it, not to brag or boast, but to define for myself why I am here and what exactly I am called to do?

In the end, I decided to accept my writing challenge. It did boost my self-esteem and confidence, reminded me of times when I heard God’s calling loud and clear in my life. I’d like to share my final version.

Paige, blessed to be the wife of Jon and mother of five by God’s will, and called by the Savior and Creator of the world to write and speak words of encouragement in order to increase the faith of women who long to find God on a daily basis, even if the mundane parts of life. No longer held a prisoner to sin and fears, but rather a servant, eager to work for the King of Kings.

Perhaps I’ll redefine later on, but for now just writing down these words has given me a clearer idea of what it is the God wants most for me to do with my life.

What would you write if you had to define your purpose and calling for God?

I’d love to read the thoughts and ideas of my readers so that I may have the privilege of praying for you to do well in your own missions for God.