Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Is He REALLY a GOOD GOD?


Most of you who read this blog are rooted in biblical Truth, given us by the Spirit of God. From that foundation we form our worldview. We know that until our Lord takes up His Throne and every knee bows to Him all efforts to bring peace on this earth will fail. Only then will we be exonerated from any form of human government . Because man's heart in the natural is "desperately wicked" all earthly governments fold in on themselves.

I have never been very good at ignoring an elephant in the room. Last week was the "Elephant Convention"  This week is "The Donkey Convention". This very well may be my last presidential election and I am not sitting this one out....so what am I "listening" for during these hours and hours of speeches? ...the not-so-well hidden personal agendas, based upon the way a man or woman is programmed to think.  "As a man thinks in his heart, so is he". Because Michelle's speech is freshest in my mind I will comment on just one of her statements:  "The house my family has lived in for eight years was built by slaves". ...very telling.  The wound is still there, and determines how she thinks.

If you are a student of the Word you know where this world is headed. How long do we have before we actually lay down our very lives for the Gospel, as are many around the world today? Only God knows the answer to that. I am not sleeping very well these days. If you are, well, good for you! I will be outta here before long, but my family and your family had better buckle up, no matter who is our next President. One would have to actually go to a poverty-stricken country to believe what it looks and smells like. In Kenya we saw hundreds of thousands of  street children whose parents have died of Aids. We shared meals at a convent with a Catholic woman doctor from Paris who was assigned to Nairobi's slums to pluck the orphans from the garbage heaps where they had been tossed to die.  Christians are sacrificing everything they are and have to bring water, food, shelter and the Gospel to millions of Africans. Lord, give courage and love to Phil, Deb and Greg. In Cairo, surrounded by teeming masses of starving people, we could not step out of our hotel without having mothers throw their babies in front of us, forcing us to step on them unless we gave them money. I could not bear it and  holed up in our hotel room, falling on my knees, crying out to God: "Where ARE You, God? ...my collection of Sovereignty-of- God scriptures not working well for me.  Lord, give courage to Phil as he lays down his life for these people.  In Indonesia, with its quarter of the Muslim population crowding the streets, the men falling on their faces five times a day toward Mecca to pray to an impersonal god,   are sacrificial Christians giving everything to convince these poverty-stricken people that "God is a GOOD God".  Lord, give strength and courage to Denyse and Greg....and there are ever so many other countries whose deplorable living conditions are imprinted on my mind

 I wouldn't fault you a bit if you are thinking:   "Jo Stone, you live in a lovely home in the mountains in a relatively good climate, year 'round, you drive a truck that is still sturdy after wheeling it around your mountains for seven years; your refrigerators and freezers are stuffed with food enough for weeks ahead.". Am I grateful?   I cannot even mention His Name without weeping. He showed me a long time ago that I own nothing. ......not my home, not my husband, not my children, and not my grandchildren. Nothing. ...not even myself.

He that will lose His life for My sake, will FIND it.  "...for you are not your own; you have been bought with a price.    ....for "It is the kindness of God that brings us to repentance." God has been so"kind" to America. ...but a good Father is also One who disciplines.  "To whom much is given, much is required." "We reap what we sow". You know those verses given us straight from the Mouth of God.   We ALL do who "...bow in humble adoration and there proclaim: 'My God,  how GREAT THOU ART!"

...comes a Gospel song request from dear Steve P. in Sugarland, Texas:

THIS WORLD IS NOT MY HOME...
I'm just a passin' through.
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue.
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.

'Way over in Glory land we'll live eternally
The saints on every hand are shouting "Victory!"
Their songs of sweetest praise drift back from Heaven's shore
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Oh, Lord, you know I have no friend like You.
If Heaven's not my home, then Lord,  what will I do?
The angels beckon me from Heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.

It is true that we are not "at home". ...but we have an assignment, as long as we have breath: to love broken people, pointing them to the Cross...to a GOOD God Who gave His Son to die, that they might have LIFE.

  Love,  Jo

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Dramas and Traumas

The last three blogs have been about drama and trauma in my personal life:  a TIA, a too-close-for-comfort forest fire and the choice to end her life by the youngest  daughter of my dearest-in-the-faith niece in Kansas. Her daughter's four children range in age from eleven to eighteen.

Just reading my Bible affords me plenty of both drama and trauma. The next drama....the one where we are whisked up in the twinkling of an eye...will be the Granddaddy of them  all. My soul is "groaning"...more some days than others. ...depending upon the level of the pain in my back. Yesterday I created a heck of a lot of pain in my back. That is trauma, and I did it to myself. I went grocery shopping for a few items and came back with a truckload. This morning I finished carrying them all in. ... and now my back is screaming and I am actually chuckling as I grimace. Some predispositions in our DNA never go away. My mother and my grandmother canned their bodies into their graves, lining up row upon row of jars of vegetables and fruits in the cellar cave. ...for all eventualities: guests, tornadoes, blizzards, dust storms, torrential rains or no rain. Many guests were drawn to my mother's table, as they are to mine.  It feels SO good to have more than enough food at all times. Am I thankful?  Of course! Ted and I have been in many countries where people by the millions are hungry.

Is there a famine coming? Possibly. In my lifetime? Possibly.  Is Jesus coming? Yes.  In my lifetime? Possibly. What does He tell me to do? ...Work!  All six of my grandchildren are either working hard to complete their educations or are working at their jobs.  I am proud of all of them, for they understand the biblical principle: "If you don't work,  you don't eat!"  

I lay on my deck bed as the sun came up this morning and watched a silvery plane skim across the sky high above my head, and wondered:  "Where are they going?" "What is the drama or trauma in the lives of the passengers that is taking them lickety split from somewhere to somewhere?" 

Well, on to water aerobics to work out the pain in  my back that I could have prevented, but didn't. ...then to come home, flip on the TV,  listen a bit to the Convention, then begin to think on Friday night's Singalong outside at the golf shop. The last one drew a mix of people who have found the Bread and some who haven't. As night settled over us, the six who came up the mountain from Bakersfield began to sing hymns in harmony.  I quit playing and the rest of us listened.  The God-hush brought us peacefully to the end of another week of personal dramas and traumas.  

...and now, a requested hymn from Mike S.: BLESSED ASSURANCE.

Blessed Assurance. Jesus is mine. Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine.
Heir of salvation; purchase of God. Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

Perfect submission, perfect delight. Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending, bring from above echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest. I in my Saviour am happy and blest;
Watching and waiting, looking above. Filled with His goodness; lost in His love.

THIS IS MY STORY; THIS IS MY SONG. PRAISING MY SAVIOUR ALL THE DAY LONG
THIS IS MY STORY, THIS IS MY SONG, PRAISING MY SAVIOUR ALL THE DAY LONG.

What's your favorite? 

Love,  Jo

Thursday, July 14, 2016

IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL

The widow who is really in need and left all alone puts her hope in God and continues night and day to pray and ask God for help.  I Timothy 5:5.  This "widow" is my niece by marriage. She has been my family soul mate for many decades. She walks with God. During the night on Wednesday of this week her youngest daughter, mother of four took her own life.  I ask that you pray for these chiildren who have akready been split in two by their parent's divorce, and for this faithful woman of God as she bears her own grief and comforts her remaining family. She has given them all His Word all of their lives. Her work is not finished.

In a past blog I invited you to tell me what hymn you want me to include.  My computer ate up your responses.  Would you be so kind as to send them again? I believe that one of you requested "It is Well with my Soul".  Here it is:

When peace like a river, attendeth my way; when sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
IT IS WELL; IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL.

Though satan should buffet, tho' trials should come; let this blest assurance control.
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, 
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin--oh, the bliss of this glorious thought; my sin,  not in part but the whole 
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll.
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend.
Even so--IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL.


IT IS WELL  (It is well) WITH MY SOUL (with my soul); 
IT IS WELL,   IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL.

Love,  Jo




Monday, July 4, 2016

Thank You, Lord

Many of you have called from around the country to see if my home burned in the fire this weekend. Many have texted scriptures. How precious is the Body of Christ. TV stations were reporting that all of Bear Valley Springs residents had been evacuated.  That was not true.  Some sections, including my daughter's and mine were told that leaving was "mandatory".  We opted to stay put, pray, trust God and wait, Fire crews were able to cut fire lines at the top of the mountain to stop the raging fire from crossing over to our side.

On Saturday morning five people showed up to help me evacuate.  In times past Ted and  I have weathered blizzards in Minnesota, a flood in Kansas, a house fire and two hurricanes in Houston, ...one that spun off a tornado a half block from our house.  Somehow I couldn't spring for packing up one more time, so packed the bare necessities, such as my kitty carrier with their food and litter at the ready; important papers, computer, keyboard (in case I would need to sit on a street corner and entertain for tips)  and a few clothes. The five of us sat in a circle in my garage, watched the helicopters carry water from our lakes, observed a stream of fire engines and cars speeding up and down the mountain, talked and prayed. The fire to the north (The Erskine Fire) took 240 homes. Our Bear Valley homes could have been next. The "all clear" came at 6 P.M. on Sunday. Probably all Bear Valley residents slept better that night. Monday,  the 4th, I felt numb. Each day I am snapping outta that. ...have to, because on Friday night I will be entertaining from my keyboard on the patio outside the Mulligan Room. Being able to remember every tune I ever heard without using any music is a mere talent. Everybody has a talent or two. Apparently my mind is still clicking on a few cylinders. I wish I could tell you that I can recite every scripture verse I ever heard.

Would you mind finding your own hymn to sing this time? ...then Email me what it is. You might want to check out a report from Jim Dobson on the web regarding Donald Trump.

May we all hover closely to our dear Father, staying anchored in His Word.


Love,  Jo


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