This blog is where I can pour out my heart with my longing for God.

Archive for March, 2012

A dream deferred–off to Ireland!

I am a rabid St. Patrick fan–have been ever since I was a little girl who loved pinching those apathetic party-poopers who chose not to wear green on March 17. At the top of my childhood bucket list was my desire to visit a Celtic country–primarily St. Patrick’s Ireland or Scotland. I worked in tobacco fields in the summer (the only way a child in my neck of the North Carolina woods could earn money back in the ’70s) to save money for that dreamed-of trip abroad.

Most of my meager earnings went to new school clothes or recreational activities, but I managed to put minute amounts in my basement hiding place for that Celtic excursion. I remember the summer of my 12th year when my grand total in the trip fund was $15.

One steamy July morning, I walked to my little country church for Sunday services. What a surprise to see a new face in the pulpit! It was a representative from the Gideons–the ones who raise money to purchase Bibles to put in hotels, hospitals and other such places. But this guest speaker spent most of his sermon regaling us with stories of how the Gideons provided Bibles for people in foreign lands.

I was lost in a reverie of faraway places when suddenly church was ending and the offering plate was being passed. All money collected would go to the Gideons for their worthwhile work. My heart sank because I longed to donate to this cause, but I, like most young children, didn’t regularly bring money to church services.

Then I thought of the $15 tucked away in the basement. My mind said, “You’ll never go to Ireland or Scotland if you donate that money.” My heart said, “Give the money.”

I rushed out of the sanctuary and fairly flew back home, praying with every running step that the Gideon wouldn’t leave before I could get back. My prayers were answered. When I jogged back, sweaty and out of breath, I saw him outside of the church, talking to the small crowd.

I ran up to him, holding out my $15, gasping that I wanted to help send Bibles to foreign lands. To this day, I remember exactly how that kind man looked at me. As a child, I didn’t understand his quizzical yet loving look. As an adult, I realize that his heart was probably touched by the innocent, impulsive gesture of a child to whom $15 was a small fortune.

It seems I barely blinked and was suddenly grown and the mother of several children. There was no time nor money for pleasure trips anywhere in the U.S.–much less to Celtic countries. Still I dreamed of the Emerald Isle and lilting accents.

In December 1999, I stood among thousands in Baltimore, MD, as the results were announced for an eight-hand Irish figure dance competition at the Southern Regional Oireachtas (qualifying rounds for the World Championships of Irish dance in Belfast, Northern Ireland). To my utter shock, my 12-year-old daughter’s team was the winner. The huge ballroom seemed to spin as I realized that I would be going to Ireland within months!

In April 2000, I stood in the spacious beauty of a Catholic church in Ireland on a weekday, sunlight shining through the stained glass windows in the silence of the empty church. As my overflowing heart lifted a praise to my Creator for allowing me to live my dream and to check off one of the top things on my nearly 30-year-old bucket list, I suddenly was taken back to that 12-year-old girl (the very age of my precious dancer daughter) holding out a wad of crumpled one-dollar bills to pay for Bibles abroad.

And I knew that perhaps we do indeed reap what we sow, even when we are not expecting a return.

Since then, I have been to the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland two more times with my champion Irish-dancing children. I was last there in the spring of 2008 when I determined before boarding the plane out of Charlotte, NC, that I would make this trip a pilgrimage in search of the essence of my hero, St. Patrick.

The first stop on my St. Patrick pilgrimage was the Hill of Tara in County Meath, Ireland–the ancient sacred site where the high kings of Ireland were supposedly crowned in the pre-Christian era of Ireland. There, two of my children and I stood beside what is purported to be the Lia Fáil or Stone of Destiny which was used as an inauguration stone for the kings of Ireland. Supposedly St. Patrick visited this site shortly after he lit his famous Paschal fire on the nearby Hill of Slane.

The second stop as I paid homage to St. Patrick was the historic Hill of Slane, also in County Meath, about 16 kilometers (9.9 miles) from the Hill of Tara. Today the ruins of Slane Friary’s church and college, abandoned in 1723, occupy the site. Some scholars believe that St. Patrick, in 433 A.D., lit a huge fire at the Easter season to defy the Irish High King Laoire who did not allow other fires to be lighted while he burned his pagan festival fire on the Hill of Tara.

From the Hill of Slane in the Republic of Ireland, it was on to County Down in Northern Ireland, south of Belfast. In the town of Downpatrick stands the majestic Down Cathedral, a late 18th-century restoration of an 1183 Benedictine Monastery. Here it is said St. Patrick is buried. Born in about 389 A.D., he had come to Ireland as a 16-year-old slave boy stolen from his home on the isle of Britain, escaped back to his home, then returned to Ireland later in adulthood when he felt compelled to spread the Gospel to the Irish people. He died on what we now call St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, @461 A.D.

Behind the Down Cathedral is a stone with a plaque that tells the story of St. Patrick being buried there, just a couple of miles from the small village where he had preached his first sermon in a barn. Supposedly he is in good company in this tranquil resting place–with St. Brigid and St. Columba nearby. My son, who had qualified to dance solo in the World Championships that year, and I laid freshly picked daffodils on the stone that lies atop my hero’s grave before solemnly leaving that sacred site.

Just a few miles from Down Cathedral lies the tiny village of Saul where St. Patrick preached his first sermon in the barn of the local chieftain Dichu who had been converted to Christianity. In 432, the first Christian church in all of Ireland was built nearby. In 1932, a replica of that first church, complete with a round tower, was built on the site of the original Saul Church.

I “just happened” to arrive there on the Saturday night before Easter and was able to attend the Easter Sunday service there, complete with communion at the altar. This experience seemed almost surreal to me–as if it had all been orchestrated by a divine hand.

In the background of the church, on a high hill called Slieve Patrick in the viewable distance, stands a giant statue of St. Patrick erected in 1932 to commemorate the 1500th anniversary of his 432 A.D. return to Ireland.

My final stop on my St. Patrick pilgrimage was Slieve Patrick–very near Saul Church–where the giant statue of the saint towers at the crest of the peak. On the path leading up the steep hill, there are various stops to view Biblical statues and scenes before arriving at the pinnacle where the base of the huge statue has panels depicting the life of St. Patrick.

I may have been a grown woman at the time of this sacred pilgrimage that I was blessed by God to take, but inside I was that late-bloomer of a little girl who had just turned 12 and yearned to visit the Emerald Isle. What seemed so far away and nearly impossible on that sticky July day in 1974 materialized into vivid reality in 2000 and 2003 but most memorably during Easter week 2008. A nearly dead childhood dream had been resurrected.

God’s pretty good at doing that, isn’t He?

For such a time as this! Purim 2012

When I first felt the call to minister and to intercede for my hometown of Walnut Cove in 1996, the story of Queen Esther became very meaningful to me. A close friend of mine, Edith Searcy, kept telling me that I, like Esther, was being asked to step into harm’s way to intercede for Walnut Cove–to pray for a mighty move of the Holy Spirit there that would overpower the darkness, stagnation, corruption and deterioration that prevailed in my little Southern town.

One of my favorite verses quickly became Esther 4:14: “For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

So for me back then, imagining my town transformed both spiritually and physically was like imagining my own Purim–Feast of Lots. This was the feast that the Jews were told to celebrate (not directly by God, but still He was mightily involved) in Esther 9:28: “That that these days should be remembered and kept throughout every generation, every family, every province, and every city; and that these days of Purim should not fail from among the Jews, nor the memorial of them perish from their seed.”

Purim comes on the 14th and 15th days of the 12th Jewish month, Adar 14-15. But on our calendar, the date varies from year to year–usually from mid-February to mid- to late March. This year Adar 14 began Wednesday night, March 7, at sunset.

Sixteen years after first feeling the call of God to Walnut Cove, I am now the leader of Times of Refreshing, a ministry that intercedes for positive change in our town and strives to provide meetings where the presence of God is real, which is where, according to Acts 3:19, times of refreshing can be found. “Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord.”

I teach on the Jewish holidays and Feasts of the Lord, with special emphasis on how they relate symbolically to Christianity. And I observe these moedim–appointed times–the best I can–not because “I have to,” but because “I GET to!” This past week, I reserved our local library for two nights: the first night to teach on Purim, the second night to celebrate it. I invited the general public to come.

It ended up being a marvelous time. Come celebrate and learn about Purim through a hodgepodge of our many pictures!

Twenty-five people of different ages, races, genders and Christian denominations came out to our Purim celebration! Some wore simple masks in honor of Queen Esther whose true identity as a Jewess was

kept secret for a while as she first served as Queen of Persia. Jews often celebrate Purim with masquerades, masks, parades.

As we read the Book of Esther aloud, audience members donned different masks to represent the characters. My son Elijah wore the King Ahasuerus mask. This was technically King Xerxes I who ruled from his palace in the walled city of Shushan in the huge Persian empire in the fifth century B.C.

My daughter Abigail played the role of Queen Vashti, King Ahasuerus’ first queen. He basically kicked her out when she refused to reveal her breathtaking beauty (by stripping naked or simply removing her veil– we don’t know) at a banquet that he and his drunken friends were attending.

So the search was on for a new queen. The most beautiful virgins in the land were prepared with beauty treatments for many months and then brought before the King. An orphaned Jewish girl named Esther (Hadassah in Hebrew for the lovely myrtle tree) won the King’s heart and was chosen as queen. Whenever we read her name in the Purim story, the crowd sighed delightfully in unison memory of this heroic woman.

Esther had been raised by her cousin Mordecai, a Jew who had risen to high positions in the Persian government while the Jews were in captivity in that land. When his name was read aloud at our celebration, we all clapped and shouted hurrah for this hero who urged Esther to go before the King and intercede for the Jewish people once a sinister plot was uncovered that they were going to be killed.

The author of this villainous plot was the King’s prime minister, Haman. Whenever I read aloud his name, we booed and stomped our feet in disapproval and blew our noisemakers. My little son Malachi did not like the noise, but Purim is commanded to be a merry, joyous feast. In fact, the Talmud records that some ancient rabbis said you should get so drunk that you don’t know if you’re saying “Blessed be Mordecai or cursed be Haman!” We decided we’d better remain sober for our gathering!

We reveled in the story of how Queen Esther approached the King at great peril to her life–to beseech for the lives of her Jewish people. In the end, her people were saved when the King allowed them to fight back when they were attacked, and they came forth with a mighty victory. Haman and all of his family were done away with, and Mordecai and Esther sent notices throughout the land for Jews to always remember this time:

“To stablish this among them, that they should keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly, As the days wherein the Jews rested from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning into a good day: that they should make them days of feasting and joy, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.” Esther 9:21-22

When our night of merriment was drawing to a close, we enjoyed a potluck snack session, with everything from Krispy Kreme doughnuts to chicken salad croissants. The Jews not only feast at Purim, but they also send portions of goodies to their friends and family. We each brought a treat to share–our portion to our loved ones there.

The Jews also give to the poor at Purim, as they do during most of their holy days. We took up an offering for our local outreach ministry that provides food, clothing, heating fuel and other necessities to the less fortunate.

We have come into the kingdom for such a time as this–to spread the love and Gospel of Jesus Christ, to care for those who may need a helping hand, to love our neighbors as ourselves, to trust God for a mighty deliverance from evil as in the Book of Esther–for our personal lives, towns and cities–yea, even our nation and world.

Below, I have posted a YouTube video of our teaching/Bible study before our Purim celebration. It is very entertaining (I promise!) and extremely educational.

Below that I have the information from the handout that we used during our study of Purim. It accompanies the video and is a real help.

Hope you enjoy this! Start believing God for your own Purim and mighty deliverance where darkness is present anywhere in your life!


Why is it called Purim?
“Wherefore they called these days Purim after the name of Pur. . .” (Esther 9:26)
–“Pur”– “lot” (“Purim”–the plural “lots”)
–after the lot that was cast to decide the month and day to kill the Jews
–Also known as the “Feast of Esther”
When is Purim?
The last feast of the Jewish year
–held on Adar 14 (late February or March)
–12th and final Jewish month (leap year–Adar II)
–celebrated in Jerusalem and other walled cities in Israel on Adar 15 (called Shushan Purim)
–added much later than the Feasts of the Lord commanded in Lev. 23
–does have historical Biblical background (documented in Esther), unlike Hanukkah

What is the history behind Purim?
–5th century B.C. many Jews in Persia
–became semi–assimilated (mark Esther’s name)
–main characters
–King Ahasuerus (Xerxes I, 486-465 B.C.)
–Queen Vashti: shamed the king and was dethroned
–Esther (Hadassah–“myrtle”): orphaned and raised by cousin Mordecai; chosen as queen
–Mordecai, high official in the Medo-Persian court
–descendant of Kish, a Benjamite–like King Saul
–Haman: prince promoted to prime minister
–descendant of King Agag, the Amalekite
–Amalek: Esau’s grandson whose people attacked Israel in the wilderness
–hence, Deut. 25:19
–later King Saul was disobedient
–led to what happened at Purim
–setting: Shushan, capital of Persia (just north of Persian Gulf in modern Iran)–Persian Empire had 127 provinces from India to Ethiopia
–chain of events
–Mordecai saved king’s life
–Mordecai refused to idolize Haman
–Haman plotted to kill all Jews because of Mordecai
–cast the lot to find time: Adar 13
–Mordecai begged Esther to intervene at risk of her life (Esther 4:14)
–Esther called a 3-day fast before petitioning king
–invited him and Haman to banquet, then to another
–after the 1st, king ordered chronicles read to him
–meanwhile, Haman sees Mordecai again
–king calls Haman in to find way to honor Mordecai
–at 2nd banquet, Esther petitions king; identifies Haman
–Haman throws himself at Esther’s couch
–king comes in and misunderstands
–orders Haman hanged
–Mordecai promoted
–law cannot be repealed
–king gave Jews the right of self-defense
–fought on Adar 13 and won
–longer fighting in Shushan
–Mordecai sent letters to Jews to celebrate Adar 14-15
–Esther 9:20-21
How is Purim to be celebrated?
Actually the merriest holiday on the Jewish calendar
Adar 13 became known as the “Fast of Esther”
–fast originally near Passover; few keep it today
Main traditions today: Esther 9:22
–no restrictions on working–minor holiday
–reading the Book of Esther (“megillah”–scroll)
–Haman: booing, clapping, stamping feet, noisemakers (groggers), writing his name on shoe bottoms
–taking a collection for the poor
–sending food delicacies (plate of cake, pastries, fruit, nuts) to friends, often delivered by a child
–feasting (usually at the end of Purim)
–hamantashan: triangular pastries w/poppy seed or prune filling (“mohn”–poppy seed, “taschen”–pockets)
–kreplach: noodle-like dish made from triangular pieces of dough, stuffed with a chopped meat and minced-onion filling and served in a thick, steaming soup
–some rabbis even encouraged drinking
–masquerades, costumes, carnivals, parades

What is the symbolism for Christians?
To show that the enemies of God are defeated (Zech. 2:8)
“The path of anti-Semitism is a well-worn path that always leads to the destruction of its traveler. . .Even as the fate of Pharaoh, Antiochus Epiphanes, Hitler, Nasser, Khomeini (whose name actually was ‘Haman’ in Farsi), so, too, will be the fate of Qadafi, Arafat, Assad, Saddam Hussein, and the host of others who dare to curse Israel and thereby the God of Abraham.” (The Feasts of the Lord by Kevin Howard and Marvin Rosenthal, 1997)
To show that God always delivers His people
To show how God turns things around for His glory
–Gen. 50:20, Esther 8:17, Haman’s gallows

I just couldn’t help it

Last night's full moon with its rainbow ring

I just couldn’t help it, I HAD to GO
Outside on the deck in the moonlight’s glow,
(Yes, I know it is late and I should be abed,
But the moon calls my name–I can sleep when I’m dead!)

I just couldn’t help it, the moon was so bright
And around it a ring shed a rainbow light,
(Yes, the deadbolt was locked and the kids are asleep,
But I flung the door open–this beauty won’t keep!)

I just couldn’t help it, the clouds scudded fast
O’er the face of the moon, gleaming white as they passed,
(Yes, the night air was chill, and my poor feet were bare,
But the moon was so full, and I knew God was there!)

I just couldn’t help it, the night seemed like day
As the moonbeams poured down, keeping darkness at bay,
(Yes, I know I am grown, not an impulsive kid,
But my soul cried out, “Go!” and I’m so glad I did!)

Daffodils make good prayer partners

My outdoor sanctuary just up the road

It is late at night. The kids are all in bed at last. My tired body notifies me of the strain of the day that demanded of me more than I could do. The feeling of being behind is almost stifling to me now. I vegetate on the couch, staring at a blank TV.

But this picture is where I want to be–sitting on the wooden benches in my outdoor sanctuary up the street where daffodils wave in the late afternoon sunlight, beckoning me to join them in worshiping the Son.

Daffodils make good prayer partners.

They don’t say a word but simply worship their Creator with beauty and elegance–cheerful faces absorbing the rays. They bloom vibrantly for a short while and then are gone.

Sort of like us here on Earth.

How could I know that this week would be so full of things I MUST do? The celebration of Purim (but I love teaching Bible classes at the local library on how the Jewish holidays are still symbolically important for Christians!) just happened to coincide this year with our regular second Thursday 4-H meeting (but I’m the volunteer leader who loves 4-H and my family volunteered for the March program because we Irish dance and love Ireland!) which just happened to be sandwiched in between two days of my son’s high school baseball games (but I adore baseball and am the team’s scorekeeper and blogger for the website!) which just happened to be scheduled right when our 104-year-old local historian/genealogist would pass away (but who knew that would happen at this time?) which would mean I would be asked to write the feature story for the local newspaper in his memory (but he was my mentor and friend and I am honored to write the story about him because I am following in his footsteps and will miss him!) on top of my duties of running a nonprofit Christian ministry in town (but I live for this and love to study God’s Word for our church service in a few days!) which reminds me that I have to finish the paperwork for our 501(c)3 status (but I HAVE to do that soon so that we can move into our building which won’t be given to us until we are certified!) and I also have to go to the Social Security office and wait hours to have my name changed (but our church needs a bank account and they won’t open the account until we have an EIN which we can’t get until my name matches my Social Security number!) which reminds me that I didn’t order my son’s bat online tonight (but the boy needs a bat of his own so he can quit borrowing other boys’ bats!) which jogs my memory to fill out the paperwork for Little League for all three kids (but we breathe baseball and are ready to play!) and all of this is stressing me out to the point that I have already forgotten the many other things on my LONG to-do list and the many people whose emails and Facebook messages I haven’t answered because my brain slots are filled up and the gray fog of denial has settled in between my ears.

But daffodils make good prayer partners.

My daughter Chelsea took this picture in the park near her home in Tobaccoville.

And they don’t demand anything of me as I sit on the wooden bench and gaze at the beauty of the burgeoning spring all around me. And the gales of March whip my hair around and somehow help clear out the fog in my brain. And the birds serenade me with trills and songs of serenity that make my to-do list seem rather unimportant at the moment. And the lack of computer, TV or cell phone gives me a freedom to breathe deeply again and take stock of what’s really important.

Yep, that’s where I want to be. But it’s midnight, and I’m here on the couch as the silence of the all-are-abed house is punctuated by the never-ending ticking duel between the living room clock and the kitchen clock.

If Robert Frost were here, I would ask him if this is how he felt when he penned, “But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.”

The lateness of the hour arouses guilt in me; I can hear my hubster saying when he walks in from his third shift job tomorrow morning, “You didn’t stay up past midnight again, did you?” As of right now exactly (the clock just struck 12), I must mournfully answer, “Yes.”

Sometimes staying up late is the only way a busy mother can find quiet time to think, meditate, pray, sort out the promises she still has to keep, and dream. . .dream of the the outdoor sanctuary just up the road where the wooden benches sit peacefully and where nodding daffodils make good prayer partners.

The power of words: part I

When discussing the power of words, what is key is making sure everything relates back to THE WORD, JESUS!

I’ve been meaning to continue blogging my thoughts on the “once saved, always saved” doctrine but have been so incredibly busy–what with spring sports starting–that I have been a poor blogger. However, the subject that is burning a hole in my soul these days has to do with the power of our words.

Do you believe that what you speak has power? I do. And no, I’m not on some New Agey kick. If the New Agers believe in the power of the spoken word, then they stole the premise from God’s Word. The ancient Jews put great stock in the power of words. For goodness sakes, they wouldn’t even say His name YHVH out of respect for the power and sacredness of it and the scary potential of using it in vain. When they gave their word, they kept it even when it meant great heartache to them.

Remember when Jacob took his family back to see Esau and the home folks? Unbeknownst to him, his beloved wife Rachel had made off with her father Laban’s household idols. When Laban chased them down to see who the thief was, Jacob cried out, “But if you find anyone who has your gods, that person shall not live.” (Gen. 31:32) Rachel was not caught at that time and did not die immediately, though the curse had been pronounced by her husband. Not long after that, however, she died an untimely death while giving birth to Benjamin.

The spoken word has been vital since creation. “Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.” (Hebrews 11:3)

Jesus is called the Word. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men.” (John 1:1-4) This Scripture shows the power in the Word–it creates, it gives life, it brings light.

So if that has been true of the word (Word) all along, why do we negate the power of the spoken word today? Yes, I know that some preachers involved in what has been called “The Word of Faith” movement have abused this truth. I shudder to think of the preachers who taught that Christians could go lay hands on what they wanted and speak it into existence–the whole “name it, claim it” movement. I remember reports of people laying hands on Cadillacs at the dealership, naming it and claiming it. I am embarrassed by that.

I wonder if they got their Cadillacs. “When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.” (James 4:3)

In some cases, the movement has given way to “faith in faith” rather than “faith in Jesus Christ and His words.” My daughter believes that in a sense, it has become a religion in itself, like using the Scriptures as a magic mantra/formula to try to get what one wants–a hoodoo voodoo incantation to get results.

That being said, I DO believe that there is credibility to the Word of Faith movement when applied correctly and according to the Word of God. There’s no way that the spoken word had such power long ago but suddenly doesn’t today. You can’t convince me of that.

And yes, I’ve read myriad teachings against the Word of Faith movement. I’ve read testimonies of people who have escaped a cultish-style of teaching in some of these churches. They make a lot of valid points. But just because some leaders and churches have abused and misinterpreted Scripture doesn’t mean we throw out the baby with the bath water. Don’t veer back too far to the right just because you got mixed up with some folks who were too far to the left. God’s true way is not found in either extreme.

Joyce Meyer, in one of her books on healing, tells this story:

“There was a man who was sick and who was confessing the Word over his body, quoting healing Scriptures and believing for his healing to manifest.  While doing so, he was intermittently attacked with thoughts of doubt. After he had gone through a hard time and was beginning to get discouraged, God opened his eyes to the spirit world.  This is what he saw: a demon speaking lies to him, telling him that he was not going to get healed and that confessing the Word was not going to work. But he also saw that each time he confessed the Word, light would come out of his mouth like a sword, and the demon would cower and fall backward.  As God showed him this vision, the man then understood why it was so important to keep speaking the Word.  He saw that he did have faith, which is why the demon was attacking him with doubt.”

If the Word was a light in John 1, then why can’t the Word of God still produce light and healing? (The point is to make sure one is speaking the true Word of God, not some “name it and claim it and get a condo in Hawaii” word.)

If the Word was life in John 1, then surely speaking the Word of God produces actual life (not just eternal life in Heaven). “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow;” (Hebrews 4:12) His Word is living!

Speaking (literally) and applying His Word to our bodies (through Godly lifestyles) could, according to my interpretation of the Bible, produce light, life and health. “My son, pay attention to what I say; turn your ear to my words. Do not let them out of your sight, keep them within your heart; for they are life to those who find them and health to one’s whole body.” (Proverbs 4:20-22)

But what should it all point back to? Faith in faith? Faith in words as a magic formula? NO. God forbid.

It should all point back to Jesus Christ and His sacrifice on the cross–the shedding of His blood that we might be made whole–spirit, soul and body.

(I have TONS more to write on this subject; this is just the tip of the iceberg. Wait until you hear how I think quantum physics supports the theory of power in our words. I am studying things such as frequencies and vibrations of the spoken word. And before you make the sign of the cross and say, “Ooh, New Agey!”, remember Who created this Earth with the frequencies and sound waves. He certainly had a purpose in this, and I believe He intends for Christians to make use of His creation. There’s a reason that playing heavy metal music to plants eventually kills them, while peaceful music makes them healthier. . .something about those sound waves and vibrations. Tune in soon!)

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