Matthew 5;^38-48 “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

I turned toward the bull and what I saw froze my vocal cords and my feet. Cal and Mede were in the pen with the bull. Cal was stuck. The bull was coming at him. I finally got my feet to move, but there was no way I could get there in time.

Mede ran between the bull and Cal, waving his hands, and the bull veered toward the river. Mede ran back to Cal and tried lifting him, but the mud held fast.

“Pull him out of his boots!” I yelled.

Mede tugged, but Mede, not being much bigger than Cal, fell. They both fell. And the bull turned.

From the outside of the fence I yelled at the bull, waving my arms, but he didn’t even seem to see me.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white in my peripheral vision and the whinnying of a horse.

I looked up to see a man in a black duster and crumpled black cowboy hat adorned with a pheasant feather, riding a white horse. He stopped short of Mede and Cal, blocking the bull’s way. The bull’s hooves thumped to a stop.

The chaos and yelling halted. All was quiet, save the pounding of my own heart.

The bull snorted. Turned away.

I fell down on my knees, weak with relief, and watched the rider pull Cal from his boots. Mede scrambled under the hot wire. Cal followed shortly behind. The cowboy hopped off his horse and worked with the fence.

“What exactly inspired you fellas to jump into Harvard’s pasture?”

“Well,” Mede started, his voice shaking.

Cal’s shoulders were shaking.

The cowboy and the horse walked close to them and then he worked to pull the fence back into place.

“They thought Eli’s bull was in danger,” I said, getting up on my feet again.

The cowboy nodded thoughtfully. His skin was brown, spotted, and unevenly creased. Shaggy eyebrows eclipsed his black eyes. “Well, that’s not Eli’s bull. That’s my bull. Eli takes care of him for me part of the time because I don’t have a decent pasture for him up by my place.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t know,” Mede said, staring at the ground.

“That’s all right, boys. I reckon it won’t happen again.”

I shook my head. “No, sir. It won’t.” I could hear Dad shutting the side door on the barn about that time. “That’s our Dad.”

The cowboy nodded. “We’ve met.”

“Everything all right, Evan?” Dad asked, a vial and syringe in his hand. He extended his free hand to Evan and they shook.

“I was just about to explain to your young ones that Old Harvard isn’t a Christian. It’s eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth with him. He’d demand your tunic for sure.”

Dad laughed. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I came down here to see if you would mind driving me and Oxford down the road a mile?”

“Be happy to. That all?”

“Well, if you’re feeling neighborly we could go another mile and maybe add twenty to it and go get a few head off the BLM next Thursday.”

Dad laughed again. “That’ll work just fine. Would you like to join us for lunch?”

“I’ve borrowed from your time enough, sir. You all have a good day now.”

Evan tipped his hat. We said our good byes.

On the ride home, Dad told us the story of how things went for Eli when he first bought the ranch. A misunderstanding on a cattle drive led to guns being drawn. No one was hurt, but there was a great deal of suspicion between neighbors for several years. Eli was new, so people, including Evan, blamed him for the difficulty. Eli felt it unfair but prayed about the situation, even when his mailbox got shot up and some of his calves on BLM ground got stolen. He figured prayer was his duty as a son of the Father.

For years Eli watched the sun rise on everybody’s land, watched it rain on their land and his, and it humbled him. He knew if he loved only those who loved him, he would get no reward. Even IRS employees love those who love them.

When he passed a neighbor on the road, he waved. He started waving at everybody on the road. “A pagan will wave back to somebody who waves at him,” Eli had said. “I can do better. I have to do better. Christ says I have to be perfect because my heavenly Father is perfect. I don’t know what that means in this situation, but it stands to reason that if He demands it, He’ll walk with me through this.”

Dad cleared his throat as we bumped along the dirt lane in the old Dodge. “I think about those difficult years for Eli whenever I see Evan.”

Dad finished the story just as well pulled up next to our house. Cal was sound asleep in my arms, his freckled face so innocent, his crooked little teeth white in his half-open mouth. I prayed a prayer of thanks that Eli had done what was right.

It was about then that Dad looked over the back seat and his eyes rested on Cal’s mud-soaked, once-white socks.

Matthew 5:27-37 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

“If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body be thrown into hell.

“And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of your members than that your whole body go into hell.

“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

“Again you have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but shall perform to the Lord what you have sworn.’ But I say to you, Do not take an oath at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not take an oath by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil.”

Dad shut off the truck, got out, and walked around the herd of cows and calves, checking for signs of illness or injury. The boys and Io stood on the trailer bed, kicking off the big chunks of hay remaining. Then Mede grabbed the broom and swept off the last.

In the adjoining pasture, a bull was making some noise.

“What’s his problem?” Cal asked.

Mede stopped, leaned on the broom, and looked toward the bull. A tuft of his rust colored curls stuck out around his beanie. “Adultery,” he said sagely.

Cal shook his head. “Do you reckon we ought to gouge out his eyes?”

Mede swept a little more, even though there was nothing left to sweep. “Good thinking, Cal. I don’t reckon we want Io’s bull to perish. You know, the problem with adultery is that it leads to divorce and breaking promises. We just don’t need that around these parts.”

Io tucked her face in the crook of her elbow and choked back her laughter. Mede had never talked like this when they lived in Gladstone.

“Do you have your pocket knife?”

Io was sitting on the edge of the trailer, her legs dangling off the side. She looked up at Mede to see if he was serious. “Mede, that bull is huge.”

“Io?” Dad called.

Io hopped off the trailer and ran to where her Dad was examining a cow laying down.

“This one doesn’t seem to be feeling so well.”

The cow’s wheezing made Io’s stomach turn.

“I left my pen in the truck,” Dad said. “Why don’t you grab that for me so I can write down her tag number.”

Io started running back to the truck, but stopped cold in the half-frozen muck, her eyes fixed on the trailer.

Cal and Mede were gone.

For the next few weeks we’ll go on adventures with a fictitious family. Their story is told from the perspective of a Country Girl who is named after one of Jupiter’s moons.

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.” Mom snuggled into the couch, Bible open, reading softly to herself.

The little guys slid around the house in their sock feet, chased by Dad who pretended to attempt to put their pajama shirts on. Dad rolled on the wood floor, grabbed my foot playfully in passing, and caught Ro in his arms like an over-sized football. 

“Io,” Mom said, “You know how people use salt to preserve meat?”

I nodded, doodling on the margins of a crossword puzzle.

“If the meat spoils, do we blame the meat, or do we blame the salt?”

My pencil attempted the approximate shape of the Milky Way–its spiral beauty, its glittery arms. “The salt.”

“M-hmm.”

Dad came upright with Ro in his lap. “Go long!” he yelled to Cal. Dad rolled up the pajama shirt into a ball and threw it across the living room. Cal caught it and headed for the kitchen; Mede was hot on his tail. 

Half-full cups of water and a various other items still stood on the table. Bone broth boiled on the stove top, the blue flame pulsing in time with the stampede.

Dad rolled another shirt into a ball and called to Mede. He stopped and put his hands in the air, but just as Dad was throwing the second shirt, Ro tackled his arm and the shirt whacked three plastic cups and the open Morton salt cylinder. Salt and water flew through the air and onto the path the boys were pounding around the table. Mede scrambled up a chair, grabbed the dripping shirt-ball from the table, and kept running.

Dad glanced at Mom. She shook her head and kept on reading, a little smile creasing her beautiful, freckled face.

——————————————————————————————————-

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 5:14-16

The next morning, Dad was coming in from checking the cattle when I was setting the table. A halo of light surrounded him, the light caught in a cloud of fog in that moment when he was halfway in. His crazy red hair looked like fire. He shut the door with a shudder. “Thirty below,” he remarked.

“Can you feel it?” Mom asked.

He chuckled–kind of.

We used to live in a city that felt like the top of the world. The gold dome of a church caught the light and seemed to illuminate every building, every asphalt road every person walking here and there. Dad worked construction. He crossed a big bridge in the morning, drove past a large coffee company that made a whole block smell delicious, and hired men from the drop-in center to help him tar roofs and rip out sheet rock and a ton of other stuff. But a few months ago, a college friend called him and needed help. This friend managed a cattle ranch in Wyoming but needed to go home to New Zealand for a time because his father was dying. Could Dad help?

Mom and Dad talked about it. A lot. They had just payed off their student loans–their only debt. They had been thinking that maybe they could start saving toward buying a place out in the country. I remember one night after supper when they were talking about it, the last rays of pinkish/golden light vanishing from the living room where I was reading a magazine article about space travel.

“It’s interesting that Eli would call at just the time we were thinking about moving to the country,” Mom had said. “Maybe a factor worth paying attention to.”

Police and ambulance sirens blared, flying down the four lane road next to the trailer park we were living in.

“He can’t pay us much,” Dad said. “He said there will be plenty of beef in the freezer for us and a big tank of propane. We’d have the run of the cabin, but not much beside that.”

Mom had nodded, indicating that she understood.

They were quiet for a time, Dad working a toothpick in the corner of his mouth.

“Io, can you turn on the lights?” Mom had asked.

I nodded and ran my hand along the lamp base, not wanting to stop reading. I found the button and clicked it; light flooded my page, but Mom chuckled. “Io, care to share some of that light?”

I looked over at my parents, still strangely sitting in the shadows. I craned my beck to see what the deal was and laughed. The boys must have stuck Ro’s bushel basket toy holder on the lamp. I lifted it off and, just to be goofy, ran it over to the kitchen table and set that big floor lamp on the table by my dad. I wanted to say something funny/goofy/profound like ‘It should give light to everyone in the house, huh?’ or ‘Is this good sharing, Mom?’, but Dad’s eyes were distant. It wasn’t the right time for a joke.

“I think we should do this,” he said. 

The lamp wobbled in my hand.

He had nodded and took the toothpick out of his mouth. “I’ll turn in my notice tomorrow.”

BANG!

The base of the lamp hit the floor and I just stood frozen, watching the upper part lamp falling . . . falling . . . toward the floor.

SLAP!

Dad caught it just in time. “You okay, Io?” he asked as he righted it.

I suppose he was asking if the lamp hurt me, but I just smiled and took off down the hall toward the little bedroom I shared with the boys, yelling, “GUESS WHAT?!?!”

And so we sold our little trailer house and lifted off to a far-away, snowy realm– an area that could justifiably be described as “space.”

I have hidden Your Word in my heart that I might not sin against you. Psalm 119:11

I’ve been reading “Lies Young Women believe by Nancy Leigh DeMoss and Dannah Gresh. This book has been extremely helpful to me. It has caused me to recall times in my life when I have looked up verses to help me counter the lies of Satan coming my way. I am wondering if it would be good for me to schedule a time twice a year to analize what I’m struggling with and purposefully look up verses to help with that struggle. It has also challenged me to find ways to pack away more Scripture in my heart.

When I began this blog, I had in mind to create an emotional safe place for readers–a house on a road called Country Girl Drive. I hoped the reader would see herself as the Country Girl and learn spiritual truths by encountering various items in the house and on the farm. I was soon to learn an encouraging fact.

My son came home from his first week of school and told me that in the Middle Ages people had incredible memories. The average Joe, called into court, could remember the year and other facts about important local happenings. People could do this because they used a memory technique in which they created a picture in their heads of a house and any time they wanted to remember something, they would “place” a new object in the house. Some people had a great capacity for remembering; it was said that they had whole cathedrals full of objects. I believe this could be a very fun technique for learning God’s Word. Phil the hat rack in my post “Time to Accessorize” utilized this technique.

The ice castle story in “A Different Day on Country Girl Drive” used a progressive story as a technique for memorizing the beatitudes. The last two beatitudes were not a part of the story, but after memorizing the others, adding two didn’t seem too hard. These techniques may not work for everyone, but I think they are worth having some fun with. Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be playing with these techniques in an attempt to help memorize more of the Sermon on the Mount found in Matthew 5, 6, and 7.

Are you in?

Harvest is over. The first frost has made the prairie a glittering, other-worldly place. Country Girl’s Father encourages her to go for a walk in its wonder.

A tree row separates the home place from the meadow. As she manages the difficult overgrowth, she stumbles, falls, and strikes her head. When she comes to, she is surprised to find herself staring up at a little ice castle. She rights herself and kneels before the little doors. “Hmmm,” she says, sizing up the situation. “It looks like this kingdom belongs to the humble.” 

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

She crawls inside and is awestruck by the beauty and immensity she finds within the ice walls. The trees, their leaves still red and yellow, their limbs intertwined with elvish skill, are encased in ice and form an exquisite roof. Lovely as it is, though, it awakens some long-ago sadness and tears slip down her cheeks. She turns around to find a little fire pit where a bright little fire burns. Beside it, a large red and gold blanket. She wraps herself in the blanket and sits down before the fire.

Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.

When she’s feeling a little better, she hears another sound above the crackling of the fire–running water. She folds the blanket neatly and rises to inspect.

A rounded entry opens onto a courtyard. A steadfast boulder is seated there, laced with quartz. It needs not fight nor defend itself. All around it may be crying, vying, and prying, but she will remain cool-headed and queen-like and will thereby rule the land one day.

Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.

Country girl tips her hat politely and strides on. She walks past pretty little sculpted conifers where little birds chatter and flit between them. On the far side of the courtyard, a crystal pipe pours running water into a little stream that winds its way into another chamber. She stares into this clear stream, watching the bubbles float to the surface and pop. Her eyes adjust to the color and flow and soon she makes out some mysterious shapes. She plunges her hand into the icy waters and finds a glass bottle of milk and an earthen container of perfect plums. Her stomach growls–a problem soon mended.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be filled.

She is just puzzling over what to do with a bit of uneaten plum when two little swallows start crying frantically. She rushes to the sound and finds the little guys under a tree, their feet entangled in a piece of frayed tarpaulin. They spin helplessly on the earthen floor. With slow, gentle movements she picks them up and untangles them. She holds onto them just a moment longer while she reaches for the bit of plum she dropped. That’s when she sees the scorpion on her arm. In her fright, she drops the birds. But before she can think of what to do, the problem is solved! One of the swallows hops onto her arm and makes off with the scorpion.

Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy. 

That’s when Country Girl actually comes to. The lovely dream has ended. Country Girl grabs a little rock from under her head and laughs when she sees that it is laced with quartz. “Oh, I see how you will take over, little queen: you will knock us all out!” 

As she gets up, a gentle snow, pure and white, begins to fall. She looks up to the heavens. “Thank you for the dream, God. I see You at work.”

Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God.

Building fences and maintaining fences are part of a country girl’s life. With her Father’s help she can wisely keep the farm in order. He can help her pound the t-posts in and roll out the barbed wire. As they walk along, perhaps they listen to the meadowlark and talk about all those important lessons that go along with the business of broken fences–“forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you . . . “

Fence work is hard. Actually, dealing with conflicts the way Christ calls us to is humanly impossible. It is only by His power that we can hurt without hating. And it often takes His strength to help us seek forgiveness from someone else. Yes, a country girl is bound to knock down a few fences–like, say, when she’s learning how to drive–and she’s gotta make it right.

Here are some promises to encourage you in your fence work:

James 5:16 Confess your faults one to another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.

Malachi 4:2 “But unto you that fear my Name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in His wings; and (you) shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall.”

Now that’s something a country girl can understand!

Here is a poem which is my prayer for you today: 

Being of Light

Rhinoceros skin and a tender heart– an impossible combination. Equal parts love and determination. Dove deftness to change course when rightly rebuked. Grit to turn the other cheek  when slighted and misused. Strength to sense a sister in mourning and share her load, and yet the daring to die to self once more and rise again, borne on the Master’s healing wings–to fly to not from the world’s sufferings and be  that impossible being.

If you were a horse, would you best describe yourself as a

1. Shetland Pony–great with kids, the definition of fun
2. Friesian–a war horse, fearlessly riding into danger
3. Arabian–popular but stubborn
4. Quarter horse–gentle and sweet
5. Belgian–hard working and strong

Do you have a favorite kind of horse? When I was growing up, I had an orange bedroom. Near the orange carpeted floor the paint on the walls was a dark orange. The paint got lighter and lighter in color until it was nearly yellow at the ceiling. On one end of my basement bedroom there were two sets of orange doors with yellow knobs that led to the furnace room. On one of those doors I put a poster of an Arabian horse in a meadow surrounded by white trees.

Perfection.

Maybe you’re more of a Palamino person. Did you know that the word “Palamino” means little dove? What a funny name for a horse, huh? They received their name from a Spanish royal family, perhaps a family who wanted horses of tan or gold coloring. Also, did you know that there isn’t actually a Palamino breed? If you hear that a horse is a Palamino, that means that it has a tan or golden coloring; theoretically, it can be from any breed. The offspring of two Palaminos only has a 50% chance of being a Palamino itself.

The Bible is not silent on the topic of horses. God even compares His people to horses in the Bible.

Psalm 32:9 says, “Do not be like the horse or the mule which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.”

Hosea 11:4 says, “I led them with cords of kindness, with the bands of love, and I became as one who eases the yoke on their jaws, and I bent down to them and fed them.”

Zechariah 10:3 says, ” . . . He will make them like His majestic steed in battle.”

Song of Solomon 1:9 “To me, my love, you are like my (favorite) mare among the chariots of Pharaoh.”

I love these verses because they all tell us that God loves us and deals with us gently. Christ echoed this in Matthew 11:28-30 when He said, “Come to me, you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Which leads us to a Bible horse personality test. Which of these horse verses best describes you today?

Are you coming near God, drawn by His love and eating from His hand, or hanging back, feeling angry and acting sullen?

Are you His majestic steed, riding in a battle now, learning new maneuvers?

Do your ears hear Him calling you His favorite? Are you basking in His love?

Are you tired and in need of rest, maybe in need of having an oppressive load lifted?

Psalm 20:7 says that some people trust in chariots and horses, but that the right choice is to trust in God. I pray that as you go about your week, you will remember to trust God for all you need. He loves you and He’s looking out for you, like a gentle hostler cares for his favorite horse.

May you ride like the wind, friend. May you find the open spaces God has made for you to trot, canter, and gallop in!

Get your “outside voice” and get ready to shout! Today is all about harnessing the potential power of your bumply, slippery, at-times-unforgivable, completely indispensable tongue.

Imagine opening a kitchen drawer. You’re thinking it’s going to be a typical “junk drawer,” containing paper clips, a hammer, a phone charger, and a bunch of broken stuff. What you actually find is the ULTIMATE TOOL. It’s so cool, it glows! 

The tongue has a terrible reputation for being a troublemaker, but take a moment to consider all the good it can do. Could it be the ultimate tool?

Check out these verses:

” . . . the tongue of the wise brings healing.” Proverbs 12:18

“With patience a ruler may be persuaded and a soft word can break a bone.” Proverbs 25:15

So . . . the tongue can heal and persuade rulers. Hmmm . . . What about when Christ said, “‘Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to all creation . . .'” Mark 16:15 That takes some talking!

Or . . .

” . . . if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” Romans 10:9

Yep, talking.

“And they have conquered (Satan) by the blood of the Lamb (Christ) and the word of their testimony.” Revelation 12:11

Whoa! Sharing your testimony is sooooooooooooo important. But what does that mean? It’s just talking about what Christ has done, is doing, and will do for you. A lot of people LOVE to complain. What if you talk about what you are thankful for? Or what Christ is teaching you? There are so many awesome directions this can go.

Here is a poem I wrote for you. This concept is something I am praying about for you.

Much Needed A tool  for opening locked doors and mending what’s broken. Have you seen it?  Let us know. Please be outspoken.   A tool for building bridges and ending evil in the universe. Check your garage, your trunk, your purse. Oh wait. That tool– that wonderful tool– is housed inside your head. Is it alive or is it dead? Is it fueled by a heart pure, humble, and sound? Or set fire by evil– proud, malicious, and loud? Letting Christ  train your tongue  is a matter of choice. Choose wisely. The most powerful tool  you own is your voice.

Don’t forget it, sister! May you be bold to speak when it’s your time!

Finding a Kevlar vest in her closet is one thing. When a Country Girl finds a secret passage to a whole armory–that’s a whole other thing.

Maybe you’ve heard that the sword of the Spirit is the Word of God. That’s the truth; you can find it in Ephesians 6:17. Ephesians 4:12 tells us that the Word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword. That’s serious. And when you look at how many verses are in the Bible!?! Whoa! That feels like a whole armory to me.

On previous occasions we have talked about how important it is to read and memorize the Bible. Today, we’re going to talk about actually carrying a Bible with you.

I heard a college basketball coach speak a couple months ago–Coach Bostwick from Oklahoma Wesleyan University (SpiritLedCoach.com). There came a point in his life when he felt like he should always carry a Bible with him when he coached basketball games. Why did God ask him to do that? I’m not sure, but I do know that carrying a Bible sends a powerful message to people. We’ve hung out with Coach Bostwick enough to know that he does things differently than a lot of coaches, employing a coaching approach that is “love motivated, which is full of discipline, but focuses on removing fear.” That’s really different and I think carrying a Bible at games maybe helps other teams and fans understand why things are different.

When I was in 7th grade, I got a cheap paperback Bible I could just keep at school. I bought it for $5. Sometimes it was on the top shelf of my locker. Sometimes it was in the stack of stuff I was taking to class. 

I used it all through high school. (Still own it.) Best five bucks I ever spent, probably. In middle school I don’t remember it leading to any grand discussions; mostly classmates just snagged it off my desk and made their friends swear on it. (Not cool.) But in high school it caused people to ask me questions. What was Babylon? Where is that verse about knowing the truth and it setting you free? 

Maybe some of you have a Smartphone and you’ve got a Bible app. That’s cool, but I would encourage you to get a Bible that you can carry with you. Be bold. Send a powerful message about Who you are aligning your life with. 

Awhile back I was sitting in the car with the windows rolled down and the woman in the car next to me saw and asked me to read her a few verses from where I was already reading. Talk about cool! A Bible can open up some pretty cool doors. Some of them may be painful, but I have found the experience to be really positive.

My prayer for you is from 2 Timothy 2:15. I pray that the Holy Spirit will guide you as you study the Bible, that you will be able to handle God’s word in such a way that the lost are found, the wounded are healed, and the hungry are fed. 

Are you excited? Good things are ahead! Have fun!