Tuesday, August 13, 2019

When you don't see a harvest

Once more, we tried to have a garden this year.

Neither Jerry nor I are in possession of what some call a green thumb.

He doesn’t care.

I do. I want a green thumb. I plant. I water. I go back year after year and try. It’s in my blood. My parents, grandparents and other ancestors could grow things. I should be able to do it. But alas, year after year I face disaster--drought, worms, critters, soil  so hard it takes a jack hammer to break up.

This year, I told myself, was going to be different. We’d go small―just an 8 x 8 raised bed. We’d be really focused and that was sure to bring a return. We bought the landscape timbers and soil. Who knew dirt could be so expensive? Jerry, God bless him, built the bed. After the soil was mixed, we sank squash, cucumbers, tomatoes, okra, and a few zinnias into the ground. Trying to be proactive because I knew we had rabbits, as the plants began to grow, I covered them in netting. And I watered. When temps hit the nineties in late May, I had a very inflated water bill to show for it.

Then I noticed just as the plants bloomed, the blossoms disappeared. I bought poles and more net, and made a fence all around the bed. But three things told me I had a bigger problem than rabbits. The net fence was pushed over, the tomatoes were chomped, and Lucy was going crazy barking in the middle of the night, which she never does. Jerry got up to check on her one night, let her out in the back yard, and she chased a four point buck back there who  jumped the wooden fence around our yard like it was nothing.

We have harvested a few tomatoes, one zucchini squash, and about six yellow ones. All for the low, low price of $350.


All this reminds me of a few ministry experiences we’ve had. We planted, we watered, we tended, and after a very expensive and lengthy investment, the return was not what we hoped. So frustrating.

I guess we think if we follow the plan, do what we’re supposed to do, there’s going to be a guaranteed return. There’s not.

The return is up to God.

As my husband is fond of saying, “We’re in sales, not in management.”

We have to remember, people have choices, and also, whenever we’re investing in the kingdom, the enemy is going to wage war against that work. He will target the Achilles heel and is relentless in his onslaught. Even though we may engage in spiritual warfare through prayer, sometimes there will still be disappointments.

But here’s the thing. We cannot give up hope. We have to keep planting, and tending, and watering. Because who knows what one of those seeds might turn out to be. A dry good salesman once agreed to teach a Sunday school class of teenage boys. Burdened for one of his students, he went to visit him at his place of work where he sold shoes. There in the back of a shoe store, the young D. L. Moody gave his life to Christ. It is said D. L. Moody was used by God to win more than a million souls to Christ.

But the story goes on. Here’s how one writer put it, “Through his ministry, Moody was responsible for a London pastor named F. B. Meyer coming to faith. Meyer was responsible for J. Wilbur Chapman coming to faith, and Chapman influenced Billy Sunday, another prominent evangelist of the 20th century. Billy Sunday was integral in a man named Mordecai Ham coming to faith. And Mordecai Ham was the preacher responsible for leading . . . Billy Graham to Christ.”

You may right now be planting a seed, which could turn out to be a D.L. Moody. So don’t give up, friend. Do your part and leave the results to God. Only He knows what they will be.

As for me, I’ve already started thinking about next year and how I’m going to deal with my gardening issues. I will not be defeated.

Is it wrong to hope someone else in the neighborhood gets the gardening bug, too, and maybe gives the wildlife another feeding area?


Tuesday, August 6, 2019

In the wake of El Paso and Dayton


My phone buzzed Saturday night, as did many of yours. I picked it up and read the news. My heart sank and that all too familiar sick feeling started in my stomach like seasickness as waves crash hard. I hated to tell Jerry, but I did. 

“Another shooting,” I said. “In El Paso. Looks like many casualties.”

Of course, in only hours the tragedy in Dayton unfolded. For a flickering moment, the fight or flight kicks in.  What to do, where to go in the wake of these events?

Beth Moore, a Bible teacher I respect so much, has been taking a bit of a Twitter break. Sometimes our souls need a rest from the fray. But I knew she would weigh in on this. I was right.

She tweeted yesterday morning, “It is in this evil world we must stand strong. It is in this madness we must think soundly. It’s amid these dangers our hearts must neither melt nor harden. It’s here and now we who follow Jesus must be brave and bold in love and truth, defending the defenseless and not the indefensible.”

Her words “neither melt nor harden” bore into me. That’s it, isn’t it? The horror of it all threatens to either melt us or harden us, but neither of those is an option. Somehow, we must find a way to live in these times without growing callous to atrocities or be destroyed by them. The only way to do that is by clinging to Jesus and His word.

The Psalmist realized it when he wrote, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging “( Psalm 46:1 -3).

He is our refuge. He is our strength. In the wake of any tragedy.  

This week Christianity Today published a piece by Taylor Schumann, a shooting survivor. She offers powerful advice on how to pray for those affected by these tragedies HERE.
Not melting.

Not becoming hard.

Joining with you in prayer, friends.


Tuesday, July 30, 2019

If you're wondering if the prayers matter and what we found in the sawdust

Jerry recently spent a week preaching at another campmeeting and witnessed a wonderful work of God while there. I visited for a day and was reminded of a story from when our kids were little. I’m hoping some mom who has prayed long will find encouragement from it.

I found the sawdust trail alive and well in a campmeeting in North Georgia when my husband was asked to preach there when our kids were little. Begun in the mid-nineteenth century, it was virtually unchanged from that time with the exception of a few modern kitchen appliances in the tents (small cottages) and electric lights. I was made aware by family members that my father, grandmother, and great-grandmother attended this campmeeting as children. For this reason, as we began our experience, I felt I was claiming something that was mine in some way.

The second year there, we were especially excited. We knew what a wonderful time we had the year before spending a week sleeping between little stalls in wooden tents where you could see through the cracks in the planks. Maybe that doesn’t sound like fun, but it was. My nine-year-old son came especially equipped for major water gun battles but the second night of camp he came home angry. 

Into this Eden had crept a snake. He had an altercation with two fellows a little older than him, which involved name-calling and physical pain. My son was home schooled so in some ways he hadn’t experienced this level of rejection before.

Jerry told him sometimes God allows our feelings to be hurt so we’ll pray for the other person. Still, my son’s plans seemed to be smashed because of this incident and he was destined to days of moping around the tent and playing alone.
But God was at work.

 Wednesday night those same two boys who acted out earlier made their way to the altar after an invitation for salvation. My son was sitting beside me and when he saw them at the altar, he looked up at me with great sincerity and said, “Mama, I prayed they would get saved.” A tear rolled down my cheek as my husband made the invitation for those who would rededicate their lives to Christ, and my son joined the others at the altar. 

The next days were filled with such joy, as these young fellows became frequent visitors at our tent. It was wonderful to see the change God wrought in my own son, as well.
The night we returned home, I had a dream in which I saw my father’s mother, and she was in a kitchen preparing food. In the dream, I looked at my children who were standing beside me and said, “See your great-grandmother has prepared this wonderful meal for you.”

My devotional reading for the next morning just happened to be, “one generation will commend you works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts.” Psalm 145:4
I sensed God saying through the dream and the scripture that in the sawdust of that campmeeting my children discovered a treasure, a treasure left there through the prayers of a great- grandmother they had never known. I sensed God’s wonderful work as I realized she prepared spiritual food for my children through her prayers, which have nourished their souls and my soul, that indeed one generation was commending the mighty acts of God to the next generation. 

Many of you women who are mothers have long prayed for your children and grandchildren. There may be those of you who are wondering if God is hearing because of the circumstances your precious loved ones are in. I pray God would give you a new perspective and in the middle of those difficult situations you would hear God speaking in a fresh way―that you would experience a peace that passes all understanding as you give those situations over to him. In ways we can’t imagine God is bringing about the answers to our prayers not only in this generation but also in the ones to come. 

Could I offer this prayer? Dear Lord, we thank you for your watchful eye over our loved ones, that because you “neither slumber or sleep” we can rest knowing the ones we care for are in your hands. I pray for that wayward child or grandchild that you would bring a harvest in their lives from the seeds sown into their souls by praying mothers, and grandmothers. We remember from your word, “Those that go out weeping carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them" (Psalm 126:6). In Jesus name. Amen.

May we all leave a legacy of prayer that will stand through any earthly circumstance. I pray those who follow us would indeed find themselves standing in a Godly heritage because of mothers who prayed.

Available HERE.

Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Holding on to hope

Something remarkable happened in the last few days.

I was in a ministry situation that appeared would be a big disappointment. But as God calls us to be faithful, those of us in that circumstance pressed forward and continued with what we came to do.

Things began happening. Amazing things. Marvelous things.

I left with such a strong sense of God’s saving power and presence.

It reminded me of this story Terry Tekyl tells in his book, Most Wanted. “I held a New Year’s Eve service in my small country church. . . my first pastorate. With a steady drizzle falling and temperatures hovering just above the freezing mark. . . it was a night to stay home. My wife, my three kids, my sister-in-law, and I were the only ones in the tiny chapel. I decided to give a short message anyway, however, and when I was finished, my sister-in-law came to the altar. She said she wanted to give her life to Jesus to start the new year off right.”

The scripture that precedes Tekyl’s story is this, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1).

When we pray long and see no results, when we labor day after day, year after year, and the fruit appears nil, when we face closed door after closed door, that is the time to be diligent in what God has called us to do. Because in our acting and hoping, we express our faith.

I believe the events of the past days will help me reframe future circumstances. In a bleak situation, instead of thinking, “Oh, no. This is going to be awful.” I can now think, “Oh, wow, I wonder what God is going to do.” As the prophet Isaiah wrote, He wants to gives us “beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.”

So friend, if you’re where I was, scanning the situation and wondering--press on and be encouraged. Who knows what the Lord may do in His perfect time?

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

When they're far away and what she said

My sister handed me an envelope. “Patsy gave these to me. She found them while going through old photographs.”

Our friend Patsy’s mom and ours were friends and coworkers when young. I opened the envelope and found a picture of my mom I’d never seen, which had to have been taken during the mid 1940’s judging from her age.

Interesting that after more than seventy years, the picture came to me at this particular time.

Here's why. Someone I love is working in London for a month. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime with all expenses paid. Such a blessing!

Yet, may I admit in a very unsophisticated way that it’s a bit challenging when people I care for are on another continent.

My mother always liked to keep the people she loved close, too, so when Jerry and I announced we were embarking on a Wesley studies tour in England, she was none too happy. After a few days of wrestling with the idea, she called me. “I guess I’m going to have to trust God with you.”

What she said.

Yes, I guess I’m going to have to trust God for my traveler.

Why does it seem I’m surrounded by people with huge adventuresome spirits. My writer friend Darrell Huckaby has a daughter they nicknamed, “Danger.” I understand that. It could apply to many I know starting first with Jerry, that plane flying, quarterback sacking, swamp wading hunter- gatherer I married.

When this picture showed up of mom with her hand on her hip, it’s as if she were saying, “Uh, huh. Now, you know what I went through.” I had to laugh.

That trust thing, well, I’ve written about it so much.

I don’t imagine anybody I know will suddenly decide to hole up somewhere (and I don’t want them to), so I guess I’m going to keep writing about it and hopefully doing it.

At present, I am reading Max Lucado’s book, Anxious for Nothing. In it, he describes a practice he uses which I find helpful. “On my good days I begin my morning with a cup of coffee and a conversation with God. I look ahead into the day and make my requests . . . Then if a sense of stress surfaces during the day, I remind myself, Oh, I gave this challenge to God earlier today. He has already taken responsibility for the situation. I can be grateful, not fretful.”

Gratefulness, not fretfulness. Don’t you love it? That one practice has changed the way my days go. I pray in the morning, and then the rest of the day I rely on Him and give thanks.

I’m convinced God allows these situations where we’re totally out of control to occur so we’ll look to Him alone. If you’re facing one of those yourself, pray over your day, and then trust that He’s got it.

So, thanks, Patsy, you had no idea how meaningful those pictures would be.

Praying the words the Lord spoke to Joshua for those close to me, “. . . for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

When things don't turn out the way you hoped

Waiting for the edits for my new book A Plan for Everything to come in, and taking a bit of a break. I reached into the archives for this post with the hope that it helps someone who's dealing with disappointment today.

According to Mr. Webster, to disappoint means “to fail to satisfy the hope, desire, or expectation of.”

We speak of times of disappointment in sentences which begin with should have or could have.

I’ve found disappointment to be one of the most finely honed weapons in the enemy’s arsenal, because if we’re not watchful, disappointment can lead to a root of bitterness which can quickly establish itself in our lives. And bitterness is like a cancer, eating away all that’s good.

When disappointment leaves me protesting, “I didn’t know it was going to turn out like this,” I have to make a choice not to embrace toxic thoughts by electing to replace those thoughts with God’s word.

I keep coming back to this quote, “Can it be that, that which seems to oppose the will of God actually is used of Him to accomplish the will of God? That which seems evil only seems so because of perspective, the way the eyes see the shadows. Above the clouds, light never stops shining.” —Ann Voskamp

Often, faith only begins to flex its muscles in times when the darkness settles in around us. Faith is “our handle on what we can’t see” (Hebrews 11:5 The Message).

Even in times of great disappointment, through faith, we can fix our eyes on Jesus. Whatever situation left our hopes, desires, and expectations wanting, we trust will be used by Him for our good and His glory.

“…those who hope in me will not be disappointed” (Isaiah 49:23).

“We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!” (Romans 5:3-5 The Message).

“And hope does not disappoint us…” (Romans 5:5).
(edited repost)

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Fireworks, Fear, and Faith

We attended a Fourth of July celebration in an Atlanta neighborhood where our daughter was working for the evening. What we didn’t know is our seats were just yards away from where the fireworks would be set off. We had Lucy with us.

The Aussiedor had never shown any reaction to fireworks before, but again, we’d didn’t realize we were so close.

When the pyrotechnics began, Lucy went into panic mode and shot out pulling Jerry over in his chair then proceeded to clear a path in her wake. I ran through the crowd fearing we might never find her in an unfamiliar place like this if she became lost. Thankfully, a man seeing my situation stepped on her leash as she passed and stopped her.  By then, Jerry had caught up with us, and we couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Since then, fireworks really get Lucy going and around the Fourth, we have lots of fireworks in our town.
For the past few nights, the Big Guy (Jerry) sleeps with her beside him. She likes that. A lot.

It reminds me of Mason, the son of friends.  As a child, he had a hard time staying in his own bed and getting to sleep at night because of his fears.  One night, his dad put him back in his bed again and reminded him as he had many times before that God was with him.

The little fellow said, “I know, but I want somebody with skin on them.”

Don’t we all?

Don’t we just crave the presence of God in skin? Someone we can touch, hold, and lean against.

I know I do.

But then there’s this thing called faith, the “evidence of things not seen,” wrote a man who dealt with fears of his own.  The apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians he was with them “. . . in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling” (I Corinthians 2:3).

But God told Paul in a vision one night, “Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent. For I am with you, and no one is going to attack and harm you, because I have many people in this city” (Acts 18:9-10).

Whatever God calls us to do, he will equip us for it. We don’t have to be afraid. I’ve repeated those words to myself as I’ve stood before the locked doors of a prison gate before being admitted to do ministry there, as a plane touched down in a faraway place on a mission trip, or as I’ve struggled for the words when praying for a seemingly impossible situation.

Yes, like Mason, we want someone with skin on them, and like Lucy, we want to climb up beside the Big Guy and feel him next to us.

But Jesus, God with skin on Him, told us around eighteen times in the New Testament not to fear. In all, “Fear Not,” appears 365 times in the Bible.

God calls us to walk by faith, not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:70.)

Today, that little boy, Mason, is a pastor, so I believe he’s latched onto that walking by faith thing.

May we all.

Praying with you, friends that God would give us all we need to do just that.

Meanwhile, for what it’s worth, Lucy will be wearing her thunder vest for a few days. It works a little, anyway.

I found a printable with all the “Fear Not” references on it HERE.
edited repost

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

When you're trying to do one of the most difficult things

Today, Anaiah Press author, Laurie Wood guest posts with a powerful piece on forgiveness. A Canadian author, she's written  about a polar bear scientist in her fascinating book, Northern Deception. Welcome to One Ringing Bell, Laurie.

“Forgiveness does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.” Lewis B. Smedes - Theologian

Forgiving those who’ve hurt us is one of the most difficult commandments Jesus gave to us. It’s so difficult to forgive people. I’m willing to bet most of us gloss over it during that part of the church service when the pastor or priest calls us to remember our time of confession. And yet, in Matthew 6:14-15, Jesus told us: “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sin.”

Jesus is being black and white here. There’s no wiggle room! So, how can we deal with those things that seem unforgiveable?

As a young adult, circumstances surrounding my parent’s divorce caught me by surprise and I found myself dealing with unforgiveness.

Many Christian friends harped at me–yes, I felt “harped” the right word choice–to forgive. And to do it instantly.

I remember some days were so hard--an extremely emotional situation.

My response was to throw myself into my Bible and do a word study on “forgiveness” in both the Old and New Testaments. I determined that I would seek out commentaries and concordances until I absorbed what the word meant and could use it to help heal my heart.

First, I learned forgiveness is a process. While Matthew makes it a commandment, Jesus knows how hard it is, and He knows we’re human and aren’t always going to do it instantly.

Psalm 130 says: “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.”

The first part of the forgiveness process is to give the situation to the Lord. Tell him about your hurt, your suffering, your inability to forgive on your own. Pray about it or journal it out and leave it on the page. This will get it out of your mind and “out of your system,” as a wise friend of mine told me at the time I was going through my parent’s divorce.

The second part of the process is seeing if you can repair the situation with the person who’s hurt you. This may not always be possible, especially if the situation involves abuse of any kind. But see if you can meet with the other person to talk through what’s brought you to this hurtful situation. You will know quickly if the relationship can be repaired.

The third part is the realization that the other person may not care about your feelings or the harm done to you at all. And you may have to live with that knowledge and the consequences of the other person’s actions on you. If you need to get outside help to deal with that, please do! There’s no shame in it. God works through other people to heal our hearts and minds.

Finally, realize that you may never, ever, hear an apology for the wrong done to you. The healing part of the process is that when you forgive someone–the burden of how they’ve hurt you will be lifted from your shoulders. They may carry on as they are, and they may carry on without you in their lives, but YOU will be the stronger person for it.

In Northern Deception, Kira Summers has an enormous amount of forgiving to do–both of herself and for someone else who’s done something terrible to her. She runs away from her situation both physically and emotionally and misses out on years of what God had planned for her.
Northern Deception available at Amazon

Reunions can be deadly.
After a savage attack in university, Kira Summers fled to the safety of northern Canada and her work as a polar bear scientist. But when her whistleblower brother dies in a mysterious car crash, she must return home to bury him and pack his belongings. Unaware she’s carrying explosive evidence someone’s willing to kill for, she has no choice but to rely on the one person she never thought she’d see again.
Lukas Tanner, a widowed single father of a special needs toddler, moved to Churchill five years ago. As the proud owner of Guiding Star Enterprises, a wilderness tour company, he and his daughter lead a simple life. But when Kira comes crashing back into his world, he realizes God has other plans. Now, Lukas and Kira must confront a merciless killer as their past and present collide in a deadly race—a race they must win if they have any hope of a future together.

Laurie Wood is a military wife who’s lived across Canada and visited six of its ten provinces. She and her husband have raised two wonderful children with Down Syndrome to adulthood, and their son and daughter are a wonderful blessing to their lives. Over the years, Laurie’s books have finaled in prestigious contests such as the Daphne du Maurier (twice), the TARA, the Jasmine, and the Genesis. Her family lives in central Canada with a menagerie of rescue dogs and cats. If the house were bigger, no doubt they’d have more.

Tuesday, June 18, 2019

When you don't know what to do next

Sometimes the path seems fuzzy.

We long for definite direction—a message in a dove’s beak or . . .
A few days ago in Streams in the Desert, I read an excerpt from F.B. Meyer, “Beloved, whenever you are doubtful as to your course, submit your judgment absolutely to the Spirit of God, and ask him to shut against you every door but the right one… In the meanwhile, continue along the path, which you have been already treading. Abide in the calling in which you are called, unless you are clearly told to do something else.”

Oswald Chambers says, “Do the next thing.”

So, we continue even if the road narrows to a barely discernible trail in a dense wood. We take the next step in the light we have.

It’s good to know that even if our way at times feels like a dead end road to nowhere, across it falls the shadow of two cross members.

Early in last century, Jessie Pounds wrote these lyrics:

I must needs go home by the way of the cross,
There’s no other way but this . . .
The way of the cross leads home.

Jesus goes before us, and his way leads home.

Consoling words for confusing times.

“Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him… “(Psalm 37:5).

(edited repost)

Consider visiting the Beverly Varnado Amazon Author page HERE where all my books are available in print and ebook format. My blog is also linked to this page.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

A Father's Gift

The childhood of this little boy born months before the event we historically see as the beginning of the Great Depression bridged some of the darkest years our nation has ever known. His mother gave birth to seven children before his arrival, and buried four of them at various ages. The son of a sharecropper, his meals often consisted of a biscuit for breakfast, a biscuit for lunch and supper (as Southerners have called the evening meal) would be whatever the family’s farming provided.

He attended a schoolhouse with several grades in one room and pulled close to a pot-bellied stove to keep warm in the winter. 

Just out of high school, he imagined his life would be spent working in the local textile mill, but circumstances led to his joining the Air Force during the Korean Conflict. Later offered officer’s training, he declined because he was home sick.

On his homecoming, he learned about the GI Bill. It’d be hard with a family to support, but for years he worked full time at the textile mill and went to college.

I’d be there to stand with my dad as we had our picture made just after he received his college diploma. I was four, and it is one of my few early memories, but I recall a sunny day and the green grassy slopes surrounding the community college nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

My dad eventually became a banker and provided the financial resources for both my sister and me to attend college. In his seventies, he ran for county commissioner, won, and served his community for several years. He never became well known beyond that community, but I am grateful for the sacrifices he made for us, his desire to serve, and the example of perseverance in the midst of hardship he established. He is definitely a hero in our hearts.

A Sunday school teacher for dozens of years, he has now gone on to be with the Lord. In his later years, sometimes the memories grew as faded as the photographs, but on a birthday a few years before his death, I discovered precious ones remained, as my dad passed another lesson on to me.

I knew it would be an uneventful birthday, because I was out of state with Jerry while he was having radiation treatment when he had prostate cancer. We’d already planned to celebrate as a family when we returned, so, Jerry and I tried to make the best of an odd sort of Sunday. After an early church service, as we sat down for lunch, I noticed a cell phone message from my dad. I pressed play:

“Beverly, it’s ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. So many years ago, you were born on a Sunday morning about six-thirty. And I called to wish you a Happy Birthday, today.”

As the tears rolled, I pressed play again and let Jerry listen.

“How many Dads remember what day of the week their children are born on?” Jerry asked.

“I’d almost forgotten I was born on a Sunday.” The only reason I ever remember at all is the little poem about birthdays. I liked my day. “Sunday’s child is full of grace…”

How many Dads would remember? I don’t know, but mine did. He remembered a Sunday morning baby just waking to the world. He remembered she weighed ten pounds, eight ounces, and that she dwarfed all the other babies in the nursery. He remembered and it made my birthday so many years later a special one.

I made a note to remember for my own children’s sake—to tell them the stories that have shaped their lives. The details matter.

My dad’s caring gave me a greater understanding of my Heavenly Father, “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you” (Psalm 139:17-18).

God remembers and unlike our finite earthly fathers, he is always thinking of us. Nonstop. For those like me who are without Fathers because of death or some other reason, that is good news.

No matter the circumstances concerning your earthly father, remember God the Father has his eye on you.

May your Father’s Day be blessed.
edited repost 


“As a Ford model during the 1980’s, the New York fashion world was my world. Beverly’s encouraging stories of how God moved in that sphere help us realize that no matter where we are— even on Seventh Avenue--God wants to use us for His glory.” Nancy Stafford Actress (“Matlock”), Speaker, and Author
Faith in the Fashion District by Beverly Varnado
A key can open more than a door. 
The Key to Everything by Beverly Varnado. In print and ebook.



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