“Happy birthday, Jesus. But Lord, as the song says, ‘I have no gift to bring, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum.’”
There’s no greater gift to give or receive than the message of Truth wrapped in Love. The babe born in a stable, laid in a manger, who later lay down His life to save us as the perfect sacrificial Lamb of God. Jesus. King of kings, God incarnate—the most priceless gift offers Himself, new life and eternal life, free to all. He is the Prince of Peace and His peace is not contingent on circumstance. Jesus binds up the broken-hearted. He gives help to the helpless, hope to the hopeless. He is the Good Shepherd and the Way home for wayward. Come, let us adore Him.
“God, please don’t take Grandma from me yet,” I frequently prayed. Though I’d moved to the USA and Grandma remained in Jamaica, the world felt a little less scary and lonely because she was in it. “But when you take her home, Lord, I promise I’ll give her eulogy and tell those in attendance about her and how she pointed me to You.”
One day God whispered to my heart, “It’s time to let her go.”
Feast on a banquet of truth from one who greets life’s challenges with grit & grace. Michael Duncan: author, pastor, master of the one-line sermon returns as my guest interviewee. Undeterred by threats, he shares wit, wisdom, and some wild stories including the unlikely setting in which Jesus saved him.
Delay. Sometimes it’s divinely ordained, but most times it’s due to our negligence or obstinance. There are sins of commission (those we do) and sins of omission (when we fail to do as we ought).
Some delays are unconscionable. A heinous example of this is the slow enactment and delivery of the Emancipation Proclamation message that declared freedom for slaves in America.
I hate being hurried but struggle to be still. “The Sabbath feels more like a day of stress than a day of rest,” I’ve said. “How do you cease from work, as God says in His Word, when you’re a woman, especially when you have young children? Where is the rest in the rush to ready your little ones to get to church, then home to feed the family, clean up, and barely make it back in time for evening service?”
I needed to return and see if it was true. My sudden departure and extended absence left me longing for closure. I hadn’t said goodbye to my childhood home in Jamaica. Up the winding mountain route with its lush tropical vistas, past the vendors of fruit and roadside roasted corn. Over Flat Bridge edged with inches-high stone hemispheres and hung just over the troubled Rio Cobre River. In heavy rains, the waters cover the bridge, but not on this day. Through the cool shade of the bamboo arched Fern Gully roadway to Windsong, Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Ocho Rios, where I grew up. I prayed the new owners would let me on the grounds and was grateful when they welcomed me.
I’m doubly blessed this week and pray you will be too. Blessed to share my salvation story titled “Three Men, Jesus, and Me” featured on the Heart of Flesh Literary Journal site.
2025 Selah Winner Essays Online | Three Men, Jesus, and Me by Rachael M Colby
“Heart of Flesh is a semiannual, online and print literary journal that seeks quality writing and art with Christian themes.” Owner, author, and editor Veronica McDonald publishes poetry, fiction, nonfiction, photography, and art, and features Christian salvation testimonies online throughout April and October..
Blessed to offer encouragement with my article “The Power of One In a Writer’s Life” on The Write Conversation.
The Write Conversation blog is a ministry of Edie Melson, author, editor, writing instructor, and director of the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference. The Write Conversation hosts encouragement and instruction for writers on the craft and in their faith from a variety of contributing authors including Edie’s frequent offerings.
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Resources to encourage for #PastorAprpreciationMonth
In the year of our meager manger, a snowman made of sand, a lone shepherd, and two sheep showed up for the annual frenzied day-of-decoration at our home.—Sans Mary, Joseph, Jesus, or anyone else.
What an adventure, an education, and blessing to converse with the lively and jovial Rabbi Henry Morse of the Sha’ar Hashamayim Messianic Congregation in Stoughton, Massachusetts. I first encountered the Rabbi as he led his merry band of people down the hill after the If My People prayer event at the National Monument to the Forefathers in Plymouth, Massachusetts in 2021.
Darkness enveloped me. A chill gripped my chest, hope ebbed, and weariness set in. Obviously, I’d taken a turn off the favored road. I’d trudged the circuitous miserable miles to nowhere only to wind up stuck, deep in the mire, when someone called out to me.
“Hey, do you want help? Do you desire to be free?” the voice said.
Tattoo It On Your Heart 