How Would You Introduce Jesus?

Reading Sista Laurel's post "<a href="http://www.sistasinzion.com/2011/07/first-fish-fry.html">The First Fish Fry</a>" made me think of this video. Comedian Steve Harvey, was invited to provide some comic relief a few years ago at MegaFest (A Christian conference.) At the end of his comedy routine he bears his testimony and thanks God and his Savior for all of his success. He says that throughout his career he has been blessed to have had the opportunity to introduce some of the biggest names in show business, and then tells how, if given the chance, he would introduce Jesus.<br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ix3MHV_RfeM?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />This has changed the way I look at testimony meeting. What about ya'll Brothas and Sistas? If given the chance to introduce Jesus, how would you introduce him? <a href="http://newsroom.lds.org/article/fast-sunday">Fast and Testimony</a> meeting is fast approaching will you be introducing him this month or next?<br /><br />God Is Love,<br />Sista Beehive

How Would You Introduce Jesus?

Reading Sista Laurel's post " The First Fish Fry " made me think of this video. Comedian Steve Harvey, was invited to provide ...

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The First Fish Fry

<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAzKju-tl-5ULwMyV6KdBvtAs8m359pwnP4tZkHmu8wwHwQ111RWljLkH7RQhwAbq09bnbmEEpeUpX9UeqxB56pLzZv_lUCX3sfYjkRXCdijEA4YAUBbkcz9ytzuazEe9kHyGFoZ-V8A/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAzKju-tl-5ULwMyV6KdBvtAs8m359pwnP4tZkHmu8wwHwQ111RWljLkH7RQhwAbq09bnbmEEpeUpX9UeqxB56pLzZv_lUCX3sfYjkRXCdijEA4YAUBbkcz9ytzuazEe9kHyGFoZ-V8A/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: black;"></span><span style="color: black;">When I was younger we often attended our Sunday services at the <a href="http://www.lds.org/">LDS</a> church and then went to church with my Granny, who was a member of a Baptist church. Although it made for a very long Sunday, I enjoyed attending church with my Granny. Even though she was not <a href="http://www.mormon.org/">Mormon</a>, Granny was always at our church because she attended whenever we asked her to. If there was a <a href="http://lds.org/pa/display/0,17884,4695-1,00.html">Primary</a> program she was there, if there was a baptism she was there, ward activity there, pretty much if we sneezed and we wanted her at church with us, she was there.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Of course Granny loved us, but I think much of her willingness to attend church with us was because my parents allowed her grandchildren to attend church with her also. My Granny is no longer with us and I cannot express how grateful I am for those extra long Sundays, they are precious memories that I cherish, memories centered on Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">There were special Sundays at Granny's church where they had a dinner after the service. A fish fry! (A cookout or other meal at which fried fish is the main course.)</span> On those Sundays we could clap our hands, stomp our feet, praise the Lord, and then get something to eat! On that Sunday you had better get there early if you wanted a seat, the Lord had a packed house that day. I would look around the chapel at all the people stuffed in the pews and think, "I hope the church ladies cooked enough, because I sure am hungry."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">The choir was always good at Granny's church, but on fish fry Sunday, they were exceptional. The Preacher was of course a little long winded. He probably figured he needed to hit the Lord's message home for those in the congregation that wouldn't be coming back until next year's fish fry. As soon as the preacher said Amen, everyone would make a mad dash for outside. I would stand there in line with my plate thinking "Oh, I hope I make it up there before all of Granny's greens are gone."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">When I finally reached the table, spread with a variety of wonderful foods, a church lady named something like Miss Mildred would take my plate and begin to serve me. Then I would have to tell her, "Miss Mildred, could I have the greens from that pot over there?" And she'd say, "They're all the same, greens are greens." And of course she knew that was lie, because we all knew about the pot of greens from the really nice church lady who couldn't cook, but always wanted to provide something. They kept it in the kitchen and everyone prayed that we didn't run out of greens and have to bring her pot out.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">"Please," I'd say, "My Granny made the ones in that pot." She'd act like she was miffed about it, but then she'd give me a scoop of them. "Just a little more please, Miss Mildred," I'd say, after I saw how tiny the scoop was. "Look here, we've got a lot of people to serve," she'd tell me. Then somebody would pass by, maybe the Preacher, and he'd say, "Come on now Sister Mildred, if <a href="http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?hideNav=1&locale=0&sourceId=e9ea0f9856c20110VgnVCM100000176f620a____&vgnextoid=e36d5f74db46c010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD">Jesus could feed 5000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish</a>, then I'm sure we'll be all right...give the baby a little more greens." Then Miss Mildred would smile at the Preacher, and give me a good size helping. After the Preacher had left she would look at me and say, "Alright now, you got plenty of greens, I better not see you up here asking for seconds."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">I'd take my plateful of food to the table my family was sitting at, and look around. Everyone was happy and smiling and everyone was fed, all those people and everyone got a plate. Then I would wonder if that was what it was like when Jesus feed the 5000. Maybe Jesus looked around and everyone was happy and smiling and well fed. As I would take a bite of that delicious, golden, crispy fish, and it melted in my mouth, I'd imagine that as good as this fish tasted, Jesus' must of been even more divine. Boy, I would have loved to have been at Jesus' fish fry!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Now that My Granny's gone, I don't see many fish fry Sundays, but I'm still well fed. You see, when you feast on the Savior's word, you are always full. Everyone can partake; there is plenty to go around at the Lord's table. It was an absolute miracle when Jesus fed 5000 with just 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish, and if we let him, he can feed us all too, the entire world. That's billions of people, oh what a fish fry that would be!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Peace and blessings,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Sista Laurel</span></div>

The First Fish Fry

When I was younger we often attended our Sunday services at the LDS church and then went to church with my Granny, who was a member of a Ba...

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Have I done any Good In His/Her World Today?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wWR-ek8A5sVBq9tmkgoYge6NWBcuTStAzqNSDS7rin-dBDdvP6yoNdkoCNhi5CeEV-zwvG8LMo0OvDBd0EQjT4QR_R6dRHPjD_eZ7OpGVDzjqob1O79M06rnfyFx5N36tAqWc2kHZgY/s1600/black-children-endangered-species.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wWR-ek8A5sVBq9tmkgoYge6NWBcuTStAzqNSDS7rin-dBDdvP6yoNdkoCNhi5CeEV-zwvG8LMo0OvDBd0EQjT4QR_R6dRHPjD_eZ7OpGVDzjqob1O79M06rnfyFx5N36tAqWc2kHZgY/s400/black-children-endangered-species.jpg" width="282" /></a>What did I do to help shape his/her world today? This is a question mothers and mother-figures often ask themselves. The discussion of motherhood seems to arouse strong emotions in us. We all come to the discussion with our own personal experience, yet one thing that we can all agree on is the relationship (or lack thereof) between a mother and a child is a vital part of helping to shape us. And how we see ourselves in the world.<br /><br />The relationship with our mother often establishes a pattern of future relationships.Which is why many of us will sit in church today silently battling the internal conflict of the “Good” mother. As Sista LaKeysha (a safe name for us because there isn’t a LaKeysha in our wards...currently) stands up today and shares how wonderful her mother was. You’ve heard it before:<br /><br />“I’m so grateful for my wonderful mother and the example she was to me growing up. Everyday when my 12 brothers and sisters and I came home from school, my mother had fresh baked cookies for us with a cup of freshly squeezed milk from our family cow Daisy. She got her Ph.D. from BYU in Early Childhood Education with a minor in Psychology, just so she could be of aide to her children when we needed her. I don’t know what I would have done without the love and support of my wonderful mother…"<br /><br />C'mon Sistas, sit up a little higher in those seats. Please stop beating yourselves up because you weren’t like Sista LaKeysha’s mother. The person we make our mothers out to be in our adult minds are often very different from the mother we had as young children, and that person is different from the mother we had in our pre-teen and teen years. The point is, we should no more beat ourselves up over Sista LaKeysha’s experience than we should over Sista Becky’s. Whose story we may have heard as well:<br /><br />“Hello, I’m Becky and I honestly don’t know why the Bishop asked me to speak today. Ummm, and I really don’t know why he asked me to speak right after Sista LaKeysha, because our lives couldn’t have been more different. Ummm, I really struggle with Mother's Day. I didn’t have the best mom growing up. My mother was emotionally and physically abusive. She had some addictions and we often went without because of her issues. She often left my two brothers and I in adverse situations that were beyond our control. If it weren’t for the mercy of strangers our lives may have turned out completely different. My number one goal was to be completely different then she was, and I am…!"<br /><br />Okay, that was a bit dramatic. However, just as you shouldn’t celebrate not being like Sista Becky’s mother, you shouldn’t beat yourself up for not being like Sista LaKeysha’s mother. As we start down the rocky path of motherhood most of us have no idea what is going to be asked of us in the process of parenting another one of God’s children. Even when we start that journey with the best of intentions, the entire process holds countless surprises. Some women can’t wait to be mothers and then realize too late they probably should have waited. Some women wait then realize they could have started earlier (we don’t know that person, but one of you might). The reality is being a mother offers up multiple opportunities for helping or hindering our children toward adulthood.<br /><br />As mothers we have many truths (not really, but we believe them to be true). When children behave inappropriately (in public), it’s the mother’s fault. When children are well behaved, it’s because they were brought up “right”. Because of the widespread tendency within our culture to blame the mother, it's common for those of us who have braved the rapid waves of mothering to live with haunting questions about what we did or did not do in shaping our children's lives. "Mother's guilt" is a common ailment, especially among LDS Women. Whether you have mild, infrequent discomfort or full anxiety attacks, very few women (even those who don’t have children) escape “Mother's guilt.”<br /><br />The truth is, motherhood (womanhood) is difficult. For some, the demands of both are met with ease; for others, the demands are simply too much. We are the bridge between generations. It is wise for us to try to remember and be merciful towards those who have and still stumble as they continue trying to establish a foundation on motherhood. Also, we should celebrate with our sistas who seemingly have it figured out as they soar beyond the limitations we may have set for ourselves.<br /><br />Today it is wise to remember the women who have influenced our lives with some justice (Lest we deceive ourselves, setting standards that would make even Mary the mother of Jesus feel inadequate), but mostly mercy. Because we are all simply doing the best we can with what we've been given. As our MoDea (Mormon Madea) says “When you know better, you do better.” Here is to wishing us all better days ahead.<br /><br />Happy Mothers Day,<br />Sista Beehive and Sista Laurel

Have I done any Good In His/Her World Today?

What did I do to help shape his/her world today? This is a question mothers and mother-figures often ask themselves. The discussion of mothe...

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A Different Kind of Saint

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtABfnTysTYgEtct74boFzAqNVgdZRXq-y8zXh-wSBo5OddaxtPT4OfEnFugL71VFf0rVNZEiOdXqVhZEmQV24fqo2jOfjTrh_14J6nXYL256jFzTXFsw5dztL_myhbr2O6I8lRnSCTcI/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtABfnTysTYgEtct74boFzAqNVgdZRXq-y8zXh-wSBo5OddaxtPT4OfEnFugL71VFf0rVNZEiOdXqVhZEmQV24fqo2jOfjTrh_14J6nXYL256jFzTXFsw5dztL_myhbr2O6I8lRnSCTcI/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Being a convert to the <a href="http://www.lds.org/">LDS</a> faith, I am very blessed to have had the opportunity to develop a love for His word. While I have a firm testimony in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I really enjoy going back to my family church, the Pentecostal church, to listen to the preachers and to allow the music to fill my soul and testify to my spirit. I love gospel music and one of my favorite artists is Ms. <a href="http://cecewinans.com/"><span style="color: purple;">CeCe Winans</span></a>. One of her songs <em>"Alabaster Box"</em> is a story that I think many of us can relate to:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><em>"The room grew still</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>As she made her way to Jesus</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>She stumbles through the tears that made her blind</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>She felt such pain</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Some spoke in anger</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Heard folks whisper</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>There's no place here for her kind</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Still on she came</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Through the shame that flushed her face</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Until at last, she knelt before his feet</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And though she spoke no words</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Everything she said was heard</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>As she poured her love for the Master</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>From her box of alabaster"</em></div><br />As a teenager I was given a beautiful cross necklace by one of my relatives. I had no idea that wearing it to the LDS church would create such a frenzy. The reaction that I received from other members especially the adults was very hurtful, and if I didn't have a steadfast testimony in the Gospel, I might have left the church. I couldn't understand why they continued to tell me "We don't wear crosses." Who was "we?" And why don't "we" wear crosses? Umm, when I got baptized that wasn't one of the things that the missionaries said we couldn't do.<br /><br />For those members who have a long family history in the Church, who come from what some members like to call “Pioneer stock” it must be difficult to deal with converts that march to the beat of their own drum. Yet, still manage to stay in rhythm with the rest of the saints. Does it really matter if some people take the Sacrament with their left hand?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><em>"And I've come to pour </em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>My praise on Him</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Like oil from Mary's alabaster box</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And I dry them with my hair</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>You weren't there the night He found me</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>You did not feel what I felt</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>When he wrapped his love all around me and</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>You don't know the cost of the oil</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>In my alabaster box"</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />We all at some point find ourselves searching for His image in our countenance. A few years ago, I was wandering through a store in an area with a predominantly white demographic, and noticed a picture of Jesus Christ. It was an image of Jesus portrayed as a black man. I grabbed the picture and found myself in the longest line ever. Being short on time I put the picture back with the intention of returning for it when I had more time. </div><br />When I returned I found that all of the copies of that particular image were gone. I inquired as to how I could order a copy of the image only to have the sales clerk disappear to the back room and return with a copy. I inquired about why the picture was in the back and was told that the image of Christ was offensive to some of the customers so they were told to pull it.<br /><br />It doesn’t shock me that white people tend to gravitate toward images of Christ that favor them, just as people of color may gravitate to the images of Him that look the most like them. We all want to feel that we were indeed created in His image.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><em>"I can't forget the way life used to be </em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And I spent my days </em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Poured my life without measure</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Into a little treasure box</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>I'd thought I'd found</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Until the day when Jesus came to me</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And healed my soul</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>With the wonder of His touch</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>So now I'm giving back to Him</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>All the praise He's worthy of</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>I've been forgiven </em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And that's why</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>I love Him so much"</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The message is: My relationship with the Savior is personal. The way I choose to worship and show gratitude for what the Savior has done for me may be different than what you were taught, but that doesn't place less value on me in the eyes of my Savior, does it? I'm really grateful that as a youth I was taught in a church that encouraged and pushed me to figure out for myself the type of relationship that I wanted to have with God, Jesus Christ and my earthly brothas and sistas. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm happy for the example of the <a href="http://eom.byu.edu/index.php/Following_the_Brethren">Brethren</a> and the way they LOVE people. All people. They seem to embrace the people and the cultures they come in contact with. I've even witnessed them singing and clapping along while they listen to a gospel song, Negro spiritual, or giving an Amen, and I often wonder...what is it that they know that the rest of us don't. </div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><em>"You don't know the cost of the oil in my Alabaster Box"</em></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/kfVwIARBZW8?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" width="425"></iframe><br /><br />Your Sista in the Gospel,<br />Sista Beehive

A Different Kind of Saint

Being a convert to the LDS faith, I am very blessed to have had the opportunity to develop a love for His word. While I have a firm testimo...

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Woe is Me

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPaU6QxL_kEuS9OWJDP92nkl3MZKW-7tilBftUG5Vn_G3l_U6U0doze-sQ8p9AdgoRVw1E7GZT6gM1iWC24AinDdMGuK1pxQfd9FTg3iiNReSa9-tERU5uCQgELMWYx54m_qI9mgsZj6s/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPaU6QxL_kEuS9OWJDP92nkl3MZKW-7tilBftUG5Vn_G3l_U6U0doze-sQ8p9AdgoRVw1E7GZT6gM1iWC24AinDdMGuK1pxQfd9FTg3iiNReSa9-tERU5uCQgELMWYx54m_qI9mgsZj6s/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Do you know Job? Have you ever been so consumed with your problems and personal concerns that it seemed there was no immediate relief in sight? Well, these past few months I have been going through some growing pains, which I have spent more time laboring over and stressed about then I care to admit. I'm usually a pretty faithful and positive person. However when I'm going through those dark alleys of life, I can get a little paranoid and crazy. I was feeling judged and misunderstood by people I trusted. Family relationships that I thought were secure were being altered due to exaggerated stories and some out right lies. I had almost reached that point of insanity where I begin asking myself if God had turned on me, I wondered if He was out to get me. I was feeling a little like Job. I know it's a bit of an exaggeration (yes, it must run in the family).<br /><br />No, I didn't have seven thousand sheep burned because fire fell from Heaven. The Chaldeans didn't fall upon my three thousand camels. I don't even know what a Sabean looks like, so they sure didn't touch my asses or my oxen. I can't even imagine nor do I want to think about losing my entire family in a tornado or anything else. Nevertheless I was feeling like I was experiencing one trial after another with no safe haven or form of protection. While I was traveling down this road of self pity, feeling sorry for myself, I did what most of us were taught to do, I searched the scriptures for answers.<br /><br />Why, why, why did I do that? Have you ever read Job? OMG'ness, Job had it all! He was referred to as a just and perfect man. He was blessed with great riches, and was respected by everyone in the community.<br />God loved Job, He trusted Job, He knew Job. Now this is where the story takes on a unique shape. All this was taking place during a time when the sons of God would go and present themselves to God our Heavenly Father; you know I was a little shocked to read that Satan was among them. Yep, when the sons of God presented themselves Satan (our brother) was among them. Side note: Satan had a personal relationship with God even after he got the boot!! The thought of this was so deep, I have a whole blog dedicated to the topic. To make a long story short, Satan was given the green light to tempt and to try Job. He could touch all that Job had, yet he wasn't to touch Job.<br /><br />Job was a man who faced some terrible and depressing situations. His children were killed. His servants were killed. His livestock destroyed. All of this happened in one day. A messenger went to Job to tell him that the Sabeans took away the oxen and asses and killed all of his servants except the one delivering the message. While the servant was delivering the message, another servant came, to tell Job, that all of his sheep were burned. While he was still speaking another servant came with a message that the Chaldeans took all of Jobs camel and had killed his servants. As if that weren't enough, Job received another message that must have been devastating. Job was informed that there had been a tornado and everyone was killed -- the servants, all of his children (7 sons and 3 daughters), there was one surviver - a servant the one delivering the message. Job's response to the events that had happened that day was:<br /><br />Job 1: 21: Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." With everything that Job endured, he blessed the name of the Lord.<br /><br />As for my situation ... Yes! I did feel "salty" and ungrateful among other things. Just when I was ready to stop feeling sorry for myself, I allowed Satan access. But that was then. I'm going through my own trauma, not as severe; nonetheless, no less traumatic. I'm entitled to my feelings! Right? If you said Amen to that, you need to run to the nearest priesthood leader, pastor, reverend, somebody, anybody (more righteous then you) and get a good long blessing.<br /><br />Some of us would think that would have been it. God won (of course) Satan lost, the end. However, Satan wasn't done with our brotha Job. Not wanting to admit he had lost, Satan again went with the sons of God to present himself (still I'm shocked). The Lord's response was: Job 2:3-6<br /><br />3: "And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and bescheweth evil? and still he holdeth fast his integrity, although thou movedst me against him, to destroy him without cause."<br />4: "And Satan answered the Lord, and said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life."<br />5: "But put forth thine hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse thee to thy face."<br />6: "And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, he is in thine hand; but save his life."<br /><br />What? Did the Lord really just give Satan permission to do whatever to Job, except kill him? I'm so happy this wasn't a movie! I would have been that annoying person talking back to the movie screen. Unbelievable! Why Lord, I really hope the Lord don't have that kind of faith in me.<br />Job was then struck with painful boils on his entire body. He said his brothas and friends were estranged from him. Family and friends had forgotten him. His servants wouldn't answer his calls. Children even despised him and talked about him. His breath was strange to his wife (I know what you are thinking, and I'm gonna pray for y'all ). Talk about a fall from grace. Job had lost everything and I’m sure he was tempted to completely give up and turn his back on God. His wife even told him to just curse God and die because he was in such a pitiful state. But Job didn’t do that. While he did go through a time of complaining and questioning, he never gave up on God. Wow, what to say? My life ain't so bad, actually my life is good and I am blessed. Even in his moments of self pity, he didn't really complain. I wish I could pretend that I wouldn't have been in a full on windmilling (you remember those fights you and your little sistas and brothas used to have back in the day) kind of fight -- with the Lord. I'm not even going to tempt the Lord and ask for the type of faith that Job had ... because that Brothas and Sistas would mean that I would have to go through something similar to what Job went through.<br /><br />I know that we all go through life's storms. I know that we are having the experiences that we are supposed to have. Who didn't want to be Job prior to him going through his version of the garden of Gethsemane? Who would have traded places with him when he was going through the refiner’s fire? Who stood with him during his moment of hell? We all want to have what Job had, yet we wouldn't have wanted to go through what Job went through.<br /><br />Yes, I'm clear! I'm not going through anything remotely close to what Job went through. I know that I was having a moment, now, it's over. My Sistas and friends stood with me during my trials (I probably shouldn't even call what I've experienced a trial or test). I know that I am loved! I know that God is real! I know that my relationship with Him is real! And, I know that He knows me. He knows me!! I know me. He knows me because I'm having the type of experiences that I can live with, and not those of Job. I know that He loves me because in my moment of insanity I was reminded that He had provided for me an umbrella, a shelter from the storm, Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior. Part of Jesus' atoning love and sacrifice was that during moments of loneliness and hopelessness we would remember to turn to him. There aren't any quick fixes, but through him all things can be restored beyond what even we can imagine.<br /><br />Your Sista in the Gospel,<br />Sista Beehive<br /><a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BT8QW_3GY41_YKT8E" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" width="145" /></a>

Woe is Me

Do you know Job? Have you ever been so consumed with your problems and personal concerns that it seemed there was no immediate relief in sig...

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