When I was eighteen, I read a book* that became a defining influence upon my life. It was a biography written by Elisabeth Elliot about the life of Amy Carmichael who was missionary to India in the early 1900s. As a young woman in Ireland, Amy felt God calling her to give up the pursuits and pleasures of the world and become fully consecrated to Him.
The weighted ivory keys beckoned me closer. Accepting their invitation, I drew out the piano bench, arranged my sheet music, and arched my fingers slightly. As the first notes of Beethoven’s Für Elise lingered in the air, I was transported from the parlor to a place of soul that didn’t exist before I began piano lessons. Let it be known — I am far from a piano prodigy.
Has anything taken a place in our heart that is reserved for One?There it was – another testimonial. Someone started taking a health supplement and within weeks their life was drastically changed for the better. For two years I had been taking this particular brand of supplement, hoping to see improvement in some of my long-term health issues.
No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will be loyal to the one and despise the other.Matthew 6:24It was a warm September evening, twenty-three years ago. I sat quietly on my bed, gazing through my open window at the brilliant colors that lit up the sky as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. It was a beautiful scene, but I coul
I sat in a wing-back chair by the blazing fireplace, surrounded by friends on a Wednesday night; our weekly life-group meeting was underway. As I read aloud from Acts 2, I caught myself pausing when I came to verse 42: “...and they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42, NIV).
I watched the funds in our bank account dwindle with every passing day. Abrupt recent changes to our economy had negatively affected both my husband’s and my job. We didn’t have much income on the horizon, and I was waking up daily with a sense of fear and restlessness about the future.
During most of my single years I was on a desperate search for true love. I was convinced that if I could only find the right guy—the knight in shining armor I’d always dreamed of—I would finally be happy and fulfilled. Despite my fairy tale ideals
I sat on my bed in the attic of the little house in Nashville, wrestling with the reality that a lifelong dream was coming to an end. In the morning, I would be loading up the car to drive back home to Canada. Three months earlier, I had arrived in the city of my dreams with hopes to cut a record in the Christian music industry.
It was 1905. Seventeen-year-old Lillian Trasher stepped into the bustling editor’s office at a big-city newspaper, nervously clutching her sketchpad. Her heart beat excitedly at the flurry of activity around her as typewriters clicked and reporters scribbled furiously on notepads. Landing a lucrative job as a newspaper artist had been a long-time dream of Lillian’s.