A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood

street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for

kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared .

Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the

brakes and backed the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been

thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, 'What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?' The young boy was apologetic. 'Please, mister...please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do,' He pleaded. 'I threw the brick because no one else would stop.



With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. 'It's my brother, 'he said. 'He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up.'



Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, 'Would you please help

me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me.'



Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the

wheelchair, then took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh

scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be

okay. 'Thank you and may God bless you,' the grateful child told the

stranger. Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy! push

his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.



It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very

noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side

door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: 'Don't go

through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get

your attention!' God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts.

Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick

at us. It's our choice to listen or not.

When I read this story, I thought of a much needed message that I heard a year or so ago.  Rev. Jim Raley was at a concert preaching along with the Crabb Family at a local church.  His message was one that I will never forget.  His message was titled "Don't Hide your scars".  I thought about first of all, how we get so busy that we don't pay attention to what God is wanting us to do.  We get so tangled up in the circumstances we are facing that we don't always pay attention to what's going on around us.  God has to sometimes "throw a brick" at us to make us pay attention.  Some kind of obstacle has to occur before we'll just let Him help us.  Over the past couple of weeks, God has had to just grab my attention.  He has been testing me like you would not believe.  He's been my help through it all though. I've learned that when God does help us, we need to share that scar with someone else.  God doesn't take us through trials for us to whimper and complain about them.  He takes us through them so that one, we'll become stronger, and two so that we can help others.  I've heard so many times parents saying to their children, 'learn from our mistakes'.  They share their "testimony" of  what they did or didn't do right to their children and hope that it helps them.  Now, we as Christians should apply that same principle.  When you see a brother or sister going through something that you've been through, don't be afraid to show your scars.  Someone else might need to see them.  That will give them hope that if you made it through that trial that they're going through, then they can too!  Whether it be alchoholism, drugs, pornagraphy, sexual sins, or any other sin, someone else is going through what you've gone through and God can deliver them just like He did for you.    You don't have to go into full details.  You just have to let them know that you've been there before them and God has delivered you from that bondage and encourage them to be their best for God.  Don't EVER be afraid to show your scars!

The Treasure

by Alice Gray as printed in "More Stories for the Heart"



The cheerful girl with bouncy golden curls was almost five. Waiting with her mother at the checkout stand, she saw them: a circle of glistening white pearls in a pink foil box. "Oh please, Mommy. Can I have them? Please, mommy, please!"



Quickly the mother checked the back of the little foil box and then looked back into the pleading blue eyes of her little girl's upturned face. "A dollar ninety-five. That's almost $2.00 If you really want them, I'll think of some extra chores for you and in no time you can save enough money to buy them for yourself. Your birthday's only a week away and you might get another crisp dollar bill from Grandma."



As soon as Jenny got home, she emptied her penny bank and counted out 17 pennies. After dinner, she did more than her share of chores and she went to the neighbor and asked Mrs. McJames if she could pick dandelions for ten cents. On her birthday, Grandma did give her another new dollar bill and at last she had enough money to buy the necklace.

Jenny loved her pearls. They made her feel dressed up and grown up. She wore them everywhere--Sunday school, kindergarten, even to bed. The only time she took them off was when she went swimming or had a bubble bath. Mother said if they got wet, they might turn her neck green.

Jenny had a very loving daddy and every night when she was ready for bed, he would stop whatever he was doing and come upstairs to read her a story. One night when he finished the story, he asked Jenny, "Do you love me?"



"Oh yes, Daddy. You know that I love you."



"Then give me your pearls."



"Oh, Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have Princess--the white horse from my collection. The one with the pink tail. Remember, Daddy? The one you gave me. She's my favorite."



"That's okay, Honey. Daddy loves you. Good night." And he brushed her cheek with a kiss.



About a week later, after the story time, Jenny's daddy asked again, "Do you love me?"



"Daddy, you know I love you."



"Then give me your pearls."



"Oh Daddy, not my pearls. But you can have my babydoll. The brand new one I got for my birthday. She is so beautiful and you can have the yellow blanket that matches her sleeper."



"That's okay. Sleep well. God bless you, little one. Daddy loves you." And as always, he brushed her cheek with a gentle kiss.



A few nights later when her daddy came in, Jenny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed Indian-style. As he came close, he noticed her chin was trembling and one silent tear rolled down her cheek.



"What is it, Jenny? What's the matter?"



Jenny didn't say anything but lifted her little hand up to her daddy. And when she opened it, there was her little pearl necklace. With a little quiver, she finally said, "Here, Daddy. It's for you."



With tears gathering in his own eyes, Jenny's kind daddy reached out with one hand to take the dime-store necklace, and with the other hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet case with a strand of genuine pearls and gave them to Jenny. He had had them all the time. He was just waiting for her to give up the dime-store stuff so he could give her genuine treasure.

I couldn't help but think when I read this, how often we do this type of thing in our spiritual walk.  I thought about how I did this with salvation.  I professed salvation for a long time.  I talked the talk, but can't say that I truly walked the walk.  In front of others, I showed a counterfeit version of salvation, just as the little girl had a counterfeit set of pearls .  I let everyone see what I wanted them to, and meanwhile, God was trying to trade my counterfeit salvation for real salvation.  He did this, all because He loved me and wanted the best for me.  I look at other things in my life that are material.  Many times, I have suffered through sickness just because I didn't let God take over.  God truly wants the best for His children.  As I mentioned in my last blog, He owns the cattle on a thousand hills.  This whole world is His as well as everything in it.  We so many times sell ourselves short of blessings simply because we don't ask Him for it.  A lot of times, I don't get what I want because I don't consult my Father.  This past week has been such a learning experience for me.  I was laid off from my job along with everyone else that works here.  I was able to get my income tax money to pay the bills for the month, thank God!  But, through the week, I prayed, God help me find another job.  I couldn't find anything that would pay the same or even close to what I was making.  I said, okay God, show me what I need to apply for.  He told me, just be still.  Let me work.  I will make a way.  So, I stayed put.  Had I moved on my own and not let Him work, I'd be miserable.  I am back to work today, with the same company, and God is opening up doors for several new jobs.  We started one today and there's another that we're starting soon.  My God is able!  He wants the best for me.  It also opened up a door for me to apply to the LPN program at the college.  I'm waiting to see if I got accepted. 

  When we trade our worries with God and just praise Him for who He is, He just gives us blessings beyond measure.  When we offer up what we have to Him, He will give us more than we ever asked for.  We must sacrifice the small things in order to get the best.  Give up your fake pearls for the real deal!

I Will Move the Rock

by Cindy Lu

A man was sleeping at night in his cabin when suddenly his room filled with light and the Savior appeared. The Lord told the man he had work for him to do and showed him a large rock in front of his cabin. The Lord explained that the man was to push against the rock with all his might.

This the man did, day after day. For many years he toiled from sun up to sun down, his shoulders set squarely against the cold, massive surface of the unmoving rock, pushing with all his might. Each night the man returned to his cabin sore and worn out, feeling that his whole day had been spent in vain.

Seeing that the man was showing signs of discouragement, Satan decided to enter the picture by placing thoughts into the man's mind such as: "You have been pushing against that rock for a long time, and it hasn't budged. Why kill yourself over this? You are never going to move it."

Thus giving the man the impression that the task was impossible and that he was a failure, these thoughts discouraged and disheartened the man even more. "Why kill myself over this?" he thought. "I'll just put in my time, giving just the minimum effort, and that will be good enough."

And that he planned to do until one day he decided to make it a matter of prayer and take his troubled thoughts to the Lord. "Lord," he said, "I have labored long and hard in your service, putting all my strength to do that which you have asked. Yet, after all this time, I have not even budged that rock by half a millimeter. What is wrong? Why am I failing?"

To this the Lord responded compassionately, "My friend, when I asked you to serve me and you accepted, I told you that your task was to push against the rock with all your strength, which you have done. Never once did I mention to you that I expected you to move it. Your task was to push. And now you come to me, with your strength spent, thinking that you have failed. But, is that really so? Look at yourself. Your arms are strong and muscled, your back sinewed and brown, your hands are callused from constant pressure, and your legs have become massive and hard. Through opposition you have grown much and your abilities now surpass that which you used to have. Yet you haven't moved the rock. But your calling was to be obedient and to push and to exercise your faith and trust in My wisdom. This you have done.

"I, my friend, will now move the rock."

It's been quite some time since I've written a blog.  Ronald reminded me this past weekend that they are a useful tool in the lives of people and that I needed to keep doing it.  Sometimes we allow discouragement in our lives.  When I found this story, I said, wow, that's exactly where I've been at in my spiritual life lately.  I've allowed an overwhelming amount of discouragement into my life and felt as if I had failed in my Christian walk.  I became discouraged about a lot of things that I've done.  That's just how Satan wants it, isn't it?  We tend to sit back and have ourselves a pity party saying, "I just can't do it anymore."  "I'm not doing this right so I'm giving up."  "I'm tired of fighting with it, so I'm just giving up."  I came to a place just a week or two ago to where I was reminded that God has to be all.  Mentally, I know this, but sometimes I let that discouragement come in and I just forget that God is my ROCK and he is in control of everything in my life whether big or small.   This past week, I found out that my job isn't very stable right now.  The construction industry is down because the housing market is down.  My dad is struggling with all his might to keep the business going.  Friday, we were all told that if something didn't come through this week, we'll probably be laid off.  Well, being human, I started to worry.  I said, okay, I have a truck payment due, insurance, bills to pay, etc., what am I going to do if I'm laid off?  How am I going to survive?  Unemployment really doesn't pay squat.  I figured up that I'd get about $269 a week for unemployment which is about half of what I normally make.  Satan tried throwing up all the worries and anxiety.  I was feeling kind of down and still worried and then God reminded me that He has everything in control.  He can move the mountain for me!  He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, so what does  a little truck payment and my bills matter  to him?  I had to put my focus on HIM being the one to handle my problems and not ME!  I have trouble with that sometimes.  Just like the man in the story, I try to use my efforts to move the obstacle.  My efforts, just as his, are really in vain.  When the man in the story went to God, he saw that the challenge that God had given him only made him stronger.  He felt like a failure, but God showed him that everything he had done was not failure, in fact, it was far from it.  He grew to be a strong man.    Let Him move the rock for you!

Struck down, but not destroyed!

Katie

  After I finished reading this story and wiping away my tears, I thought about the times that I have not had a song.  I was the one who needed someone else to sing me a song of life and give me the words that speak life to me.  Sometimes, I have to admit, I just feel like giving up.  That's the human nature in me.  The road gets hard, and I want to just throw in the towel.  It never ceases to amaze me though, how when I'm in that point of life, God sends someone to speak into me words of life and encouragement to where I know I must go on.  I know that there is no place to stop, but when the road gets rough, many times we as humans just want to give up and Satan encourages that we do!  I've purposed in my heart though, that I will not give up.  I will keep going.  I will keep serving the One who gave everything for me!  I will keep singing.  And, I will speak words of life to others and not words of defeat or death.  Hope this story gives you some inspiration to not give up and to keep on singing! Get your tissues!

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling. They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy.



The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then the labor pains come. Every five minutes... every minute. But complications arise during delivery. After hours of labor a C-section is required. Finally, Michael's little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee.



The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst." Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby -- now they plan a funeral.



Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says.



Week two: Still in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive.



She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed in ICU." The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line. "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"



Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings:





"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray..."



Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady. Keep on singing, Michael.





"You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away..."



The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr. Keep on singing, Michael.





"The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..."



Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her. Keep on singing, Michael.





"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don't, take my sunshine away."



Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows. Funeral plans are scrapped. The next, day - the very next day - the little girl is well enough to go home! Woman's Day magazine called it "the miracle of a brother's song." The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God's love.



A few weeks later, Michael's little sister was baptized at the Panther Creek Church. If you were planning that service, what song would you select? Who would you have sing it? Would you ask the congregation to sing along?



I talked to Tennessee Pastor G. Steve Sallee, who first shared the story with Leonard Sweet, who published an abbreviated version of it in Homiletics. Pastor Sallee said that when Sweet told the story at the Lake Junaluska conference center, a woman jumped up from the congregation, ran to the podium, and interrupted the sermon. "It's true," the woman cried out. "And those were my grandchildren. And I want to praise God for the miracle of love." The shekinah (the presence of God in the world) of heaven fell. The order of service was destroyed. The whole congregation was hugging, weeping, and praising God as they sang together "You Are My Sunshine."



The Holy Spirit turned that old love song from the Charleston flappers era into a hymn of praise too deep for words.



In this sad world, people all around us lie dying from depression, from criticism, from failure, from sin. If you have a song, won't you please sing it.



In your community there are people who are in despair, people who just can't find the wherewithal to try again. If you have a song won't you please sing it?



In your church, in your family, there are people for whom hope is as dim as a flashlight left on all night. Don't you know someone who hasn't been serenaded with a love song in 20 years? If all you have is an old love song from the '20s, if that's all in the world you have, won't you please sing it?



The Bible says, "The tongue has the power of life and death" (Proverbs 18:21). So, if you have a song, won't you sing it? The Bible says, "The tongue of the just is as choice silver" (Proverbs 10:20). So if you have a song, won't you please sing, it? "But I don't have much of a voice," you say. Well, I don't mean that you have to literally, blurt out an old love song like "You Are My Sunshine" or "Love Me Tender." Your God-given song may be a yard mowed, showing up at the nursing home with a bunch of wildflowers, baking a batch of brownies, or sending a check so a college student can come home for Christmas. Your best tune, the best life-giving music you will ever make, may sound like a long overdue apology, a generous helping of forgiveness, a $100 bill given to a stranger, volunteer work at the Salvation Army, or a Christmas card to one who was sure you had forgotten him or her long ago.



If you have a song, won't you please sing it? If all you can do is hum, whistle, or belt out an, old love song from the flappers generation, maybe, just maybe, God can transform it into a hymn clothed in the shekinah of His love.



~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keep on singing . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~



Titus 3:8 "These things I have told you are all true. I want you to insist on them so that everyone who trusts in God will be careful to do good deeds all the time. These things are good and beneficial for everyone."

   17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last. Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework. Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him." Brian's Essay: The Room... In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

   I found myself sitting here in astonishment when I read this.  I don't know that Heaven will have a "card file" of everything we did, but I do know that everything we have done is written down.  Whether good or bad, everything we do in life will have to be accounted for.  My personal belief is that it is probably in books written down since in Revelation we're told that John saw the "books" openend: one being The Book of Life.  In Matthew 12:36, we're told that we'll give account for every idle word we speak in the day of judgement.  There has been a lot of controversy over what exactly that means, but that should make us think before we speak!  I was reading in the story where he sees the card files of everything he had done.  He saw things such as "Lustful thoughts", "Yelling at someone", "TV programs he'd watched", etc.  I began to think about that and realize that my file might be very large for some of these boxes he mentioned.  I just began to thank God for salvation and His mercy and grace.  I am the reason that He had to be crucified.  I am the reason that He had to be a sacrafice.  Then I began to ponder on how many cards I'd have in the "sharing the gospel with others" file.  That broke my heart.  I try to walk the walk and talk the talk, but sometimes my attitude prevents me from witnessing.  We get in a huff when we go to the store and the line is too long.  Many times, I have gotten upset and just left my cart right there in the line because it wasn't moving as fast as I'd like for it to.  Then some poor WalMart employee has to take my items out of the cart and restock them.  Keep in mind, when I do go to WalMart, my cart is usually full!  As I was reading, God was bringing to my mind some merely simple things that I have overlooked.  I'm not trying to push my convictions on you, I'm just sharing what I thought about!  Another thing that came to mind is some of the programs I've watched on TV.  I usually don't watch a lot of television, but some of the programs I've watched have no place in the mind of a Christian.  Please don't get me wrong, I'm not watching anything that is hardcore or that bad in most people's sight, but simple shows with cursing or using God's name in vain, I flip the channel, but then come right back to it!   God revealed some things to me this past weekend as we went to the Casting Crowns concert.  He's been working in my life a lot lately and here's what Mark Hall had to say.  He shared that you don't just wake up one morning and say, "I think I'll sin today."  It happens gradually when we let our guards down by watching that TV program, or listening to that joke.  We allow it to enter into our minds and eventually we see enough of it and dwell on it enough that Satan can use that very thing to cause us to fall.  It is usually a process.  We see something on TV or hear it in a song.  We start thinking on it and then we want to go do whatever it is.  Eventually, Satan talks us into doing whatever it is and saying, oh it's not so bad!  It won't hurt you.  Sound familiar?  So many times in my life, that very thing has happened.  It started as a mere thought and ended up being the reason for the fall.  It always starts out small and works its way up to being a big thing!  I hope that you got as much out of the story as I did and I'm sorry that it's so long! 

Until next time,

Katie