“Perspectives” Day 1 featuring Mark Czanderna (Captain) “The Wells of Salvation”

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“The Wells of Salvation”

 

(Isaiah 12:3)

Abraham sent servant Eliezer

To find a wife

For his son

Whose name was Isaac

Eliezer left home

Came to a well

Met a future wife

Her name was Rebecah

She was sister to Laban

She was God’s chosen

For Isaac

By a well

Isaac’s wife was found

Jacob left home

Came to a well

Met a future wife

Her name was Rachel

She was daughter to Laban

She was God’s chosen

For Jacob

By a well

Jacob’s wife was found

Jesus left Judea

Came to a well

Met a woman

Her name was Samaritan

She was repulsive to Jews

She was God’s chosen

To believe in Jesus

By a well

Jesus’ follower was found

Rebecca was the mother

Of Jacob and Esau

Rachel was the mother

Of Joseph and Benjamin

The Samaritan woman

Won many sons to Christ

With joy you will draw water

From the wells of salvation

A Gift of Grace -by Marlene Chase (Lt. Colonel, R) “Perspectives” Day 4

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A Gift of Grace

by Marlene J. Chase

 

            Molly was a kind soul but a bit of an odd duck. Fifty-something and mentally challenged, she lived in a local nursing home. The Army was the only family she knew. I often picked her up on Sundays and for the weekly prayer meeting.

     She never let me forget but telephoned the day before a planned activity to remind me to stop for her. Sometimes she called more than once! And how she loved to talk. She wanted to tell me all about her day, what she had for breakfast, what activity was planned at the home. As with small children, though, she could be “tuned out” by busy, sometimes insensitive adults.

            Molly was square-shaped and plain. She loved pretty dresses and wore her few brightly-colored cotton ones proudly–often with mismatching belts or accessories. Her hair hung to her shoulders gray, straight and always with a bright ribbon tied in an ungainly bow on top. Thick glasses threatened to fall off her short nose when she walked–carefully in red and blue tennis shoes with yellow happy faces on each toe.

            One memory of Molly stands out from all the others. It had been one of those weeks when everything that could go wrong did. The demands of corps and family had pressed in on me like twin vises clamped on a delicate base. I didn’t want to hear about Molly’s week. I needed strength, endurance, a little peace. I needed grace, not Molly.

            Though shuffled from one institution to another with few of life’s comforts, Molly was always happy. That Sunday Molly was her usual cheerful self, chatting away a mile a minute.  I couldn’t find it in me to respond to her, so eventually we sat silent for the trip. It was warm, humid, ordinary, and I felt worn down to the bone.

            When we arrived, Molly climbed out in her usual awkward fashion, eager to go to church. But suddenly she stopped.

            “Oh, she exclaimed, putting one hand to her mouth and brightening like a lit flame. “Look what God gave us on the ground!”

            We had found it necessary to end the expensive contract with the lawn service, and the latest crop of dandelions were blooming like radiant suns in the green lawn. How quickly the nasty weeds had sprung up. But to Molly, her face vivid with delight, they were not weeds but exotic blossoms direct from God.

            I looked at again at the objects of her joy. They were beautiful! How is it I had never noticed?

            Suddenly my weariness and worry vanished in a gold-emerald sea. It took Molly to show me what was important, to remind me that God was still there giving His good gifts to enjoy. It took Molly to remind me of His grace.

 

To read more of Marlene Chase’s writings check out her books at Amazon – 

http://www.amazon.com/Marlene-J.-Chase/e/B001K8XP1M

Also available on: http://www.allromancewriters.com/booklist.cfm?authorID=3428

“Arise my soul”…words to ponder!

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Arise my soul, arise,
Shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding sacrifice
in my behalf appears;
Before the throne my surety stands,
my name is written on his hands.
(Charles Wesley)

I’ve been humming the tune to this hymn, yet the poetic words are running through my brain like a train that won’t stop churning and chugging along…I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…  Call it the obsessive mind running in a circular motion very much like a NASCAR track…but yet it’s something more…something deeper, more disturbing.

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The words have struck a chord in me.  Plucked the wrong string that kind of stings yet affirms to me that there is something more to give.  Something more to sacrifice.  Something more to surrender and kill that is of the old self still attempting to crawl off of the altar…stubborn as ever!  The words are visceral, bone on bone, marrow sucked out and pain depicted in His suffering.  Am I willing to allow Him in…like this?  Am I really ready to commit to a deeper, more personal relationship that throws open the curtains to my deepest, darkest sins and embarrassments.  As the curtains are pulled back and His light burns and shines upon me, revealing how dirty and filthy this place truly is…  Yet, If I were to reconsider this deeper calling, I will come to the obvious conclusion that I am already naked before the One who shed His blood for me.  That He already sees me for who I am, who I have been, and who I could be.  He already perceives and knows my guilt and shame.  Perhaps I am like the child who is covering his eyes and saying “you can’t see me”, when all along it has been me that hasn’t seen all along.

“Arise my soul, arise
Shake off thy guilty fears…”

What is it that I am afraid of?  That when He finally sees me, the real me, that I he will shake his head a walk away?  Or will he laugh? Am I afraid to let go?  To lose control?  Do I fear for my identity?  Why have I waited this long to get to this point when all along He has patiently waited for me?  These words aren’t so much about my Salvation as it is about my holiness, or lack there of.  Am I afraid to admit that I am a scared little child in the face of His holiness?  Perhaps.

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I am humming the tune…and letting these words slip in quietly and solemnly.  I am pondering His still small voice, and that of His eternal patience with me.  Savior, hold my hand and lead me.

 

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