Monthly Archives: May 2019

Stolen Book Review

A book reviewer reached out and asked if she could do a review on Stolen, as she found the premise interesting. Of course, I said yes. Her review was posted today, and all I can say is, wow. I was brought to tears over how accurately she captured my heart for this message – really, for all the novels I intend to write. I truly appreciate the time Robin Prater invested, and how beautifully she captured the underlying essence of Stolen. Don’t worry – there are no spoilers.

Click Here to Read Robin Prater’s Review of Stolen

Forget the Former Things

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:18-19

We all have expectations and desires for our tomorrows, but we sometimes allow our yesterdays to get in the way. No matter what your current situation in life, I pray this leaves you excited about the great things our God has waiting for you, as well as a changed perspective about where you’ve been. I’m excited to look with you in Isaiah, where we’ll learn about the amazing power of transformation available to us, and how God encourages us to keep our eye on the prize.

Visualize a wasteland. Webster defines this as “an ugly often devastated or barely inhabitable place or area.” Imagine what would happen if a stream of fresh, clean water is planted right in the middle of that wasteland. Over time, the ground around it begins to absorb the water. As the water spreads farther into the ground, it’s the catalyst for new life. Slowly, the seeds that once fell on hard and dry soil now have soft dirt to cultivate in. In a matter of time, what was once ugly and barren is full of lush, green life. When you choose to call God the Lord of your life, you are choosing life itself. You are allowing His living water to be deposited into the deepest part of you.

Let’s look to a common scientific principle – water was meant to flow. As you read His Word and spend time with Him, increasing your understanding of who God is and His will for you, that repository of water begins to flow, not only into every part of you but, into the lives of those around you. That water changes you. It changes your heart and transforms your mind (Romans 12:2). Transforming your mind and heart will transform your life. 

What prevents us from embracing the change and walking in transformation? Often times, it’s because we’re too busy dwelling on our past. You know the phrase, “the best predictor of the future is the past.” There’s usually no shortage of people reminding us of our mistakes and shortcomings. After hearing these messages enough times, we begin to believe the limitations others set for us.

God takes a different approach on things. He’s telling us to forget the former things. One of the amazing gifts afforded to us through our relationship with Christ is the ability to wipe our slates clean. If you’re in doubt, look at Paul’s story (Acts 9), and the amazing works he was able to do for Christ afterthe years he spent murdering Christians. I sometimes wonder what self-deprecating thoughts Paul had to overcome after his own transformation. How many times did he have to tell himself God was bigger than his murderous rampage of the brothers that were now his?

I’m not saying it’s easy to forget our past, but we must reconcile the misgiving that our failures make us unworthy. Sweet One, our being human makes us unworthy, but the power of Christ’s death and resurrection created a way for us to forget the former things and set ourselves on a new path.

Don’t let Satan use your past as a means to limit your future.

Understand our mistakes only serve to glorify the One who can make all things new (Romans 8:28-30). I believe this glory comes in two forms. The first is simple – Jesus saves. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve done – there isn’t anything the cross didn’t overcome. When Jesus hung on that cross, bloody and beaten, he bore the pain and shame of every sin ever committed and yet to be committed. Nothing was forgotten. No one was forgotten.

The second form of glory is more subjective, but equally valuable – your story. Think of survivor stories and how individuals use those to inspire and motivate others. In our Christian walks, it’s vital for us to relate to others in a way that makes faith real and even tangible. We do this through sharing our stories and triumphs of overcoming sin and hardship. People need to know and believe we’ve walked in their shoes before they will trust what we say to them.

Being real about who we were before Christ transformed us, and the ways we fall on our face amidst our Christian walks today, serves to fortify the hope available for those who choose to believe.

Dwelling on your past will lead you back to a drought. Don’t forget the lessons in them, but don’t let your past limit your future. We serve an amazing God – able to do immeasurably more than we could possibly ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20-21). If God believes you can, shouldn’t you?

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? …. No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:31, 37-39

Be blessed,
C.K.

Small Beginnings

“Who dares despise the day of small things, since the seven eyes of the Lord that range throughout the earth will rejoice when they see the chosen capstone in the hand of Zerubbabel?” Zechariah 4:10

“What?”

After only a few sips of my morning coffee, that’s what I uttered out loud after reading the Scripture passage above. This is a good example of the types of verses that are easy to gloss over. We read it, but we’re not quite sure what we just read, so we shrug our shoulders and keep going. I’ll admit, that’s exactly what I did. Everything I had to do yesterday was already piling up in my mind, and it just seemed like too much of an inconvenience to stop and dig in. It was much easier to just keep reading and check the box on my quiet time for the day.

But God is good, and He knows what we need, when we need it. Every to-do item that ran around in my brain had a companion thought… “small things” … “capstone” … “hand of Zerubbabel.” Both curiosity and conviction got the better of me. I closed my to-do app, read the Scripture in context, and then opened my concordance and commentary apps. Boy, I’m sure glad I did.

First, a question. Do you ever find yourself looking around at small beginnings, and despising that they are small?

Second, a quick history lesson to set the stage. Stick with me. It will be worth it.

There was a great temple built in Jerusalem under King Solomon’s reign (1 Kings 6), which was destroyed about fifty years later by the Babylonians, under King Nebuchadnezzar, when they overtook the city. The Judean people were exiled for the next 30 years, until King Cyrus conquered the Babylonians, and permitted the Judean people to come back and rebuild their temple.

Zerubbabel was one of the first Jews to return. He was appointed Governor of Judah, and immediately began the rebuild. It took him two years to lay the foundation, and had to deal with opposition and false accusations, which caused leadership to pull their support. There it sat, for seventeen years. Nothing. Enter stage right a couple of prophets sent to encourage, and four years later the temple rebuild was finally complete.

You’d think twenty-three years of work would get you a gigantic sphinx with Zerubbabel’s head carved into it. Not so much. It was recorded to be much less grand in stature than its predecessor, Solomon’s temple. Author’s commentary: It was smaller. Laughably smaller. Is laughably a word?

Okay, here’s my insight. 

It didn’t really matter if it was smaller than the first temple, because it was significant in a completely different way. It signified the rebirth of life and freedom for the Jews after experiencing a devastating exile. Here’s something more. The first temple was built under forced labor. This one was built by the people and for the people – the same people who vowed to maintain it because they were passionate about it. What I found equally interesting is, although this temple was smaller, it became more central to the Judean people as a point of their history than Solomon’s temple was. After what they had experienced, they knew what this temple represented.

So, why do we care about all this? Take a deep breath with me, and realize this is the story of many of our lives.

Whether it’s your faith, your finances, a relationship, a job, or a dream… maybe you had something you thought was really great – either in idea or action. Then life happened, sending you off course, and leaving you feeling lost. You had to deal with opposition – whether it happened to you or because of you. Maybe for a year. Maybe for twenty-three years. Maybe it felt like a full-on exile.

It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or where you are now. God is calling you out of that exile to rebuild. And if you’re already trying to rebuild and there’s opposition, just keep laying one stone at a time. Use the things you learned and the ways you grew as the mortar for each of those stones.

When you do start laying stones, don’t look around discouraged and despise small beginnings. They are the foundation for what can lead to something of even greater significance than what you had before.

Our beginning Scripture says not to despise the day of small things, and that the eyes of the Lord will rejoice when they see the capstone in Zerubbabel’s hand. A capstone is any of the stones making up the top layer of the wall. God has a plan for your life. Every plan starts out small, but if you keep laying one stone at a time, before you know it, you’ll be holding a capstone. And heaven will be rejoicing with you. It will be worth every step of your journey.

Be blessed,
C.K.

Stolen Press Release

I’m excited to share the formal press release that went out this morning on the release of Stolen. The release was sent to:

        – 6000+ National Media Outlets
        – National Industry Magazines
        – Apple News, Google News, and Bing News
        – Wisconsin News Outlets

LINK TO PRESS RELEASE

I’ll be sharing links on all my social media pages, and I’m looking for your help to spread the news! Please use the shareable icons at the top of the press release for Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and LinkedIn to share it. Let’s get this out there to people who might need the message!

Be blessed,
C.K.

Stolen Launch Countdown

To celebrate the launch of my fiction thriller, Stolen, I’ll be posting excerpts from the book every day until it goes live on Tuesday, when it’s available on Amazon. I can’t post anything toward the end of the book, or I’ll give away the twists and the ending, but I hope you enjoy these excerpts as a small taste of what’s to come. Check it out!


Launch Day -1 (Monday): Excerpt from Caroline Klug’s fiction thriller, Stolen

She lay on the floor as he loomed over her. It was amazing to her how many thoughts she had in the short time she was staring death in the face. A flood of memories assaulted her, like waves crashing on the shore. They were momentary flashes of precious times tucked away in her subconscious, programed to emerge upon critical failure.
        How odd, she thought, how the mind works. She wondered how it decided which memories deserved center stage during the final act. Pictures passed through her mind and stopped abruptly on her dad. The last known image of him in her brain. The one from television. The one of him crying. She too, closed her eyes and cried, not wanting to see the final act of her attacker’s rage.

Tomorrow is Launch Day! Click here to go to Amazon
and order your copy now. It will be shipped or delivered electronically tomorrow!

Launch Day -2 (Sunday): Excerpt from Caroline Klug’s fiction thriller, Stolen

The brilliant lights seemed to dance in the background of her memories, as she lay replaying better times in her head. When Star finally opened her eyes again, there were no more brilliant lights. Her prison was dark and quiet. The man was gone. She wondered what time it was, and if it were day or night. She no longer had the shackle on, so she could get up and turn the light on if she wanted. As funny as it sounded in her own mind, a part of her was afraid to turn the light on. She was afraid to get a good look at her prison. And her isolation.
        Star sunk into the mattress. There was really only one spot to comfortably sleep, which was right in the middle where the mattress sunk in to form to a person-like mold. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling grateful that her stomach was settling. It was enough to allow her what felt like one of the first moments of clarity since she’d been in there.
        She lay there thinking. You’re going to get out of here and then what? What’s your plan? Maybe this is your second chance. So what are you going to do with it? I’m going to stay sober. No more drugs. I’ll get a job. A real job. I’ll get a place of my own too. Maybe Lacey and I could get a new place together. Maybe we could even go to school.
        She found herself grinning, thinking of what it would be like for her and Lace to be traipsing across some college campus with backpacks, notebooks, and iced coffees. It would be just like they see on TV. She smiled again, imagining how proud her dad would be of her. She only floated on that idea for a moment before her smile faded, and her heart hurt again. What would he think of her if he knew what she had become? Would he ever feel the same about her? She closed her eyes and tried to push away the intrusive thoughts which filled her now overly crowded mind.

***

Hope. It was all she had. She would either die in this prison, or she would live. A few days ago, she wanted to die. Now, she felt differently. She wanted a chance. She closed her eyes and made a silent promise to herself that she would accept wherever this prison brought her – good or bad. She had to accept the consequences – life or death. But she wanted life.

Launch Day -3 (Saturday): Excerpt from Caroline Klug’s fiction thriller, Stolen

Whether he realized it or not, Teddy was good at flirting. He made an art out of displaying his boyish grins at just the right time. She never used to look at Teddy that way but, once they got to high school, she found herself feeling jealous of the attention he got from the other girls. It made her realize she saw something in him that was more than just a friend. She wanted to tell him, but never found the right time. That’s what she told herself, anyway.
        Headlights caught her attention as the large bus rounded the corner a few blocks down. Seeing the bus in sight made it feel colder, and she bounced up and down trying to warm herself. The sound of the air brakes on the bus silenced the eerie quietness of the morning, and Sarah made the four steps into the bus two, as she escaped from the cold. She looked across the empty seats as she dropped her change into the meter, then selected a seat in the middle. The rest of the stops were empty, so the bus made a straight mile and a half run to the school. She smiled politely at the bus driver and bounced down the steps and onto the pavement. The wind whipped up her skirt once more, and she tightened her grip on her backpack as she ran across the courtyard to the front doors.
        Relieved to reach them, anticipating a rush of warmth, Sarah pulled on the handle only to find it locked. Pressing her forehead against the glass door, she peered inside, hoping for signs of life to open the door. Nothing. No one. Sarah sighed, and decided she would need to run around to the other side of the school and try the side doors. Those were closer to the gym and weight room where they typically practiced, so she was hopeful someone would be there. She reached the doors and gave them a tug, but they were locked too. She grimaced at the thought of having to stand out here for another thirty minutes. Resigned to her wait, she looked around for any kind of shelter.
        There, along the wall of the school she saw a girl. She was sitting inside one of the window wells, so Sarah walked toward her. As she got closer, she thought better of herself, but it was too late. The girl had already seen her and was waving for her to come over. Sarah couldn’t ignore her now, so she continued over. Sarah stood, looking down into the window well at the girl in a skirt and heels. She wasn’t in any school uniform, so Sarah guessed her uniform was, well, professional. She had heard some teachers talking about the prostitution problem happening not far from the school, worried the teenage boys would get enticed by it.
        “Hi!” the girl said with a smile. “You can come in here with me if you want.”
        Sarah looked at her, confused.
        “It’s warm in here. See the vent?” The girl pointed to the air vent by her feet. She made Sarah slightly uncomfortable, but the idea of standing in the cold for any longer made her even more uncomfortable, so she stepped inside and sat on the ground. She was right. The vent was pumping out gloriously warm air. Pleasant goosebumps ran up and down Sarah’s body as she moved her hands and feet closer to the vent. The two girls sat without speaking.
        Sarah tried not to stare in the girl’s direction but couldn’t help noticing her shiny necklace. It was a silver chain with a shiny, silver dolphin. After a few minutes, Sarah asked, “What are you doing in here?”
        “Probably the same thing you’re doing in here. It’s warmer in here than it is out there.”
        Sarah smiled. “Yeah, but I mean, what are you doing out here?” she said, trying to clarify. “Do you go to school here?”
        “I used to, but I dropped out a few years ago. I’d ask you the same thing, but I can see from your cheerleading outfit you go here.”
        “Dance team,” Sarah clarified. “I’m part of the dance team. The cheerleaders are too stuck up.” The girls exchanged a giggle and let the silence resume for a while.
        “Are you a hooker?” Sarah asked, and then regretted her question.
        Still staring down at the vent, the girl replied, “Yes. But we don’t call it that. People call us ladies of the night. Sounds more, well, like it’s something it’s not.”
        Sarah’s cheeks flushed at the girl’s candor, and she immediately tried to change the subject. “I’m a freshman. It’s my first year here.”
        The girl ignored Sarah’s comment and continued. “I don’t do this because I want to. It’s because I have to. It’s not glamorous or nothing, but it’s a way to pay for food and get a place to crash at sometimes.”
        Sarah was now feeling increasingly uncomfortable and was elated to hear one of her teammates yelling to her from an open door. “Come on! Coach is here!”
        Sarah gave the girl an apologetic look and excused herself from the warming well. She trotted quickly to the door, giving one look back at the girl who was watching her run away. Sarah wasn’t sure what she thought of all of that but couldn’t imagine making that kind of choice.

Launch Day -4 (Friday): Excerpt from Caroline Klug’s fiction thriller, Stolen

Star wouldn’t cry. Not now. She had to be strong. She had to press past the hopelessness she felt and try again to fight. Not today, but soon. In order to do that, she had to get past this addiction. Other people went into rehab. She figured this was her rehab. It just wouldn’t come with medication and a therapist. She would have to do this the hard way. It had been at least a week. Maybe longer. How much longer would she really have to feel this way? Star tried to focus on the pain in her ankle as a way to distract herself from the other physical symptoms she was feeling.
        “No,” Star said quietly.
        At this point, Jack was already reaching into the bag for the drugs. He stopped, his hand still in the bag, and looked up.
        “What did you say?” Jack looked surprised.
        Star adjusted her position on the bed, fighting the pain from her ankle and hand, bringing herself to a more upright position.
        “I said no,” Star repeated, a little louder this time. “I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to need it anymore.”
        Jack dropped whatever was in his hand and pulled his arm slowly from the bag, and stood to an upright position.
        Star sat as tall as she could, while Jack stood looking at her. In those few moments, Star noted a shift in Jack’s face. Almost a softening.
        “I think you’re going to make it,” Jack said with a smile.
        “What do you mean?”
        “You’re not like the other girls. You’re stronger. You’re going to make it. Those other girls just weren’t strong enough. I tried to help them, but they didn’t want to be saved.”
        Star’s mind reeled. “Other girls?”
        Jack ignored her question and returned to the bags on the floor.
        “What happened to the other girls?”

Pre-order your paperback or eBook copy of Stolen today, and it will be shipped or delivered electronically on Tuesday, May 14. Click here to go to Amazon.

Launch Day -5 (Thursday): Excerpt from Caroline Klug’s fiction thriller, Stolen

Part of her wanted to go talk to Teddy. He always knew what to say to make her feel better, but a small part of her resented him for that. His words of hope. She knew he meant well, but hope had eluded her over this last year, and the last thing she wanted to hear was any more religious rhetoric. He would tell her that everything happens for a reason and would make her a better person.
        Sarah snorted angrily and wondered what exactly a better person was, anyway. Better than who? Didn’t we all have our mud? Mud can come in various shades but, at the end of the day, it’s all the same. Sarah drew in a deep breath and tried not to think about the funeral. She tried not to think about walking up to the casket. That cold, dark box containing a dead body on display. She shook her head in disgust at whoever originally thought that would be a good idea.
        The counselor had assured her it was for closure. She assured him she already knew her mom was dead. He didn’t think that was funny, but neither did she.
        She had to stop thinking about it. She couldn’t let that level of pain in. It was too much. It was all too much. The thought that had been circling around in her mind for the last month was coming to rest hard on her now. She stared ahead, lost in thought. With a single tear running down her cheek, she got up, opened the closet door, and pulled out her backpack. She spent the next hour carefully selecting only things she thought she would really need, then sat at her desk to write her dad a note. It felt like an impossible task. What would she say? What could she say?

***

Sarah laid the jersey on top of her backpack and walked over to his window. “Do you ever wonder where you’d be right now if your dad was still alive?”
        The question seemed to catch Teddy by surprise. He stood silently, trying to process the intent of her question. Even though Teddy was a good-sized kid who was often mistaken for being tough and intimidating, he was really quite sensitive when it came to people’s emotions and needs. Sarah understood the sensitivity of her question, and she also knew she was one of the only people who could ask him that without him feeling attacked or offended. Sarah continued to stare out the window, not making any eye contact with him, giving him the space he needed to think.
        “Um…” Teddy stalled. “I… I don’t know. I guess maybe I’d still be here, playing football and stuff.”
        “What about the God stuff?” Sarah said, her back still to him.
        “What’s wrong?” Teddy asked. “You seem off. Are you okay?”
        “I haven’t been okay for a long time now.” Sarah could feel the emotion welling in her throat but pushed it down. “But that doesn’t matter. I was just curious.” She turned to face him. “You’re in such a good place right now. All that bad stuff that happened to you… is the God stuff the reason you’re doing good now, or not?”
        Teddy stood searching her face, looking for anything to help him with his answer.
        “I’m not sure how to answer that but, I guess so. Yeah.”
        Sarah smiled at him, seemingly happy with his answer, but struggling to figure out the mess going on inside of her. She wanted Teddy’s answer to be her answer, but she didn’t think it could be that simple.
        “Seriously, are you okay? What can I do to help you?”
        “I have to go. I just wanted to say hi.” Sarah pushed her way past him toward the door, then stopped and turned to him again. “And Teddy, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate our friendship. You’ve been there for me when no one else was. With you, I could always just be myself. You’re really a great guy, and I’m so glad you’re happy now.” Sarah moved toward him and threw her arms around his shoulders, giving him a tight hug. Then she let go and hurried out the door and down the stairs.
        “Wait!” Teddy called after her. “I feel like something’s wrong. What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
        “Sorry, I have to go. I’m okay. I’m going to be okay.” Sarah couldn’t bring herself to look back. She hurried through the kitchen and out the side door. She made it look like she was heading back to her house, in case he was watching. She assumed he would be. Once she knew she was out of sight, she walked around the other side of her house and headed down the street toward the bus station. She still had Teddy’s jersey in her hand. She pulled it up to her nose and drew in the smell. Tears ran down her cheeks and wet the jersey. The wind picked up, and she shivered as she tightened her coat around her.

Launch Day -6 (Wednesday): Excerpt from Caroline Klug’s fiction thriller, Stolen

Star had no idea if her screams were audible or only locked away in her head. Her vision was blurred from his punch, and she fought to clear her head as she pulled herself up and onto her hands and knees.
        The man grabbed her forcefully by her long, black hair, pulling a chunk out from the roots. With one hand clutching her hair and the other under her arm, he dragged her to the open side door of the van.
        Star kicked her feet and screamed, working desperately to pry his fingers from her hair. When they got to the van, she grabbed the doorframe, trying to resist his push. Fighting to get past the searing pain on her scalp, she struggled to keep her grip as he shoved her inside.
        The back of the van was completely empty and stripped to the metal. Star grabbed on to the front passenger seat, pulling herself up and away from him. As the man reached for her again, she kicked back with all her might, sending her 3-inch stiletto into his upper thigh.
        The man shrieked. Enraged, he grabbed her ankle, pulled her back onto the floor, and delivered another swift punch to the side of her face.
      Star couldn’t open her eyes, but could feel the man tightening something around her wrists and ankles. When he was done securing her, he slammed the door shut, got into the van, and took off.
      The fight for consciousness clouded her sense of reality and regret painted her thoughts – for which particular thing, she wasn’t even sure where to start. Which was the first of her awful decisions that made all the others follow behind, forcing her down this fast-paced highway of remorse? How did this seventeen-year-old Midwest-friendly girl end up a nineteen-year-old prostitute, hooked on heroin? In her altered state, the audacity of it almost made her laugh out loud. It certainly wasn’t funny. It was the kind of laughter you experience when all the other emotions fail you.
        Two years on the streets had taught her how to appear hard on the outside, but that never really caught up on the inside.

***

Star lay on the cold van floor trying to shake off the memories. She wasn’t sure what was more painful – her present circumstances or how she got here. Despite the heroin pulsing through her veins, the pain still made her head throb. She opened her eyes long enough for the blur of the lights going by to nauseate her stomach. Maybe it was better not to fight. She closed her eyes, feeling herself fade into the blackness.
        Star came to again and could no longer feel the motion under her. They had stopped. She opened her eyes to a blurred view of the ceiling, and tried to make sense of where she was. It wasn’t the van. It was dark, and a strong, musty smell filled her nose. As she rolled onto her side, she was quickly reminded of her raw scalp. She lifted her hand to run her fingers tenderly over the wound. She could feel the blood, but it was dried. How long had she been lying there? Star let out a quiet moan as she tried to sit up. Pain shot up her right leg as the sharp edge of the metal clamp around her ankle dug deep into her skin. She reached down and surveyed the cold metal with her hands, feeling chain links extending to the wall beside the bed. Star slid her hands around, feeling a tattered box spring and metal frame beneath her. There was a blanket on the bed and one small pillow. All of it smelled like a damp cellar.
        Her mind felt clearer, but her physical body was struggling to catch up. She tried to come out of her fog, blinking to clear her vision and see through the blackness. As she did, both terror and adrenaline brought her to attention when she realized she wasn’t alone.


Paperback and eBook will be available for purchase on Tuesday, May 14. eBooks are available for pre-order, and are on sale until the launch date. To take advantage of this sale and pre-order your eBook now, go to Amazon.

Extreme Home Makeover

Unless the Lord builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain. Psalm 127:1

Do you remember the old ABC hit show, Extreme Home Makeover? Ty Pennington and his team would travel the nation, rebuilding the homes of people whose lives had been marked with struggle, illness, or the death of their loved ones. The families would be excursioned off for a week while the makeover team demolished what was there and put something incredibly beautiful in its place.

As Christians, we should take inventory of our spiritual houses. When you stand at a central point looking at the walls around you, what do you see? Do you see a clean and beautiful structure or do you see cracked walls and rotting boards? What in your spiritual house needs to be demolished and rebuilt?

What was the pinnacle or turning point in the lives of the families on this show? They either asked for help or someone close to them made a plea on their behalf. Sound familiar? I hope so, because this, my friend, is prayer. Whether you’re crying out to God for help, or someone who loves you is interceding for you, God hears the prayers of those who diligently seek Him (Hebrews 11:6). 

Some of us have developed in our spiritual maturity, and just need God to come in and renovate a few problematic rooms. However, sometimes we have too much damage for mere renovation. Our walls might be crumbling and, just as we can’t pour new wine into old wineskins (Matthew 9:17), God won’t build a new home on top of a foundation that’s damaged. In these situations, we find ourselves surrendered and requiring all the trust we can muster as the walls are brought down around us.

Sweet one, I know all too well how frightening this can be. There was a point in my life when everything seemed to be crumbling down around me. Anything and everything that held significance to me seemed to get ripped away in some fashion. As I mentally and emotionally walked through the rubble, tears streaming over the broken items, it was then God picked me up and held me in His arms. He pulled me far enough away so my focus was no longer on the broken pieces, but on the crew that was waiting in the distance to clear away the rubble and rebuild. What I first thought was demise was, in reality, the hope for something better.

I love to redecorate rooms. I love finding one unique item and patterning everything else around it as a compliment. We all have rooms that need a little redecorating. As you allow God into those rooms, He places His Son Jesus inside as the unique centerpiece. Over time, He develops and adds pieces of your character that compliment your centerpiece. This is a life-long process that should never be stagnant.

If you were having guests over, would you be quick to make sure it’s clean? With your spiritual home, every time you interact with people, you’re inviting them into an open house. If it’s less than what God desires, I’d encourage you to see your cracks as opportunities to grow.

Take heart, for help is on the way! When you surrender your spiritual house to the Almighty Designer, He will come in and transform you room by room, until what’s left is your palace (Hebrews 11:10).

I’ll leave you with one more thought. Why did the families on Extreme Home Makeover trust the crew? They were familiar with the show and had seen the results time and time again. If these families can put their homes into the hands of a crew that existed for only a few years, then certainly, you and I can put our homes in the hands of an infinitely-existing, all-knowing, ever-present God, whose record of victories existed before time began.

Be blessed,
C.K.