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Archive for the ‘Contentment’ Category

~ Written by Cassie Rayl

“I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding,” the mechanic said, laughing nervously. “Keep the receipt until your account agrees with the actual price of your alternator and you’ve been refunded. Again, I’m sorry.”

I chuckled silently as I mentally reminded myself I would have made the same mistake had I been in his shoes.

“It’s okay, Sir. We trust you.” I smiled warmly, trying to put the gentle man at ease. But instead of bringing peace, I obviously confused him.

“Trust? Trust me? Why would you trust me? You don’t even know me!” He exclaimed in shock.

“I don’t need to trust you,” I said gently. “I trust a God who happens to be bigger than you. Knowing Him makes this perfectly fine.”

He smiled and nodded in response, with a certain gleam in his eye. I recognized that look all too well. He wanted to call me foolish, naïve, stupid, awkward or all of the above. But he knew he couldn’t verbalize such insults.

The reality is, when it comes to proclaiming Jesus, I’ve come to accept that the world thinks less of me. What they consider an insult is actually a small reminder to my soul that Christ really has changed me and made me like Himself.

So, Christian, when was the last time those around you called you a fool for Christ? Did it make you smile? It certainly makes Jesus smile.

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~ Written by Viki Rife

It’s kind of mind-blowing. Jesus’ disciples came to Him and said, “Increase our faith!” Great request!

He affirmed its value by saying, “If you had faith like a grain of mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you” (Luke 17:6).

Then He launched into a discussion about a servant out plowing the field or keeping sheep. When the servant comes in, does his master offer to serve him? No. The master tells him to prepare and serve him a meal, and then the servant can sit down and eat.

Then Jesus says, “Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded?” Of course, the answer is that he doesn’t owe the servant a “thank you” for doing his job. Jesus concludes by saying, “So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’”

Could it be that the two concepts tie together? Could it be that an understanding of God’s authority helps us gain perspective and increase our trust in Him? Those who are looking for glory or appreciation for themselves will not have the faith to accomplish the great deeds they dream of. Only those who are humble enough to fully accept God’s Lordship will have a faith that grows.

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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

“Please tell your story to my daughter,” my friend wrote. “She needs to know there’s hope.”

As I read my friend’s request, I was shocked at the bittersweet emotions her plea conjured up within me. I was thankful she saw Christ in my journey, and there was nothing I wanted more than to point others to my Jesus. But to share my story meant I had to journey down a memory lane I tried so very hard to forget.

After sharing my story, I was reminded of the biblical practice to lay down stones of remembrance. In 1st Samuel, the prophet Samuel laid down an “Ebenezer” to remind all the generations to follow of the victory God had granted Israel. Every time the Israelites walked by the Ebenezer, it was to spur on memories.

They had two choices. They could either remember the strain and heartache of war, or they could remember that Yahweh was their Victory. Regardless of the memory the Ebenezer stone made them focus on, they had to remember the battle itself.

No one likes to think about heartache, or talk about a season where they felt abandoned by God. Too often, I’ve begged God to erase my memory of those times because the memories are too hurtful. But then I’m reminded that without the memory of pain, I wouldn’t have proof of God’s faithfulness.

My Ebenezer stone isn’t the heart filled with scars. No, my Ebenezer stone is my soul’s redemption handed to me by my ever-faithful God.

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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

Rarely has God woken me up in the middle of the night to sit at His feet in prayer. Typically, when I’m awakened past the midnight hour, my prayer is a simple, “Jesus, please, put me back asleep.” But the other night, my eyes weren’t tired, my heart kept racing, and I heard the Spirit whisper, “Get up, Child. We need to talk.”

I’ll be honest, I laid in bed counting ceiling tiles for a few minutes. My alarm would officially wake me up in five hours; God could wait till then, right? But before I knew it, I was on the couch with my prayer journal in hand. The second I wrote the words, “Hi, Abba Daddy,” the tears flowed with heart-wrenching intensity.

In the previous 48 hours, my hopes and anticipations for the future had been crushed. No one knew about it other than my husband, and life had continued on at a breakneck speed. The only healing I’d allowed my heart was a quick, “Thanks Jesus; you’re sovereign. We’re trusting you.” I hadn’t taken the time to realize how broken my spirit was, or to acknowledge the self-resenting lies my disappointments had created.

I learned that night what it meant to be honest before the Lord. I had to let myself weep till there were no more tears. I had to actively acknowledge the lies before the Spirit could refresh my heart with truth. I had to sit in silence before God could administer healing I didn’t realize I needed. I had to be broken before I was ready to receive truth which brought me closer to the heart of my Heavenly Father.

There are moments God requires us to go through more pain before He brings healing. It doesn’t make sense at first. But the reality is, God is not afraid of our tears. He knows exactly when all we need is to be held and reminded that we’re loved.

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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

They were promised no one on the ship would die. Their voyage was divinely promised safety. For those on the ship with Paul in Acts 27, though, the squalling winds and terrifying leaks on their vessel didn’t encourage thoughts of safety. As the crew unloaded valuables into the towering waves, there had to be only one thought shared among the men.

Paul’s God isn’t with us. We’re going to die.

But then, Paul says something which seems even crazier. “We’ll all be safe, but first we will run aground.” Paul didn’t sound apologetic. He was simply repeating what the Angel of the Lord had told him. Safety, but not without risk. Life, but not without pain.

Too often, I find myself complaining to God, “You said you’d be faithful! You said I’d prosper! This pain doesn’t look like prosperity. It looks like torture. Where are you?”

Only when I stop to realize the God who holds my life and prosperity in His hands is the same God who sees the big picture, do I stop to thank Him for my own “shipwrecks.” After all, without those terrifying experiences, I may never have had the opportunity to test God’s divine faithfulness. Those shipwrecks taught me my God’s faithfulness never fails.

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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

I’d never ridden a horse. I’m fairly certain I was clueless in regards to chariots. But that didn’t matter. Memorizing a Bible verse about chariots and horses was exciting and mysterious. I loved declaring my trust in the Lord my God alone as I quoted Psalm 20.

For an innocent kid, it was an easy declaration. As life grew more intense and lonely, as everyone’s life does, declaring my trust in Christ got harder. Did I trust Him when my family seemed as if it was falling apart? Did I trust Him when health problems stole my childish abandon at an early age? Did I actually trust Him more than any other resource my life provided? Could I?

I had my moments of doubt. Honestly, I had my seasons of doubt that Christ was enough. Why should He be enough, when the comfort of money and modern medicine were easily accessible? However, as I look back on nearly 30 years of life, I’m refreshed by a very tangible truth.

The things I could depend on in addition to, or instead of, Christ, will always fail at some point. Though there have been moments where God hasn’t done exactly what I wanted Him to do, He does, in fact, keep His promise.

He always answers me when I call out to Him. My life has tested His faithfulness, and His faithfulness has never been found wanting.

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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

“I wish someone would make sure the children were quiet,” she said in exasperation. “This is church, after all.” I smiled at the woman’s complaint. I, too, was raised to believe children were to be seen and not heard — especially while sitting in a pew!

Despite being raised to cringe at noise during a church service, nowadays I can’t help but chuckle at the unabashed squeals, the stage-whispered questions, or unrelenting cries of the youngest generation. They don’t really seem to care what other people think of their behavior. The Bible calls us to have childlike faith. What’s more childlike than making your presence known before Jesus whether you’re laughing, screaming, joyful, scared, confused, or impatient?

Every time I hear the squawk of a kiddo, I’m reminded of Jesus commanding the disciples to let the children come to Him (Mark 10:14). He didn’t specify the children had to be on their best behavior, or in a good mood. He just told them to come—end of story.

What would happen to our faith journeys if we came to Him as uninhibited as children do?

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