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~ Written by Viki Rife

The summer I was 15, a friend we were visiting took my family to the top of the incline overlooking Johnstown, Pennsylvania. As he was describing the disastrous flood that had once hit the city, I stood looking down at the homes below. “How many people in this town know Jesus?” I asked myself. “What would happen to them if another flood came?”

My mind immediately went into problem-solving mode. “I could come back with a bunch of friends, and we could knock on every door in the city and ask whether anyone knows Jesus in that home. If no one does, we could offer to tell them.” I even picked out a big white house with a round porch that would serve as a starting point.

My brain continued by trying to calculate how many friends it would take and how long we would need to stay. I ended up concluding that it would take ten of us all summer to get to every door. Then I remembered that back home in California I didn’t even have three friends who cared enough about the lost to dedicate their whole summer to such an endeavor.

Something in me at that moment pleaded, “Lord, could you somehow make it happen anyway?”

The whole thing might have been dismissed as childish dreaming. That’s what I thought as I grew older, feeling a bit embarrassed for such foolish thoughts. But almost 30 years later I found myself standing in front of the big white house, talking to a man recovering from drug addiction. I had been recruited to help as a leader with The Blitz, an outreach day during Brethren National Youth Conference (now Momentum).

Almost 2,000 people were participating that day. Our goal? To knock on every door in Johnstown and offer to share the gospel. There were 200 times as many people as I had asked for, and it took one day instead of a whole summer. What a great reminder that to God, our prayers are never embarrassing!

If you see prayer as an important part of walking with God, please consider joining us at the Soul Cry retreat at Camp Conquest in Pennsylvania in September. Click here for more details. 

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~ Written by Viki Rife

“Blame my dad.” That was my answer when a friend, somewhat annoyed, said, “Do you have to spiritualize everything?”

To my dad, everything was an illustration of a spiritual reality. He took his cue from Jesus, turning anything in life into a teachable moment. Even when I was too young to fully understand it, he would point out a butterfly and tell me about how its time in a cocoon transformed it. Packing our barrels for the mission field became a reminder that we must prepare well for our spiritual journey (any other MKs remember taking jars of peanut butter or else we wouldn’t taste it for the next five years?).

Dad was a master at object lessons. Our evening family devotions included healthy doses of them. I still remember when he put different powders in water until it turned black, then poured in some red liquid and the water became clear again. My young heart embraced the illustration that Jesus could remove all sin.

I couldn’t yet have been five when he used an illustration that has deeply affected my life. He borrowed a spool of black thread from Mom and had me hold out my wrists. He wrapped the thread around them once and asked me to break out. It was a bit hard, but I did it. Then he wrapped the thread around my wrists five or six times and asked me to break out again. It was impossible.

He went on to tell me that sin was like that. You try it once and you might be able to escape. But it might make you overconfident, and as you continue to allow it in your life it will trap you. He used the object lesson to help me understand the meaning of the word “addiction.” It left me with a healthy fear of dabbling in something that could entangle me.

As a parent, Dad took seriously the command in Deuteronomy 6 to teach God’s laws to his children. It sounds as if maybe God meant for us to spiritualize everything!

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~ Written by Viki Rife

The feds are watching our barnyard. There’s actually a sign to let people know.

The sign says, “Do not climb tower! Federally protected migratory bird nest.” It’s by the cell phone relay tower that sits in our barnyard.

The endangered osprey first appeared about six summers ago. We saw them circling the tower with precious building materials, fighting to gain altitude because of their load. Soon, we heard the unmistakable cry of the fledglings in their nest, always hungry.

By the next summer, there was no doubt the nest had attracted the attention of officials. We would arrive home to find conservation officers parked in our driveway, intently peering at the top of the tower through their binoculars.

I find myself wishing that human babies were protected the way these eggs are. While I love sharing our barnyard with these interesting birds, something inside me cries about the injustice of the mixed-up priorities of our society.

This issue is only the tip of the iceberg. My prayer is that, as a country, we will learn to value what God values. Will you join me in that prayer? God is able to turn our countrymen’s hearts to His desires as we band together in prayer.

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~ Written by Viki Rife

One of the greatest keys to success I’ve ever heard came from a comedian. He asked his brother, a successful business entrepreneur, what the secret was to his success.

His brother answered, “Well, you’ve seen all the episodes of Jersey Shore, right? When the comedian answered that he had, his brother simply said, “I haven’t.”

Most of us would say we desire to be successful in developing a relationship with God. However, we quickly forget that in order to accomplish something, we have to give up something. Truly knowing God requires sacrificing something we might like for something more valuable in the long run.

As with any other value in our lives, we will succeed only in what we invest in. Our time with God should not be our day’s leftovers, but rather the central focus that overrides every other option. 

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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

I’ve experienced seasons which left me seemingly drowning in hopelessness. I knew my Savior was Jesus Christ. I knew my eternity was secure in Him. I knew the Truth of the Gospel. But despite that knowledge, I felt weighed down, pointless and distraught. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Those were not fun times. They aren’t necessarily seasons I enjoy remembering. However, I still find myself wandering back to those memories and pondering what I learned despite my less-than-desirable emotions and circumstances.

The reality was, my hopeless, and seemingly pointless, season taught me to fall to my knees. The anguish in my heart forced me to not only darken the door of the Throne Room, but to run and fall into the arms of my Heavenly Father. In those seasons of hopelessness, I needed my Creator-Savior in a way I rarely had before.

It’s because of such intimate moments with God that I’ve learned to treasure those hurtful and heartbreaking seasons. I may have lost almost everything I held dear, but I gained the sweetest intimacy of all. I gained a deeper understanding of the faithfulness of Christ. 

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~ Written by Viki Rife

It’s time to speak up about fathers. Our society has become increasing hostile to the role of fathers in the family. Movies and sitcoms portray fathers as more of a hindrance than a help to their families. The concept of an absentee or clueless father seems to be the norm today.

As strong women who live by God’s values, we can have a part in helping our men reclaim their place in the family. This is not accomplished by reminding them of their failures.

Instead, we need to treat them with respect and consideration, and model for our children and grandchildren the importance we attach to their role. We need to affirm their strengths and their wise choices. Our support of dads can free our men to receive with joy the responsibility God has placed on them as fathers. 

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~ Written by Viki Rife 

It happened during Christmas break from college my freshman year. During the break between Sunday School and church I stopped at the bathroom. I heard a mom bring her preschooler into the next stall. The youngster asked a question that had apparently been triggered by something he had heard in his children’s class. I held my breath. It was a tricky question. I felt sorry for the mother.

While I don’t remember the question any more, or what she said, I remember thinking, “Wow, you really need to know your theology to be a mom!” It awakened in me a desire to dig into God’s Word so that someday I would be a wise mom who knew how to take advantage of her child’s curiosity to point them to God’s truth.

I don’t think that mom knew how important her child’s question was, not just for him, but for a shy college student in the next stall. Her biblical perspective inspires me to this day. Thank you, dear friend—you never volunteered to be my mentor, but you are!

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