Healed

By Makenzie Allen –

In my previous article, I wrote about how God is the greatest scientist. He created science in the beginning and still follows the laws of science today. God can also use science in miraculous ways. Two years ago, I was able to experience one way God can use science.

There I was, smile on my face, but despairing inwardly. The eyes that crinkled at the sides along with my cover-up smile were really shedding tears of confusion and hurt when I was alone. The laugh that poured from me was robotic and well-rehearsed, nothing about it bubbly or real. From the outside, it probably looked like I had it all together. Inside, I sure didn’t.

I sat alongside my family as we listened to a man speaking of miracles God had done through him to people who were broken. Stories of men regaining sight, people who knew nothing except darkness but finally found the light and thrived, of limbs being healed, and many other forms of restoration. In the pew, I was wishing my depression had a reason for being there. I had no limbs that needed restoring, I was just weary. It bothered me that I wasn’t stronger.

As the man ended his sermon, he asked all who needed healing to come forward. I felt an urging to go. Telling myself I should be strong and move on, I sat stubbornly. I felt a nudge again. And as fewer people began to file past me down the aisle, I stood and went forward. I remember thinking, this really isn’t a big enough deal to have people pray over you for. You’re depressed, don’t waste their time just because you are being weak.

I reached the man who spoke of healing. He rested his hand on my head and gently pressed me to the ground where I began to sob. I shook so violently as I cried that to this day I don’t know most of what he and the others huddled around prayed for me. I just hugged my knees with one hand and clutched my little necklace that says “faith” with the other as I cried long and hard. “Give me faith Lord, give me faith in You.” I prayed in between sobs.

People exited the building and whoa! That sunset and I were neck and neck for who was brightest. I felt alive again, like God had touched me and at His presence oppression must flee for fear. I couldn’t hold back the smile on my face that was aimed right for the heavens where I imagined my Lord smiling right back. I climbed into the car and couldn’t hold it all in anymore.

“It was the strangest thing, when they were praying for me I felt this heat come over me,” I said.

“When you feel a warmth like that it is usually a sign of healing from God,” Mom replied.

Recently in Chemistry class, we learned that heat is actually raw energy. As I was pondering science and talking with God, it hit me. Heat is a sign of healing from God. And heat is energy. So God literally gives you the energy to overcome the wounds sin has inflicted. Whether physically, mentally, or spiritually, we are all handicapped by the hold sin has on our world.

God gave me energy. Exactly what I needed to banish the oppression that had taken hold of my life. I look back and smile at that moment of pure joy, the moment when God filled me with His insurmountable power and energy. Though I didn’t see Him that night, I felt Him.

“Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and even though you do not see Him now, you have believed in Him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy” (1 Peter 1:8 NIV).

Come

By Heather Allen –

She grips a fistful of buttons and his small collar. Her face reddens with irritation.

His eyes are dull, his face expressionless.

I hold my breath, ire rising, knuckles clenched. I begin pacing between the racks of clothing, hovering within fifteen feet.

She reeks hatred and lets loose an inch from his face, releasing him with a hard shove.

He trips backward. His face remains impassive.

Mine contorts for him. I’m not strong and she’s bulky. In the moment, it doesn’t matter. I’m ready to stand toe to toe with her. For his sake.

In Your soft, still way You remind me to seek You first, so I walk in circles to the beat of my anger. Trying to calm my shaking legs and queasy stomach. “Beloved, let us love one another.”

“Lord, how? How do I show this woman love?” And in my soul, I know she needs love, not shame. My feelings do not reflect this, but You dwell in me, You are love. I walk toward her.

She raises her hand defensively, palm out.

“I was watching your children play and your daughter tripped, your son did not hurt her,” I say quickly.

She scowls. “I don’t need parenting advice, so bye-bye.”

I want to contradict her, but instead I speak with a bit more authority. “I’m not here to give you advice, but rather a compliment on your child’s behavior. Your son is a great big brother.” My eyes shift down toward his little face. He is still on the floor. “He was kind and concerned when his sister fell, she slipped on a hanger. He merely tried to help her up.”

She stares at me with hard eyes. “He is not your concern.”

I lower my voice. “Actually he is. You both are.”

She stares at me incredulous.

Silence hangs between us. My words feel foreign as I stumble on. She knows it was wrong. God built that into each of us. I look her in the eyes, longing to water her soul.

The sadness is palpable as I turn and walk away. For her. For him. For what an unredeemed future holds. I think of a picture that hung on my Sunday school class’ wall. Jesus, arms extended with children piling on his lap. His words warning the disciples captured at the edge of the frame.

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these” (Mark 10:14 NIV).

In a world of generous wrath, there is a counterpart. A God of generous love.

Christ beckons “Come.” Lay down the anger, and shame. Break chains of habit. Fight the enemy that has taken you captive.

I quietly converse with the store manager and take short, pondered steps to my car.

I thought the perpetrator was the enemy. I was wrong. That woman is not the enemy, Satan is. I think he hopes we will be just angry, offended, and ashamed enough to think there is nothing more for us. No salvation possible, only despair and depravity ahead. I know that is not the case.

I have witnessed a grand resurrection from the dead in my own life. I am a redeemed sinner, charged to help others find their way home.

Unbridled Joy in Community

By Diane Mayfield –

I am filled with joy today, filled to overflowing.

I asked God what to write about this month. I presented Him with several options, such as sitting in the hospital waiting room with my dear friend and sister in Christ while her forty-two-year-old daughter underwent breast cancer surgery.

Other options flooded my thoughts as I talked with God. I could write about my girls’ trip to the beach. Six Christ followers talking, laughing, praying and crying with each other over a four day trip. We were brought together by our love for movies and the Savior—not in that order I hope.

A third option was to write about standing with my sister as she goes through the process of ending a twenty-four- year marriage.

One other choice is the joy of planning a wedding shower for a friend I’ve known for thirty-three years. At times she questioned whether she would ever know the joy of her daughter finding a life companion. What an answer to prayer!

Which one of these, Lord, do I write about? Pondering as I often do, I was aware of the feeling of abundant joy and peace in the midst of my quandary. Why? What about all of these options produced such a response?

It’s the joy of Christian community. For years I’ve prayed for a real sense of Christian community, a sense of Christian family. I wanted the real, authentic kind where you are so different, but you love each other anyway. It’s sharing the nitty gritty of daily living life together, not just saying hello or shaking hands on Sunday morning.

What God has given to me now is not because of my children’s activities, though when I was raising my children, I deeply valued those friendships, or my husband’s work or even my work. These are relationships based solely on Jesus. He is the starting point.

What’s so overwhelming is that I never dreamed at this stage of life, an empty nester and grandmother, I’d have the joy of new relationships in Jesus as well as the treasured friendships of years past. I am richly blessed by His gift of this Christian community.

So, whether it’s praying with a small group family enduring a life-altering accident with their grandson or the joy of a much prayed for and highly anticipated wedding, Christian community provides an abundance of joy. It’s a blessing and a privilege to be involved in others’ lives at each turn of the journey.

As I sat in the hospital waiting room at MD Anderson Cancer Center with my dear friend, we ate, we talked, we laughed, we walked and most of all, we just waited. The waiting seemed to last forever. When it was unbearable, we prayed. Then the surgeon came out and said the words we longed to hear. “All went very well. There is no cancer in the lymph nodes.” Then we cried and hugged and rejoiced.

So, today, when I think through all these events, and these are just a few, I am filled with joy. My life is abundant because of the Christian family God has given me. For me it is the richest of blessings

“Thank you, my Lord, for the incomparable gifts of your riches that I experience in this dear Christian family.”

Lessons Learned from Downton Abbey

Diane Mayfield –

I’m obsessed with Downton Abbey. I cannot get my mind off it. While I was sick, I watched Seasons I, II, and even III, non-stop. I love the clothes, the glamour, and the big house. I love the downstairs drama and the upstairs drama. I think about the characters constantly. I’m even having conversations with them in my dreams.

For those who are not familiar with the English drama presented by Masterpiece theatre, here’s a short summary. Downton Abbey, located just outside London, is the inherited estate of Lord and Lady Grantham and their three adult daughters. It has been in the family for generations. The story revolves around the lives of the upstairs aristocratic Grantham’s and the downstairs family of servants that care for them and the home. I hate to admit it, but I long to be part of the aristocracy.

Finally, I had to confess to Jesus my obsession. It was actually interfering with my conversations with Him. I just had to get it all out on the table. It seems so wrong to be focused on such worldly, temporary concerns, and to want a life of elitism. This is what He showed me.

After my confession, in His forever-gentle way, He helped me to see what eternal value I could glean from my obsession with this show.

In Jesus, I am an aristocrat. I am the daughter of a king and not just any king, the King of Kings. He has built a place for me, a mansion, just like Downton Abbey is a mansion. Lord Grantham didn’t gain Downton Abbey by his own hard work. He was born into it and inherited it. I too will inherit my eternal home not by works but by faith in the blood of my Lord.

My pastor even drove this home yesterday when speaking about who we were created to be in the beginning. According to him, we were created “kings of the earth, to rule over all God’s creation” until Adam made a wrong choice, ate from the apple and sin entered the world. Now we live on this earth as tillers of the soil and not kings and queens, not yet anyway.

At one point in the show, Lord Grantham says how he views his responsibilities as the Lord of the Manor. He is the custodian of Downton Abbey. His job is to care for it and provide for those who depend upon it for their livelihood. I too am a custodian of all I have been given, which includes spiritual gifts and talents as well as material blessings. Most importantly, I am a vessel of God’s love and grace, a reflection of His image on earth. I have a responsibility to pass all this on to those God has entrusted to my care and whomever He brings into my life.

So, there’s no need for lusting or obsessing about this show. Instead, it is a vision of who I am in Jesus and a picture of where I will be for all eternity, serving my King in the place He prepares for me.

There is one aspect of the show that I am ashamed I don’t long for. I’m not lusting for the downstairs life of the servants. Their clothes are simple, their rooms are sparse, and their lives are not their own. They live to serve the upstairs family. They show deep respect for the aristocracy and acceptance of their position in life. I can certainly learn from such devotion.

The next time I sit down to watch this masterful production, hopefully my focus won’t just be on the promise of the Downton Abbey to come, but also on the servant’s heart demonstrated by the downstairs people. After all, my Lord did come to serve and not be served.

God, help me to be as you are, to focus on serving others while hoping for the promise of what’s to come.

Eight Electrons

By Makenzie Allen –

You know what I love about God? He was, is, and forever will be the greatest scientist to ever live. Not in the sense that He studies and hypothesizes about things He cannot understand. God is a scientist because He created everything using the laws of science, which He engineered. He is the greatest because He designed science itself. You know Adam? Made out of dust, as soon as God commanded. You know atoms? God thought those up during His spare time. Which we all know was zilch time. Since when does God have spare time anyway? I can imagine Him speaking to the angels, “Schedule me a quiet time right between when those dear little children are praying to me and when those clanging cymbals need to be reminded for the seventy-seven times seventh time that stealing doesn’t go unpunished.”

So, in the beginning, God created Adam. And the atoms.

While it took God no time at all to come up with the atom, it has taken some of the greatest scientists centuries to come up with a model of what the atom could be composed of. And the model we now have as our closest representation is still just that, close, but not complete.

This year I am taking a chemistry class, which has sparked my love and fascination for science to a whole new level of awe. One night I sat in bed doing chemistry homework as my friend from Ohio read beside me. Sophia is her name. I call her Soph out of habit. Soph is amazing. She inspires and challenges me to not just offer a place in my heart to God, but to offer my whole heart and life to Him.

As I was drawing molecules—yes molecules. I was stoked!—a thought struck me. “Soph, you know what’s crazy?”

“What?” Soph asked, looking up from her book.

“Everything, not just people, but everything in some way is trying to gain perfection.”

Soph looked at me with curiosity and turned her full attention to me as I tried to explain.

Atoms are made up of three basic parts: the protons, neutrons, and electrons. Of the three, electrons are the most important part as far as chemistry goes. And every atom besides hydrogen has a strong desire for eight specific electrons. Once an atom has eight specific electrons, it is considered perfect and is satisfied.

In this world, perfection is something we all strive for in some way or another. As atoms try to gain eight electrons to be perfect, we might try to lose eight pounds.

“For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot perform it. I have the intention and urge to do what is right, but no power to carry it out” (Romans 7:18, AMP).

No, we cannot achieve perfection. And God has not asked us to, not on our own. Adam’s descendants, and the atoms, can only attain perfection by the power of their Savior. As Paul said, we have not the power to carry it out. But then, God does. God has the power and by Him we are made perfect, whole, and washed clean. And on that beautiful day, when I am brought to my Father’s house, He will see His power in me, and not the imperfections and insecurities that I was bound to as a fallen human.

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