chalk marker and paint on masonite board
Our focus is on the downtrodden these days. Maybe it’s the media. Or the internet with its potent visuals making the world that much smaller. Maybe more of us are finding ourselves among their ranks, or dangerously close. Maybe the reality that it could happen to us brings it closer to home. Whatever the reason, […]
I was an urban professional with a preference for black and steel walking into a family of colonial country plaid and floral.
The kid in the first row, sitting up straight with hands folded, eyes on the teacher — that was me (long ago when students did such things). I know how to meet expectations. I can sense people’s expectations a mile away, and I have this morbid fear of disappointing anyone, of dropping the ball. This […]
I had thought I could always go home. But suddenly I realized I didn’t know how. My trail of crumbs had long been eaten. I had lost my way.
We did our first Financial Peace University (FPU) class this weekend. Dave Ramsey himself (the founder) admits the concepts are little more than common sense, certainly nothing revolutionary. The genius is his repackaging and marketing. Lest you think I begrudge his piece of the American Pie, let me just say I admire his creativity and […]
Hagar had always been carried along by the current of other people’s lives. In Egypt she had been sold as a slave to the highest bidder. Abraham bought her and Sarah took her as her personal servant. They had brought her to Canaan, and then quite unexpectedly, her own body, her womb, had been called into service.
Surely he had anticipated their lives would be in danger. Would he now return to Canaan alone? And what would become of Sarai? Would he ever see her again? Had he completely misunderstood God’s plan?
The woman had never paid much attention to the serpent, not that she could recall. He had stayed on the periphery, his voice interjecting occasionally, but always under the radar.
God did things his way and in his time, and things were not always what they seemed. He could be trusted, but he was not predictable. This much he had learned, or perhaps was still learning. How could he explain this to Sarah? How could he expect her to hope again when he could give her none of the assurances she would expect?
Abraham turned to his son, the rope stretched between trembling hands. Isaac looked at his father, and a hoarse whisper escaped his lips, “Father … .”
In the harem, Sarah waited. She waited to be called in to King Abimelech, or for someone — Abraham, God? — to come to her rescue. One day dragged into the next, and still nothing. God had said she and Abraham would have a child next year. Now Abraham had ruined everything. But why hadn’t God stopped him?