The Needling
I know. The devil is a master at needling your heart.
There is a walk with Jesus that is utterly narrow. You’ll have to crucify every opportunity to compromise holiness and righteousness.
There’s a little girl inside of some of you who is aching to get out. She’s been hiding for years herself to keep safe.
Desperation can destroy quickly a plan of God. The royal priest that is unable to wait upon the Lord will position people wrongly.
Some things are simply meant to sharpen you. There was something in that dreaded place that you needed to learn.
The poet is but a melodic mute
Without trials that stir up rhyme
The writer has nothing to say
If Jesus has not been given his time.
Pride is a terrible thing.
A stubborn bent that keeps us reeling.
That which lies in wait to ruin beautiful plans of the Lord.
Some of you have felt alone on a deserted island. Like a castaway lost at sea.
Woven within you are miracles waiting to happen. Special seasons already written in the book full of good works that have been stored up just for you.
There is but only one to which I must answer. Only one who can call me out of the quiver. It is His will that I must be sure I’m surrendering to.