Habakkuk 2: 2-3 And the Lord answered me, and said, Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. (3) For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry.
As I lay in bed, the stillness of the night wrapped around me like a heavy blanket sleep completely eluded me. Countless thoughts swirled chaotically in my mind, each vying for my attention. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall punctuated the silence, reminding me of the hours slipping away. It was in that moment that I clearly heard the Lord speak to me, saying, “Offense is a blessing blocker and a destroyer of destiny.” God had a storehouse of blessings for me, and being offended isn’t worth losing what God had in store for me! I got out of bed to write about offenses.
Proverbs 18:19 illustrates the deep impact of grievances among brethren, declaring, “A brother offended is more unyielding than a strong city, and quarreling is like the bars of a castle.” This vivid imagery conveys the fortified nature of a relationship wounded by offense, suggesting that once trust is breached, it becomes as difficult to penetrate as the walls of a mighty fortress.
Similarly, in His teachings, Jesus conveyed the inevitability of offenses in human relationships, stating, “It is impossible but that offences will come: but woe unto him, through whom they come!”— Luke 17:1 KJV. Here, He acknowledges the reality of conflicts and misunderstandings that are bound to arise, while emphasizing the serious consequences for those who facilitate such discord among themselves. A year ago, I experienced a profound moment of revelation that truly liberated me from my pain. In that stillness, God’s voice gently resonated within me, offering comfort and wisdom. He said, “Darlene, you don’t need to burden yourself with the opinions others hold or the way they choose to treat you. Release those worries to Me, and trust that I will handle it in My own way.” His answer filled my heart with peace, reminding me to let go of what I cannot control so that I wouldn’t block my blessing or destroy my destiny.
I’ve come to a profound realization: if we are not vigilant and intentional, we risk becoming like those who hurt us. It’s all too easy to let the malice and negativity of others shape our behavior and mindset. We must guard against this transformation, for we do not want to morph into something unrecognizable, driven by the harmful intentions of those around us.
“If God be for us, who can be against us?” — Romans 8:31 KJV
One day God said, “Darlene, when I say, yes, then who can say, no?” When we know that God is on our side and we have His approval, the opinions of others lose their significance. Their judgments and criticisms fade away in the light of His unwavering support and love, reminding us that our true worth comes from Him alone.
“The people who sat in darkness saw great light; and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light is sprung up.” Matthew 4:16 KJV
As a fifteen-year-old teenager, I struggled between life and death.
Self-mutilation became my source of relief. Several friends encouraged me to try it. The experience gave me a high. Of course, it doesn’t make sense. How can tearing into the skin with razors and glass cause one to feel high? It’s just as addictive as drugs, alcohol, or anything else. I’ll get into that another time. I couldn’t handle the physical and mental abuse any longer! No one cared! No one listened. Everything behind closed doors stayed there. No one believed me anyway!
Chains of depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies lured me into a cold atmosphere. I felt nothing except a sense of justification and liberation. There was no empathy, concern, joy, or awareness of goodness; everyone around me was completely shut out. The thirty pills prescribed by the psychiatrist only worsened my condition. Pain upon pain built a wall between me, God, and everyone else.
Every church I entered rejected me after seeing me dressed in black from head to toe, with dream catcher earrings hanging from my ears and dark makeup on my face. “Can’t you wear something different? Do you have to come like that? This is the house of God.” Many pastors and church members passed me by with disgust. After being turned away five times, I decided to convert to necromancy. What else could I believe? Apparently, I was destined for hell. I belonged to darkness. If there was a God, and if Jesus really did die and resurrect, He didn’t want to waste time on me, or so I had rehearsed in my thoughts.
Cutting became more than just getting high. “Witch— that’s what I want to be, a full-pledge witch!” You name it: tarot cards, palm reading, spell books, seances! I participated.
As I ambled down the familiar path home from town, a woman approached me, her condemning demeanor earnest and inviting as she spoke of her church. Her words tumbled out, heavy with conviction, proclaiming that my current path led straight to hell. With a sardonic chuckle, I shot back, “Tell me something I don’t know!” The stark black polish on my nails stood in sharp contrast to the vibrant autumn leaves scattered around me, and I felt my frustration bubble to the surface.
I clutched the torn pages of a once-sacred text in my hand, now reduced to confetti-like scraps after an impassioned encounter. As I completed my retort, the remnants of that biblical literature flew from my fist, fluttering through the air like a mocking testament to my defiance, landing right in her startled face. “I’ve been there before; the church is crawling with hypocrites!” The bitterness in my voice echoed the painful memories of my past, memories that weighed heavily on my chest, driving me further from the warmth of my grandmother’s love. I couldn’t bring myself to bridge that chasm, not now, not ever.
Allow me to clarify my point: Dismissing the existence of demonic powers and choosing to ignore them does not eliminate their presence or influence. Whether or not you believe in them, these forces remain a part of the unseen world, operating beyond our understanding.
I first came to know my grandmother in 1999. She was a steadfast woman of God, and her unwavering devotion was evident in her relentless prayers. Day after day, she and a lady named Bonnie Miller, whom she mentored, dedicated themselves to prayer and fasting, their hearts filled with hope and love for me. Her prayers, like a gentle but persistent tide, flowed unceasingly as they interceded on my behalf.
As my sister and I strolled down the shadowy street, the cold air of the night wrapped around us like a heavy blanket. It was one o’clock in the morning, and the only sounds were the soft rustle of leaves and our quiet footsteps echoing against the pavement. In that moment, I found myself caught in a relentless internal battle, a tug of war between contrasting voices in my mind.
“Wouldn’t you like to go to church?” one voice urged gently, offering the promise of solace. “You can be free of all this. There’s hope, a new beginning waiting for you.” But just as swiftly, another voice surged up, sharp and bitter. “Remember what happened? You aren’t welcome in the church—any church! You’ll never escape the pain that clings to you like a ghost.” The memories surged forth, unbidden, of harsh words and painful moments. “Remember what your dad did to you? You’re nothing! He said it; they all said it at school. You’re a disgrace to God!”
The echoes of their taunts reverberated through my mind, fueling the war between good and evil. Each side fought fiercely, amplifying my confusion and despair, while the darkness around us deepened, reflecting the turmoil within.
One night, I dreamt of a Man hanging on the cross. Lightning lit the sky. Thunder shook the foundation of the earth. Muscle and skin hung from His bloody, disfigured torso like shredded sheets. He was unrecognizable. No longer was I distant; I suddenly found myself at His feet. Slowly, as I looked up, His blood dripped on me.
The dreams persisted, hunting me night after night. I was uncomfortable not understanding His marvelous light. No matter what I tried, it felt impossible to silence my thoughts. I engaged in countless distractions, attempting to drown out dreams compelling me to the truth, His truth. Yet, amidst this internal chaos, a flicker of hope remained: God always prevails!
Darkness struck back with a vengeance, transforming my once empowering confidence into a paralyzing vulnerability. Questions swirled inside my mind like a relentless storm: “Who am I? What am I?” Fear held me captive through the long, restless nights, leaving me in a state of raw anxiety. Countless times, I jolted awake, gasping for breath as if something sinister were slithering across my skin—its presence accompanied by eerie laughter and hushed, mocking whispers that taunted me from the shadows. The struggle continued throughout the day, casting a shroud of weariness over my body, while waves of nausea and confusion crashed over me, leaving me exhausted and disoriented. Each moment was a battle against an unseen force, tightening its grip with every passing hour.
On several accounts, I attempted suicide by tightening a cord in a knot around my neck. My middle sister pressed her shoulder against the wooden door with all her might, straining against the heavy resistance. As she pushed, the latch gave way with a resounding crack, splintering the lock. With a swift movement, she ran to my side, removing the cord from my neck in a determination to snap me out of the anxiety attack. I took overdoses of valium, anything that kept me from thinking.
I found myself captivated by graveyards, those solemn plots of land where the whispers of the past seemed to linger in the air. I would often wander among the tombstones, hoping for a glimpse of a spirit that might steer me toward the answers I so desperately sought. It was a particularly chilly evening in late October, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long, looming shadows, when an unfathomable pull guided my footsteps toward Bonnie’s home. Her house sat along the same winding road that led to the graveyard, its silhouette barely visible against the darkening sky.
As I approached, I can say that the answers I sought for that night came from a holy source. Instead, they emerged from the One who conquered death itself. Dressed in my signature black ensemble, complete with razor-cut sleeves and talismanic jewelry that clinked softly with each step, I felt a strange sense of comfort. My makeup, dark and dramatic, could not mask the profound influence of the Holy Ghost that enveloped me, igniting a power far greater than the darkness that held me captive!
At the age of twenty-five, I finally opened my heart to my grandmother, embracing her presence in my life. It all started when she graciously invited me to attend Bible studies hosted by her dear friend Bonnie in her cozy home.
With warmth and sincerity, Grandma’s friend extended an invitation for me to experience a Pentecostal service in my hometown of Richwood, West Virginia. The genuine love and kindness exuded by both of these remarkable women transformed my perspective on Christianity. It became clear to me that their concern for my well-being was sincere and profound; they truly cared for me in a way I had never experienced before.
That Sunday morning, an unfamiliar heaviness settled upon my spirit, a stark contrast to the joy surrounding me. As the new friend I had met performed a heartfelt rendition of “There’s a Miracle in Every Pew” by Aaron Wilburn, a wave of sorrow washed over me, revealing the depths of my own misery. I could feel the gazes of the congregation piercing through the air, but the thought of their judgment was rendered insignificant in that pivotal moment. With a determined heart, I made my way to the altar, each step heavy yet purposeful.
Kneeling down, I cried out, “God, I can’t carry this burden any longer! I can’t continue like this; please take this weight from me and do with me as you choose!” The atmosphere shifted around me, and in that sacred space, I felt the undeniable presence of God enveloping me like a warm embrace. Drenched in His love, mercy, and grace, I laid all my broken pieces before Him, vulnerable and raw.
In that transformative instant, something shifted within me; I was no longer the same. The chains that had long bound me began to shatter in the name of Jesus, their grip releasing as darkness retreated into the shadows. A newfound clarity pierced through the fog of my despair, and I began to see the world through a lens of hope and light.
With a kind smile, the pastor approached and said, “God is going to use you in a mighty way.” Those words resonated deep within me, igniting a spark of possibility and purpose that I had long thought extinguished.
My grandma and her friend’s perseverance encouraged me to fight in prayer for others.
Don’t think for a moment that the blood of Jesus has or ever will expire. Cast away the thought that the prayers for lost loved ones go unheard. Give no place to the voice that says, “You’re wasting your time!”
I’m here to testify that the consistency of fervent prayer breaks chains of darkness!
“Me?” I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief as I glanced around at the small group of intercessors standing nearby, their faces a mix of hope and encouragement. “God wants to use me?” As the weight of those words sank in, tears streamed down my cheeks, soaking through my black T-shirt and leaving dark smudges on the fabric. I froze, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Just moments ago, I had been consumed by anger and resentment towards God, blaming Him for the chains of evil that bound me. I had inflicted pain on myself and hurled curses in His direction, all while immersing myself in ominous spell books and practicing dark rituals. How could it be possible that He would choose someone like me?
… “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” James 5:16 KJV
At one time, feelings of shame kept me from sharing my testimony. A pastor discouraged me from speaking of it, explaining I would go back into bondage. I realized something: what if the testimonies of those in the Bible went unpublished? How would anyone know His glory embellishes the broken souls of men, women, and children of all nations? No limits!
“Speak of your testimony, the Holy Ghost urged during a group meeting of people from all over the United States in 2014. For the longest time, I hesitated. Without further delay, I gave my testimony. “Thank you for sharing. I thought I was alone. I would have never thought that someone like you went through so much.” The lady’s tear-filled eyes locked with mine. “Don’t ever be ashamed,” she continued. We must share our testimony! “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.” Revelation 12:11 KJV
For a long time, I have chosen to remain silent about my past lifestyle, and there’s a purpose behind this decision. I intend to weave these experiences into a book that will candidly depict my journey.
Ultimately, the opinions of others about my story hold little significance. My primary goal is to reach those who are grappling with similar struggles, reassuring them that they are not alone in their fight.
Through my words, I aim to convey messages filled with hope, comfort, and the profound possibility of redemption through Jesus Christ. As both an author and an artist, the idea of volunteering in my community once seemed distant and unimaginable to me. Yet, I have come to realize that Jesus has the power to transform anyone and any situation, turning despair into hope and darkness into light.
… “my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power: That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God. Howbeit we speak wisdom among them that are perfect: yet not the wisdom of this world, nor of the princes of this world, that come to nought: 1 Corinthians 2:4-6 KJV
Wherefore I say unto thee, “Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.” And he said unto her, “Thy sins are forgiven.”
I do not celebrate Halloween because I have a deep understanding of its origins and significance. This day, often shrouded in fun and fantasy, has roots connected to ancient traditions surrounding witchcraft and the supernatural. For many, it is a time associated with dark arts and rituals—a day when witches and warlocks would perform sacrificial ceremonies under the cover of night. Halloween carries an underlying meaning that is sinister.
A reader recently reached out to me with this message: “Darlene, I feel lukewarm in my faith. Although I am praying, I still feel unsatisfied. I want to return to the place I was when I first committed my life to God. Will you do a blog about this?”
God spoke to me once when I asked, “Lord, I want to go back and feel what I experienced when I first went to the altar.” He replied, “I don’t want to take you back. I want to lead you to a higher place in Me, to greater depths.”
We often feel unsatisfied with the routines we used to follow, and there’s a reason for that. I don’t pray, worship, or respond to situations as I once did when my knees pressed against the carpet, when I realized that I was a sinner.
The term “lukewarm” in Greek conveys a sense of apathy or a lack of enthusiasm. It can refer to a response that lacks fervor or passion. In this context, Greeks might use the phrase χλιαρός ενθουσιασμός (chliarós enthousiasmós), which translates to “lukewarm enthusiasm.” Alternatively, the word αδιάφορος (adíaforos) can be used, meaning “indifferent” or “uninterested,” depending on the tone of the conversation.
Revelation 3:15-17 KJV “ I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot.So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth.Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and need nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:”
Striving is far from being complacent or indifferent; rather, it embodies a deep-seated determination coupled with an unwavering pursuit of one’s passion. To seek means to engage earnestly in a struggle, characterized by passion and a strong commitment to overcoming obstacles in the pursuit of one’s goals.
In the biblical context, specifically in the book of Luke 13:22-24, an enlightening moment occurs when the disciples approach Jesus with a weighty question that reflects their inner turmoil and yearning for understanding: “How can we possibly enter the kingdom of heaven when the gate is so narrow and seems difficult to pass through?” This inquiry captures their genuine concern about the challenges associated with spiritual salvation and the fear of not being able to attain it.
In response to their worries, Jesus instructs them, “Strive to enter in.” This directive encourages you to seek spiritual truth and fulfillment. His words highlight that while the path will be challenging, it is through this effort that one can grasp the profound mercy He extends to us. The call to strive is not just about personal effort. It also involves accepting the life-changing experiences that grace brings to us.
Growth often comes with discomfort, similar to the pain of stretching beyond our current limits. When someone feels completely at ease and content with their spiritual journey and connection with the Lord, it raises a flag for me—there’s a sense that something is wrong. I find myself in a state of persistent longing and restlessness, driven by the understanding that there are richer, deeper realms to explore within my relationship with God. The journey to spiritual depth is never-ending, and I yearn to go deeper into His presence.
Yesterday, my spiritual momma told me something: “ A backslidden person doesn’t hear from God.”
I urge you to keep pushing forward, to persevere with determination, and to continue your prayers. Immerse yourself in His word as you embark on this journey. In due time, you will find yourself arriving at the destination that God has prepared for you. Have faith in the path ahead!
A profound gratitude washed over me as I considered the countless moments that could have unfolded differently. Where might my journey have taken me if someone hadn’t been willing to stand in the gap, fervently praying for my well-being?
In a heartfelt discussion with my friend, we probed into the profound significance of radiating God’s light in our lives. I found myself distancing myself from embracing God’s teachings as a sinner due to the approach of certain Christians. Their calamitous warnings of eternal damnation did nothing to draw me closer to God; instead, I felt pushed away by their lack of compassion and nurturing. Their self-righteous tone seemed to proclaim, “Look at my righteousness!”
David Phelps wrote a song called Live Like a King. The lyrics go like this,
My thirst for the things of this earth Isn’t quenched by diamonds or pearls One Man lived the life that I want. He’s the One they said ruled the world.
Though He only wore a crown of thorns And He never owned a thing.
I want to live like a King. I want to live like a King. And my decree it will ring. “Love will rule everything.” I want to live like a King.
This King did the strangest of things. He befriended the sick and the poor. There was no one too wrong, too right, too black, too white for Him to Love He built no walls, left no unopened doors. Well, now I could croon a million other tunes. There is just one I want to sing.
I want to be stronger; I want to be wiser. I just want to make every move be the one He’d want to see from me. There’s just such power, such healing power. In every word that He said, in every deed that He did
This world has heard enough preaching; now, we need a demonstration of the Holy Ghost’s power! Reflectors were designed to reflect subjects in the dark. People who work in the mines are required to wear reflective clothing, and people walking in the dark should wear bright clothing to be spotted. We are living in a dark world. If we aren’t reflecting God’s glory, how will they see? They need something tangible, not religious and ceremonial.
My heartfelt prayer is to embody the character and virtues of Jesus Christ as fully as I can. I seek the transformative power of the Holy Ghost to cleanse me of all unrighteousness, enabling me to shine as a true reflector of God’s magnificent glory. It is time for us to embrace our role as the church, moving beyond mere rituals and ceremonies. Let us remember that the church is not confined to a physical building; instead, we are the living embodiment of the church in our actions and spirit.
In a dazzling display of royal opulence, the king stood resplendent, his robe flowing like liquid gold as he graciously extended a redemption card toward her. The card shimmered in the light, a key to unlock the beauty that awaited her—a breathtaking garment that hung in the shop’s window like a rare jewel, glistening in the afternoon sun. The dress was a masterpiece, woven with silken threads that sparkled as if kissed by starlight, igniting a deep longing within her soul.
Yet, from behind a wooden counter filled with spools of colorful fabric and the scent of fresh linen, the tailor emerged—a meticulous man with keen eyes and a precision that spoke of years of craftsmanship. He stepped forward, his voice steady and firm. “The king has graciously covered the entire cost of this exquisite dress; however, to keep it in immaculate condition, you must use this specific cleanser.”
Her heart sank a little. “Can’t I use my own cleaner? I possess a special formula that I’ve cherished for years,” she replied, her voice lilting with hope. She envisioned the garment twirling around her at grand occasions, an image marred only by the dark cloud of a compromise.
“That is not an option,” he stated, shaking his head slightly, his face grave with the weight of his responsibility. “This is no ordinary dress. The king has paid in full; anyone who accepts this certificate you hold bears the duty of following the specific care guidelines.” He gestured toward a small bottle sitting on the counter, its sleek design catching the soft glow from the overhead lights. The label shimmered, proclaiming: “Cleans white as snow. Must be applied immediately upon soiling.”
“But I would prefer to use my own cleaner,” she insisted, a thread of desperation weaving through her voice as she clung to the hope of a middle ground.
“That’s not feasible,” he replied, his demeanor resolute. “This garment is not merely an article of clothing. Its value lies in its craftsmanship and the promise it holds. Adopting an alternative method of care would jeopardize its very essence.”
She pressed on, her determination undeterred. “But, sir,” she said, her tone earnest, “I have created an exceptional garment cleaner. It is remarkably effective, I can assure you.”
He scrutinized her thoughtfully, his expression unyielding, then countered with a hint of measured honesty, “Madam, if that holds, then answer me this: why do the garments you wear at this moment seem marred, worn, and perhaps even neglected?” A glimmer of understanding flickered in his gaze.
… “we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.” — Isaiah 64:6 KJV
Imagine a striking scene: a bride walks down the aisle, her wedding gown a chaotic blend of stains and imperfections. The fabric, once lovely and immaculate, is now marred by accidents and rushed preparations. Unsightly stains tarnish its exterior, tattered edges suggest neglect, and uneven rips disrupt its previously graceful shape. An unwanted odor clings to her, adding to the disarray of her appearance and creating a captivating yet heartbreaking contrast to the joyful celebration happening all around her.
This message clearly conveys, “I chose to wear this because I deemed it appropriate.” The Bible is unequivocal about our actions: there is nothing we can do to earn our way into heaven. Jesus has already paid the ultimate price; however, we must actively participate in our salvation by remaining in a state of repentance. It is our responsibility to acknowledge this truth and live accordingly.
Galatians 2:20 – “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live…”
Romans 6:11 – “Reckon yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God.”
Luke 9:23 – “Take up your cross daily…”
The message conveyed in these scriptures is unmistakable: we cannot persist in our sinful ways, believing that God will simply turn a blind eye to our actions.
“What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid. How shall we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein?”— Romans 6:1-2 KJV
The comforting assurance we have is that we possess an advocate with the Father through Jesus. This advocate is not only compassionate but also faithful and just, truly committed to forgiving us of our shortcomings and transgressions. Through this relationship, we find hope and the promise of redemption, knowing that no matter the depths of our mistakes, we can always turn to Him for reconciliation and grace.
“For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.”— Hebrews 8:12 KJV
“Come up higher,” whispered the gentle cadence of God’s voice, flowing softly through the depths of my spirit like a warm breeze. In that moment, I grasped the profound meaning behind His words. The burdens of illness had begun to envelop me, and the constant weight of managing finances and maintaining the tidiness of my apartment felt overwhelming, drawing me into a state of emotional numbness. The relentless grip of sickness left me exposed and vulnerable, making every task seem insurmountable. Yet, despite the anguish residing within me, I found the strength to keep pushing forward, striving to rise above the suffocating circumstances that sought to pull me down.
Our minds often drift aimlessly, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts that leave us feeling disoriented and disconnected. Our bodies may feel heavy and unresponsive, as if burdened by an invisible weight, and clarity seems just beyond our reach. In such moments, our emotions can deceive us, leading us astray from our true path. It is essential, then, to turn to prayer, seeking divine guidance to purify our thoughts and restore our inner peace.
In the words of Philippians 4:8 KJV, we are reminded to focus on what is true and genuine, to embrace what is honorable and just. We are encouraged to reflect on what is pure and beautiful, to seek out those narratives that uplift and inspire us. If there is any virtue to be found, if there is anything worthy of praise, let us dedicate our minds to contemplating these positive, life-affirming thoughts.
I have a profound admiration for the eagle. These magnificent birds, with their powerful wings and striking presence, embody strength and grace. Their piercing eyesight allows them to spot prey from great distances, a testament to their remarkable design. There’s an undeniable wisdom in their demeanor, a swift confidence that accompanies their fearless flights. They ascend to altitudes that most other birds can only dream of, gliding effortlessly through an endless expanse of deep blue sky. Alone or with their Creator, they seem to dance amidst the clouds, embodying a beauty that captures the imagination and transcends comprehension.
From these aerial marvels, we can learn valuable lessons about soaring above our limitations and immersing ourselves in the divine presence of God. Although I personally grapple with a fear of heights, I would embrace the opportunity to rise and touch the face of the Almighty.
We can connect with God through our prayers, acts of worship, and expressions of gratitude. Let this be a source of encouragement for you, dear one—release the burdens that weigh you down.
“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31 KJV.
There’s an electrifying energy infusing the atmosphere. For days now, I’ve felt it surge through the air—an unmistakable anticipation whispering of transformation. The winds of change are not just coming; they are here, bracing everything they touch and stirring a sense of possibility in my very soul.
Ezekiel stood at the edge of the valley, his gaze sweeping across a desolate expanse steeped in silence. The air hung heavy with the residue of death, as though time itself had paused to mourn. Below him, the valley’s mouth gaped open like a wound in the earth, and within it lay a chaotic scattering of bones—sun-bleached, brittle, and broken. They were not arranged in any order, but strewn like forgotten remnants of a once-living multitude. Rib cages lay cracked and hollow, skulls tilted as though still searching for heaven, femurs tangled in dust and sorrow.
It was not merely a graveyard—it was a canvas of devastation, a place where life had been drained so thoroughly that even memory seemed to have fled. I don’t know how you would feel standing there, but for me, the sight would be nothing short of terrifying. Not because of the bones alone, but because of what they whispered: that hope had once lived here—and had long since died.
We are at a pivotal moment where each of us is standing and gazing over a seemingly impossible situation that looks dry, brittle, and bleached. It may seem like Satan has the upper hand. However, the real question isn’t whether or not God can do it; the question is whether we are going to exercise our authority in Christ.
Ezekiel, can these bones live? The valley yawns with silence, its floor littered with the brittle relics of despair. Skulls stare skyward, as if still waiting for mercy. Ribs curve like empty cages, longing for breath. And the voice of the Lord pierces the stillness: “Son of man, can these bones live?” Not a question of anatomy, but of faith. Not a test of logic, but of vision. Speak, Ezekiel. Speak to the bones. Speak to the wind. Call forth sinew, flesh, and breath. For even in the valley of death, Hope is not buried. It waits to be summoned.
Ezekiel stood amidst the desolation of the valley, a deep sense of foreboding in the air. He didn’t falter or hesitate, uttering words like, “Maybe,” or “I’m not sure; it looks hopeless, Lord.” Instead, with unwavering faith, he declared, “You know all things, Lord.” In that moment, he fully recognized the immeasurable wisdom and unparalleled power of God.
Following God’s command, Ezekiel’s voice became a vessel of divine prophecy. As he spoke, the air around him seemed to tremble with anticipation. Suddenly, a low, reverberating sound began to emerge from the depths of the valley—the unmistakable clanking and clattering of bones. It was as if they were responding to some celestial call, a chorus of the forgotten awakening.
Before his very eyes, the scattered skeletons danced to an unseen rhythm, their dry and lifeless forms transforming into flesh and vitality. The miraculous metamorphosis unfolded in front of him, a vivid testament to the power of faith and the promise of life restored. Read Ezekiel Chapter 37
We must position ourselves at the entrance of our valley, taking charge of the life and renewal that surrounds us. A transformative work is unfolding, guided by divine purpose. Are you prepared to embrace this change?
“Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.”— Isaiah 43:19 KJV
Roses are not just flowers; they are symbols of beauty and grace, captivating the hearts of many with their enchanting allure. Their elegance often distracts us from the sharp, hook-shaped thorns that line their sturdy stems. Each gentle caress of those velvety petals is a risk, a chance taken in the pursuit of beauty. In many ways, roses epitomize life’s duality—a double-edged sword, if you will.
My grandmother had an immense appreciation for roses, transforming her yard into a vibrant tapestry of colors and fragrances. I often found my fingers drawn to their soft petals, unable to resist their charm. But the allure came with a price; my innocent touches turned into painful lessons, leaving my fingers a bloody mess from the thorns that guarded such beauty. I quickly learned the vital lesson: admire from a distance, for the beauty of roses can lead to unexpected pain.
Years ago, I stumbled upon a song titled “The Rose,” penned by Amanda McBroom and brought to life by Bette Midler. I watched a breathtaking orchestra perform this haunting melody on YouTube, yet something in me recoiled. Perhaps it was the bittersweet truth that love, like roses, can be both beautiful and painful. It struck me that everything has its boundaries and hidden perils.
Some believe that becoming a Christian equates to walking through a bed of roses, blissfully untouched by life’s trials. However, this perspective often reveals itself as a mere illusion, viewed from a safe distance. True understanding only comes from engaging with that bed of roses, where one learns that it’s not the idyllic paradise imagined. As scripture reminds us, God’s word is a double-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12). Life’s rain—both the showers of joy and the storms of hardship—falls on both the just and the unjust alike; yet we will not bleed alone.The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob promises to reveal Himself to us, walking through the trials hand in hand (Matthew 5:45).
In the heart of this metaphor lies Jesus, the Rose of Sharon, who bore the weight of thorns yet remains unblemished by them. He experienced the sharp pain of the crown of thorns, a testament to His love for us. This is the Rose we can—or rather, should—adorn with our deepest affections.
“Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, since ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy” (1 Peter 4:12-13 KJV). KJV
The song “Make Me a House of Prayer” holds a special place in my heart. Every time I listen to it, I reflect on my journey with prayer, which has been filled with moments of doubt and hesitation. The melody resonates deeply with me, inviting me to embrace my profound desire for a closer relationship with God. The lyrics beautifully express the essence of longing, conveying my wish to create a sacred space within myself where that connection can flourish and grow.
Lord, Make Me A House
Make Me A House of Prayer
Lord, Make Me A House
Make Me A House of Prayer
A House of Prayer
May The Fire On My Altar Never Burn Out
A profound and uplifting sensation washes over me, wrapping me in warmth as I surrender to the embrace of prayer. In those cherished moments of solitude, I find myself whispering softly, “Lord, may I linger here just a little longer? Can I remain enveloped in Your divine presence, surrounded by this serene sanctuary of tranquility and peace?” Deep within my soul, I feel an awareness stirring—an unmistakable sense that a test awaits me on the horizon, a formidable challenge that lies ahead, ready to unfold as I navigate the path before me.
In these challenging times, what we truly need is sincere prayer—prayers filled with deep emotion, shedding tears that nurture and bring life to hopeless things. We are on the brink of something great, and the need for heartfelt supplication has never been more urgent. Nations are being born. You might be thinking, “Darlene, it doesn’t look that way.” However, the Bible calls us not to see things as they are, but to view them through the eyes of God. We need to examine things from a different perspective.
“Therefore it is of faith, that it might be by grace; to the end the promise might be sure to all the seed; not to that only which is of the law, but to that also which is of the faith of Abraham; who is the father of us all, (As it is written, I have made thee a father of many nations,) before him whom he believed, even God, who quickeneth the dead, and calleth those things which be not as though they were.” Romans 4:16-17
We must confidently proclaim these promises with our voices, allowing them to spread through the air, so that they can take root and ultimately come to realization.
I found myself stifling a chuckle, fully grasping the backstory behind Dutch Sheets’ experiences. The Lord had nudged him to delve into the account of the lame man at the Gate Beautiful. “Leave me alone; I’ve read that before,” he thought, hoping to keep that fleeting sentiment hidden from the Lord. In that instant, Dutch was blissfully unaware that God knows our innermost thoughts. It struck a chord with me, resonating with a familiar feeling. He went on to describe how he pored over that scripture time and again until the profound message the Lord intended finally revealed itself to him.
Recently, God brought to my mind the compelling tale of Gideon, a man wrestling fiercely with doubts about his capability to lead the beleaguered nation of Israel against the overwhelming forces of the Midianites. Chosen for such a monumental task, Gideon couldn’t see that God desired his willingness to step forward and draw upon divine strength. This reflection resonates deeply within me as I often find myself questioning the Lord, “Why have you placed me in the roles of an author, an artist, and a leader when I grapple with numerous personal challenges?” God has gently replied, “So that I may be glorified.”
It might seem remarkable—or even absurd—that someone like me, someone who constantly battles with dyslexia and ADHD, would dare to embrace these responsibilities, especially in a time when such struggles are frequently dismissed or overlooked. However, I confidently navigate these turbulent waters through the empowering guidance of the Holy Spirit. Looking back on the life of Moses—a man who faced his own battles with a speech impediment and often felt inadequate—I draw strength from his journey. Like Moses, who pressed on against his limitations (Exodus 3:11), I find reassurance in the knowledge that God can work powerfully through my weaknesses to manifest His glory.
“God, I know those stories. I don’t want to reread them,” you might say.
“Take the time to immerse yourself in those words once more,” He responds gently, “allowing their meaning to seep deep into your very essence until they transform from mere obstacles into stepping stones, stripped of any power that darkness may hold over you.” I am genuinely grateful for those sacred moments when we attune our hearts to God’s whispering presence within our spirits. He has assured us of His unwavering commitment to guide and illuminate our paths with profound truth and love.
The Lord may indeed be addressing something in your own life. It’s vital to understand that it is our Heavenly Father who loves us unconditionally. God uniquely uses the seemingly impossible and the weaknesses of humanity to reveal His extraordinary glory.
“But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.” —1 Corinthians 1:27 KJV.
WRITING GOD'S VISION----AUTHOR DARLENE JUANITA CONARD 
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