In Loving Memory of Becky Groves Bailey

June 15, 1954 – December 2, 2021

“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

I sat nervously at the memorial service, my heart heavy with sorrow, surrounded by a sea of faces – an emotional tapestry of feelings woven together by grief and love – all united by one common thread: our cherished Becky Bailey. The atmosphere was filled with a tangible sense of loss, the air heavy with unspoken words and shared memories.

A table facing the crowd was adorned with a portrait of Becky, capturing her radiant smile and sparkling eyes. Fragrant bouquets of flowers, vibrant and alive, seemed surreal in contrast to the somber occasion. The soft strains of her favorite music played igniting a cascade of memories within me.

On one occasion Becky’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. While confined to a hospital bed, she reached out to me through a straightforward text, saying, “I’ve been thinking about you. “Those words struck a chord deep within me. “Thank you, Becky, for understanding without even knowing the battles I’ve been fighting. In that moment, as I lay on my own bed, consumed by feelings of worthlessness, your message of thoughtfulness brought a glimmer of hope into my weary heart. I’ve been tirelessly praying for guidance, seeking for a sign that I’m not alone. And you send this message, like an angel, reminding me that I’m seen and cared for.

But it didn’t stop there, Becky went above and beyond, sending me a video about eagle leadership. Intrigued, I clicked play, not knowing what to expect. And as the footage unfolded, I found myself inspired by the message of the majestic nature of eagles, soaring fearlessly with grace. God gave the lady minister in the video a message, “It’s time Eagle Leaders to take flight for this generation. Fly above the storm.” A pool of tears slid down my cheeks soaking my pillow. “Your gesture, Becky, was no coincidence. It was a gift from above, a message from God to remind me that I too possess the strength to rise above my challenges. Just like the eagle, I can tap into my inner leadership qualities and overcome any obstacles that have been weighing me down. So, thank you, Becky, for being the vessel of encouragement I so desperately needed. You have given me renewed faith in my purpose and reminded me of the power of connection”

 The wind continued to dance among the leaves, pulling me in and out of memories. I felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination. I am ready to spread my wings and embrace the leadership qualities within me, just like those majestic eagles. From the depths of my heart, Becky, I am grateful for your timely presence and the impact you have had on my life.

May we both continue to inspire and uplift each other on this journey, fueled by the winds of change and the power of friendship.

Around me, friends and family whispered in hushed tones, their voices muffled by the weight of their sadness. Tears glistened on cheeks, serving as testament to the impact Becky had made on each person present. She had been the beacon of light in our lives, a source of laughter and joy, but now, left she’s in the embrace of God’s care. Her absence left a void impossible to fill.

As the memorial service began, the atmosphere fell into a contemplative silence. The minister’s voice, somber and gentle, rose and fell like waves crashing upon a shore. Her words merged with our collective thoughts, lifting them to the heavens, searching for solace in the midst of this heart-wrenching farewell.

I clung to the memories I had of Becky, playing them over and over in my mind like a cherished film reel. Her infectious laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with God’s love, the warmth of her embrace – these moments become even more precious now that they are memories.

My mind wandered to the countless moments we had shared, the adventures and secrets we had entrusted to one another. I recalled the nights we had talking to one another on the phone. There was laughter, tears, engaging in conversations about God’s miracle working power. We believed and knew that our friendship was eternal, that nothing could ever sever our bond.

But as I sat there, surrounded by the swell of sorrow, I came to understand the immense impact Becky had on all of us. She had an uncanny ability to bring people together, to create an unbreakable bond within her circle of loved ones.

As the memorial service came to a close, each person rose, their faces etched with sadness and acceptance. We might never fully recover from the loss we had endured, but we would carry Becky’s spirit forward, letting her memory guide us through the darkest of times.

I stood up, my nerves now replaced by a resilient determination to honor Becky’s legacy. As I walked away from the memorial service, I felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sea of sorrow. Though our hearts were heavy, Becky had taught us the power of love and friendship, and that, in itself, was a solace that would endure.

As the words flowed effortlessly between us, a cascade of understanding and recognition enveloped our shared conversation. Becky, with her lineage tracing back to a lineage of prophetic brilliance, saw me not just as a friend, but as a kindred spirit. The weighty responsibility that comes with bearing the title of a prophetess was not lost on either of us. It was a path shrouded in complexity, one that demanded unwavering faith and relentless perseverance.

Yet, despite the challenges and the burdens we carried, there was an undeniable sense of excitement that coursed through our beings. To find someone who truly comprehended the intricacies of our unique calling, someone who could relate to the trials and tribulations we faced, was nothing short of exhilarating.

Becky spoke of her mother, a woman of great spiritual insight, and how she had been groomed from a tender age to walk in the footsteps of the divine. The legacy that Becky was now entrusted with was a daunting one, but it was also awe-inspiring. We shared tales of our encounters with the divine, of the profound moments where heaven seemed to touch earth, and the extraordinary visions that shaped our destinies.

In the midst of our shared experiences, it became evident that our connection ran deeper than mere understanding or empathy. We were, as Becky so eloquently put it, kindred spirits. It was as if our souls had danced together in a different realm long before we ever met in this earthly existence. Our laughter I believed entertained God. Time became irrelevant as hours slipped away, lost in the enchantment of our conversation. We had not just found a companion in each other, but a confidante, a true ally in this arduous journey we were on. The weight of our responsibilities felt a little lighter, knowing that we were not alone.

For in the realm of prophethood, where the boundaries between the divine and the human blur, the real glory lay not in the acclaim of mortals, but in the humble act of sitting at the feet of Jesus. It is in those moments of communion with the divine that our hearts are nourished, our spirits rejuvenated, and our purpose reaffirmed.

As our shared conversation drew to a close, a bittersweet feeling washed over us. We knew that this newfound connection was a gift, one that would forever shape our paths and strengthen our resolve. The excitement we felt in that moment would linger, fueling us on the days when the journey seemed too treacherous.

Becky and I had transcended the limitations of time and space, bound together by a shared understanding of a sacred role. We were not just two souls conversing, but two vessels of divine revelation, united in purpose and solidarity. And together, we would continue to walk the difficult path in the prophetic, finding solace in the knowledge that we were never truly alone. It’s not an easy position to walk in nor is it glorious! The only thing glorious about it is sitting at the feet of Jesus.

The first time we engaged in a conversation we felt we knew each other all our lives. Kindred spirits is what she said we were.

September 2021 at 12:09 pm 

Ginny and her family had asked me to keep Becky, their sister-in-law, in prayer. I had been diligently doing so, but perhaps there was something more I could do to uplift her spirits. “You both have so much in common. Why don’t you reach out to her? A simple text letting her know that you’re thinking of her and praying for her could bring her some much-needed encouragement,” Ginny said.

After hanging up I searched for the right words to say to her. As the dishes clinked in the sink, I found myself lost in thought.  I didn’t know what to say, how to express the depth of my concern and the extent of my prayers. In that moment, I felt a sudden pull, a whisper from above. It was God, guiding me with His word, “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.” His voice resounded in my heart, urging me to share this scripture with Becky.

Swiftly, I set aside the dishes and reached for my phone. A quick search led me to the scripture, Isaiah 40:31. As I scrolled through the images, one depiction caught my interest. An eagle soaring near a cliff, gracefully banking in a 45-degree angle turn. It was the perfect visual representation of the scripture’s words, capturing the essence of hope and strength.

Without hesitation, I posted this image on Becky’s Facebook page, accompanied by a message, “God told me this is your favorite scripture.” I pressed the post button, feeling a sense of urgency, as if time were of the essence. And then, the reply came beneath it. Becky’s words appeared on my screen, filling my heart with joy. “It is!” she exclaimed. In that moment, I knew that God had used me as His messenger, reaffirming Becky’s faith and offering her the encouragement she so desperately needed.

I learned so much from this beautiful woman of God! Our hearts were enclosed with the passion of seeking the face of God with fervency. We exchanged testimonies about our secret place, our prayer closet, with the Lord our God. There we had caught the attention of heaven to bring it down to us. “This is who we are Becky. Isn’t God amazing and hard to comprehend?”

“Yes, He is,” She answered quickly.

One-night Beckey and I talked for hours, she asked me to pray for her son. “Darlene, she paused, “please don’t stop praying for my family.” Tears swelled in my eyes, “I won’t Becky,” I said taking a breath, “I promise.”

Becky accepted me for who I was. Freedom filled the space around us. She understood me so well.

In the depths of our souls, we were kindred spirits, bound together by the fire of our faith. The woman, a magnificent vessel of God’s love, touched my heart in ways I never thought possible. Her presence alone radiated with an ethereal glow, as if she were truly an angel sent from above.

We shared our stories, baring our souls in the hidden sanctuary of our prayer closets. There, in the sacred stillness, we poured out our hearts to the Almighty, seeking His divine guidance and mercy. The intensity of our prayers seemed to reverberate through the heavens, capturing the attention of celestial beings.

“This is who we are, Becky,” I whispered, my voice trembling with awe. “Isn’t God simply astounding? He is beyond our comprehension, yet He desires an intimate relationship with us.”

A smile graced Becky’s lips, her eyes shining with a profound understanding. “Yes, He truly is magnificent,” she murmured, her voice laced with adoration. And in that moment, our souls danced together, entwined in the rhythm of praise and worship.

On a moonlit night, as the world slept beneath a blanket of stars, our conversation flowed ceaselessly. Becky, with a vulnerable yet courageous heart, confided in me about her beloved son. The weight of her worries etched lines of sorrow upon her face, but her faith never wavered.

“Darlene,” she spoke softly, her voice layered with emotion, “please, don’t ever cease praying for my family. Your prayers hold a power beyond measure. I trust in the intercession that flows from your heart.”

My eyes welled up with tears, reflecting the depth of my love for this remarkable woman. “Becky,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion, “I will. I promise Becky.” We had the same language, spiritual topics that very few do not understand.

With those words spoken, a profound peace settled upon us. In this sacred moment, Becky embraced me for who I was, flaws and all. The chains of judgment and expectation were shattered, replaced by a freeing acceptance that enveloped us both.

In the presence of this woman of God, freedom soared, igniting our spirits and releasing us from the shackles of conformity. We reveled in the understanding that we didn’t have to fit into society’s mold; instead, we were called to be authentic in our worship and love for the Creator.

Becky understood me on a level no one else could. She saw beyond my frailties peering into the depths of my soul through the eyes of God. In her presence, my spirit flourished, unfettered and unapologetic.

Oh, how I cherished our moments together, those precious hours filled with celestial dialogue and unwavering faith. Becky, a beacon of God’s love, taught me the power of vulnerability and the beauty of surrender. She forever remains in my heart, a testament to the boundless grace and compassion of our Heavenly Father. We discussed over and over how I had become blood. “I forget that I’m not related,” I giggled in response.

On Thanksgiving in 2021 a few of her family members celebrated with me. She sent me a message saying,” Tell them I said Happy Thanksgiving.”  Pausing from fixing their plates I relayed messages from us to her.

An unsettling intrusion interrupted the special occasion. Suddenly I didn’t want to celebrate, I saw a vision of myself dressed for a funeral. Becky’s fight with pancreatic cancer had been a fight. No, she’s going to get better! I argued within myself. Death I will pray against you! My inner argument failed as it continued to prevail.

 Before she passed away, I talked to her for the last time. She said, “Darlene I’m trying to hold on but I’m so tired.” I felt her tiredness. “I love you so much Becky!” Faintly, I love you to honey.”  

Before she passed away, I had the privilege of speaking to her one last time. Weariness echoed in her voice as she whispered, “Darlene, I’m trying my best to hold on, but I’m so tired.” I could feel the weight of her exhaustion seeping through the phone line. My heart ached.

With tears welling in my eyes, I replied, “I love you so much, Becky!” Her response was a faint whisper, barely audible, “I love you too, honey.” Even in her weariness, her love for me radiated.

Days turned into weeks, and the inevitable moment arrived on November 26th. I had drifted off into a deep nap on the couch when a knock at the door jolted me awake. It was Becky’s brother-in-law, concerned about my well-being. After verifying that I was physically okay, I lay back down, surrendering to exhausted slumber.

In the realm of dreams, a surreal drapery unfurled before me. An eagle perched on a majestic mountaintop; its wings stretched wide against the ascending sun. The sky transformed into a canvas of vibrant orange and yellow, as if the very horizon burned with the intensity of a charcoal flame. Amidst this ethereal panorama, Becky’s face materialized in the billowing clouds, her presence vivid and undeniable.

The sky itself held an air of sovereignty, a stage awaiting the grand arrival of the eagle. Her silhouette was still visible, a tender smile etched upon her face. Happiness beheld her, knowing this was but a dream, a fleeting moment of consolation, freedom, and strength.

But as I woke, tears streaming down my face, denial clung stubbornly to my heart. I refused to accept that she would be leaving us, clinging to hope that she would miraculously recover and rejoin us, her absence merely a transient illusion.

Yet, night after night, the same dream enveloped my restless sleep. Each time, as the sun arose above the distant hills, casting its last golden glow upon the world, Becky’s silhouette faded into the dawning of finished journey, the eagle on the verge of taking flight. The dream began to unfold like a bittersweet celebration, a solemn dance of farewell.

Then, in the final dream, the eagle’s cry pierced the air, reverberating through the depths of my soul. It spread its magnificent wings, spanning the breadth of the sky, as if bidding a final farewell. As the majestic bird embarked on its journey, I could almost hear Becky’s voice whispering gently, “I’m no longer in pain.”

In that moment, my heart shattered into a million tiny fragments, the weight of the inevitable crashing down upon me. The eagle soared into the boundless expanse, carrying within its wings the essence of Becky’s spirit, the embodiment of her strength and love.

And so, with tears streaming down my face, I bid goodbye to the silhouette that had graced my dreams, intertwining with the sunset’s embrace. Yet, even as she faded from view, I knew deep within my heart that her love would emanate forever, like a beacon in the night, guiding me through my wilderness moments. Becky Groves Bailey saw eagle characteristics in me: I couldn’t see it for myself.

No, cancer didn’t prevail over Becky. She embraced peace, love, and joy.

Thank you Leslie Bailey (Shorty) for giving me permission to publish this. She expressed her excitment the moment I told her she had a special place in my book.

Author Darlene J. Conard

In loving memory of Shannon Bailey Sigley

 … “in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”   Psalm 30:5 KJV

Several things interrupted my busy schedule for that Tuesday. It being my friend’s birthday made it difficult.

 Covid changed everything! It took time away from us. Since we were in quarantine, we didn’t get to spend time together. I admit, I was so angry that although we lived in the same town it distanced us. A distance that felt like millions of miles away.

Shannon passed away on February 1, 2020. I’ll never forget the phone call. “Darlene, Shannon passed away.” An uncomfortable silence left a wide-open space. Was I angry at God, myself or Covid or all three. “I have to go!” I answered. The moment I hung up, I let the phone slip from my trembling grip on the floor. In all honesty, I don’t remember what else was said. Nothing at that moment felt real. Is this a nightmare that I can’t shake myself loose from? Did I just hear right? At the top of my lungs I screamed, “Why God did you take my friend? I loved her!” I’ll never forget His response. “I loved her more.” His words silenced my rage. He was listening. “God, I just don’t get it.” Heavy sobs trapped the rest of what I needed to say. I can’t do this anymore God, I just can’t.”  

I realize the capacity of my transparency is great. I’m unveiling my secret wars as God deals with me to do so. Someone more than one is going through the same thing.

Feelings and memories began surfacing. I rehearsed in my mind some way to honor her, celebrate that she was my friend, never leaving my heart.

At 3:49 pm, my friend Tigger who lives in another town calls me to go sightseeing on the mountain.

That day in the setting of the sun we got out of her jeep and began shouting praises to God. A new beginning,” I said looking at her in awe, “we are going to experience the glory of God like we’ve never experienced. We began praying for each other, our nation, all nations, friends, and family.

The birthday memorial I had in mind was nothing compared to what God had in store!

Memories flooded my heart; I remember so clearly my friend Ginny called asking me to pray for her and her daughter Shannon. “Well,” I sniffled I need prayer too. I had a devastating situation that I struggled to press through. I had no idea that her daughter was my nurse before I became a Christian. My doctor sent me back to wait for her. Her kind and gentle spirited personality made a great impression on me. She came in sticking her head out the door informing the nurses, “Yep, I told my husband after having hotdogs this evening we were going back on a diet.” Giggling mischievously as she looked through my paperwork. I didn’t know how to respond socially. Dressed in black, heavy makeup and hidden razor marks, I’m not sure if she saw the pain in my eyes. I’m sure she did since she had a sensitivity to people’s broken hearts. It wasn’t a coincidence that our paths crossed in 2017.

 My old dark lifestyle no longer existed, still I had issues, great confusion from church hurt. I couldn’t break away from being pointed out by the pastor with a microphone shoved to my mouth. Through gritted teeth and a red face, screaming, “You think your something, but you’re not, “Say it has nothing to do with me.” I swallowed forcing the vomit back down, as I looked him right in the face. “It has nothing to do with me.” God opened a door for me to volunteer for my community and I was recognized by Nick Rahall for endless volunteering. They didn’t like it. Since I volunteered there, I was put on the list to get our home fixed by a church organization called World Servants. He went to say, “Sister V, it was your prayers God answered pointing to my mom. He pointed his finger at me through gritted teeth spitting, “Not you! It had nothing to do with you!” He went on about how I was prideful in a mocking tone, “Well, I’m Joseph,” looking at me.” He went on to say, express how I needed to be like a scolded hog, purged.  It crushed me, I supported them. I was dedicated. I made them meals, bought them gifts and prayed with them. I checked on them often. Please don’t look at this as me boasting, “I did this!” It almost destroyed me. I had problems getting close to anyone after that. People asked me why I stayed, “Well, because I forgive. I don’t hold grudges. Because I loved them and hoped that things would change. Seventeen years of dedication down the drain! I thought.

Shannon’s only son crossed the threshold of graduation that year, a monumental achievement celebrated by the tenacious determination of the educational facility. We worked tirelessly, striving to preserve the presence of Baccalaureates within its hallowed halls, ensuring that the flame of God’s Word remained alight for generations to come.

Through the radiant introduction of Ginny, the Holy Spirit deftly wove our lives together, stitching the fabric of our friendship with divine threads of remembrance.

To be honest, I had forgotten that I’m not blood related.

Shannon’s devoted mother, with great affection and enthusiasm, delighted her daughter with the devotionals I wrote and faithfully dispatched via email. Intrigued and captivated, Shannon’s curiosity propelled her to embark upon the soul-stirring literary journey. Every word, every sentiment, resonated within the depths of her being, sparking a profound love for the spiritual musings inked by my hand.

In a gesture of support and tender care, I sent her a vibrant bouquet of flowers, a symbol of heartfelt empathy to comfort her during her post-surgery recovery. Yet, paradoxically, when the warmth of connection beckoned me to draw near, an inexplicable stirring of emotions compelled me to retreat and shy away, like a fragile butterfly eluding outstretched hands.

In those uncertain moments, I grappled with the turbulent sea of my own emotions, helplessly navigating uncharted territories. Lost in the tempest of my inner turmoil, I succumbed to the ill-fated decision of posting a personal confession on Facebook, unwittingly inviting the storm of double hurt upon my fragile heart. The pain, sharp and relentless, multiplied upon itself, like a relentless tide eroding the sand beneath my feet. Amidst the torrential downpour, a knock sounded upon my door, disrupting the chaos within.  stood Ginny, Anissa, and Mike, a trio of unwavering support, offering consolation and reassurance in their compassionate embrace. Behind them followed Shannon. She came into my apartment in spite of being allergic to cats.

Shannon and I, bound by more than blood, were like two rays of sunshine entwined in a tapestry of sisterhood. The memories still dance like kaleidoscope patterns in the corridors of my mind. Together, we embarked on countless exhilarating adventures, accompanied by our spirited accomplice Ginny. Oh, how she reveled in mischief, in the delight of making her brother and uncle incensed, just for the sheer thrill of it all.

In the embrace of Shannon’s family, I found a sanctuary, a haven where the constraints of biology were rendered irrelevant. They welcomed me with open arms, showering me with a love that transcended the confines of lineage. It was Shannon, with her sage wisdom and fiery determination, who would point her finger at me, gazing into my eyes, and passionately proclaim, “Don’t you ever let anyone put you down, ever! Do you hear me?” Her words echoed deep within my soul, etching everlasting strength and resilience upon my very being.

Among them, I found comfort, a refuge shimmering with the threads of divine purpose. Tommy, their cousin, became a kindred spirit, whispering words of affirmation as he held my gaze and thought, “It’s not that you don’t fit in, Darlene, it’s them that don’t.” His words affirmed    my uniqueness, igniting a fire within me to embrace my true path.

Shannon’s uncle whom she would refer to as uncle/brother, became a beacon of unwavering faith, nudged me towards the realm of ministry, urging me to unlock the potential that lay dormant within my soul. Encouraged by the whole family, their love gave wings to my ambitions, affirming that the Holy Spirit had indeed woven our lives together for a grander purpose. There encouraging words mended the distrust I had toward people.

Shannon and I were two entwined in an imaginative pod, sharing the same burning passion for people, for children whose innocence needed protecting, and for spreading ripples of kindness that would touch even the most hardened hearts. Countless were the nights when we poured our souls into unending conversations about the splendor of God, marveling at His unfathomable wonders and acknowledging His limitless power to shape destinies.

But then, a somber shift intruded upon our idyllic life. Shannon’s friend fell gravely ill, and with a heavy heart, she ceased her petitions for my prayers. Nevertheless, she would reach out frequently, seeking support in the fervency of my faith. Since our conversations were bound by the tides of circumstance, our connection took the form of written prayers, their sacred words inscribed with indelible ink upon the tapestry of our bond.

As the year 2023 unfurled its wintry mantel, February descended with an air of uncertainty, as if holding its breath before releasing an ambush of affliction. Lost in a turbulence of confusion and physical instability, my body reeled from dizzying spells, a menacing virus spreading. To multiply my vexations, the doctor in the ER, in a fleeting gap, gave me an unnecessary pill.

Seeking solace in the rocky terrain of my faith, I clung to prayer, a lifeline amidst the tempest of my circumstances. Upon returning home, I surrendered to the comforting embrace of a hot shower, the cascading water purging away the remnants of distress. Pulling the strings of darkness aside, I illuminated the kitchen with a warm glow, granting my bedroom door a slight ajar. And with that, I nestled into my bed, a tapestry of weariness woven within my bones.

Drifting into a realm of slumber, my senses delicately surrendered to the touch of angels descending from a celestial realm. A dream, taking shape with vivid clarity, unfurled before my bewildered eyes. There, in the midst of Shannon’s beloved family, a tableau frozen in time, my heart hesitated, yearning to flee. And yet, as if guided by invisible threads of destiny, I stumbled, my feet entangled in the feathery tendrils of light itself.

In the radiant center of this shimmering portal, Shannon was seated, her arms outstretched, welcoming me into her embrace. In a whirlwind of emotions, I mimicked her gesture, enveloping her in a fierce yet tender hold. The weight of my tears cascaded upon her black spotted blouse, mingling in a symphony of sorrow and relief. “I love you, Shan,” I whispered, my voice trembling with defenselessness and sincerity.

In the gentle timbre of her voice, as it danced across the expanse of my ear, she echoed back, soothing the ache within my spirit, “I know that, Gaitor. I love you too. It’s going to be okay.” In that embrace, I found relief, comfort rooted in a connection that transcended the divide between an unknown dimension in the spirit realm. A torrent of words poured forth, compassion for her entire family, an acknowledgement that even within the depths of mortal existence, people sometimes forget the gravity of their impact.

The echo of her words resonated within the chambers of my heart, lively with a certainty that surpassed the bounds of mortal comprehension. Unquestionable in its reality, this supernatural encounter served as a divine balm, an embrace from the heavens that whispered, with celestial cadence, that I was unmistakably dwelling within the needlepoint of His will.

And so, Shannon, an everlasting flame within my heart, continues to burn bright, with her encouraging voice lingering as I journey on this winding path of life’s unknowns.

In the tapestry of our intertwined souls, she remains a source of inspiration, a testament to the profound impact that individuals can imprint upon one another’s lives. For this beautiful encounter, this symphony of light and love, was a testament to the eternal bonds forged in the realm of the Divine, where angels gather and spirits intermingle, forever tethered by the power of enduring love.

Author Darlene J. Conard

“Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.” Psalm 139:16   KJV

God doesn’t need you!  God does- not -need -you! Why are you even ministering? Why are you even writing a book? Why are you even bothering to pray or read the bible, since God doesn’t need you? drilled deeply in my spirit like a hammer’s forcing power to drive a nail in a board.

Why am I? The statement swallowed all the hope that I held. Though I tried praying the accusing words away, they became louder. My sleep became interrupted by confusion once again. I should’ve stayed on the streets walking at night, going to strange places, and staying in the dark pit, as I remembered the many times a pastor angrily got in my face to make the statement clear: God doesn’t need you! It wasn’t your prayers God answered!

The words, “God doesn’t need any of us,” came out during a Bible study. The sudden feeling of abandonment, worthlessness, and dirtiness came over me. I screamed while outwardly putting on my joyful mask. 

I’m wasting my time then since God doesn’t need me! Prayer, encouragement, and peace spiraled downward instead of absorbing in my spirit. Then why doesn’t God do things Himself? Why bother with any of this? All kinds of thoughts generated in my mind as overwhelming insecurity squeezed life out of me. I’m rejected by my dad and God, too?

The prompting voice of the Lord pulled me from giving into the temptation of staying in bed, sleeping the day away. “Darlene, get up.” He reminded me of the passages in Ezekiel 22:30, “And I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I found none.” The absence of an intercessor, a prayer warrior, caused God to proceed in judgment.

Another example is Abraham. God asked the angels a question, “Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do?”

And the men rose up from thence, and looked toward Sodom: and Abraham went with them to bring them on the way.  And the LORD said, “Shall I hide from Abraham that thing which I do; Seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him?  For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the LORD, to do justice and judgment; that the LORD may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him.” And the LORD said, “Because the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very grievous; I will go down now, and see whether they have done altogether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me; and if not, I will know.” Genesis 18:16-21

Abraham remained standing after the Lord turned to talk with the men who were angels. Overhearing the conversation, Abraham drew near and opened his mouth to get God’s attention toward him once again.

This generates my thoughts: how often have we interrupted God’s conversation with angels such as this? It certainly matters, or God wouldn’t need to speak to Abraham. Our voice does matter. God does need us and hears our voice.

God communed with Abraham. The word commune means to focus on, converse, or talk, often with deep intensity, intimate communication, or relationship as sharing your heart and mind: an interchange of ideas or thoughts, resulting from the French “comun” meaning – common, to share.

God came to Abraham with His plan. It was important to God that He shared His thoughts with him. In Isaiah 41:8, God declares what Abraham is to Him, my friend. He didn’t speak in the form of past tense. In the same discussion, He promises as He comforts Jacob, “I will not cast you away.” (Isaiah 41:9-10)

Moses caused God to change His mind about destroying Israel. If it hadn’t been for Moses, God would have destroyed them.  (Psalm 106:19-23) Moses reminded God that His enemies would mock Him.

God described how His people made him feel, furious enough to melt them like wax. Exodus 32:10) God spared the people due to an intercessor; however, He didn’t wink at their sin. (Exodus 35:1-35)

In verses 32 and 33, Moses’ desperation for the redemption of the people took him as far as requesting his name be blotted from His book. God replied, “Whoever has sinned against Me, him will I blot out.”

Thankfully, through the blood of Jesus and Jesus only we can come boldly to the throne of Grace.

“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16 KJV

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 [DC1]

 [DC2]What is the biblical meaning of commune?

Commune means to focus on God, converse, talk, often with profound intensity, intimate communication or rapport as sharing your heart and mind with God in prayer: an interchange of ideas or sentiments, derived from French “comun” meaning – common, to share.

Author Darlene Conard

I’ve been in Gideon’s position more times than I can count. (Judges 6-8) “If this is You, Lord, give me another sign!” Unsatisfied with the first answer I would ask again. What makes me this way? Searching intently, I reviewed my life. Where is the lost thread? Where is that one thread? When pulled, it loosens the intact garment. God, I need to find the source: pick it apart so I may come undone and remade.

“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. (Proverbs 22:6) Train them in the way they should go. If a child is taught to believe negative things about themselves, it’s a weed. It chokes good things out.

Weeds quickly conquer soil, taking space. Think about it. For good seeds to flourish, weeds must be uprooted completely. Grandma loved gardening. Helping alongside her I’d pull weeds out but lay them on the ground. “No, put them in the wheelbarrow to be hauled away.” It made plenty of sense. She explained that weeds could still take root although they were uprooted. Eventually, it would choke out the good seeds planted.  

I have always earnestly prayed for God to search my heart, soul, and mind. “I want everything that’s not of You, God, out!” He answers. Once He pulls that single thread, we become undone. We believe we know ourselves to a full extent until pressure is applied. I pray to be Christlike.

Going back to finding that single thread Matthew 9:16 says,” “No man putteth a piece of new cloth unto an old garment, for that which is put in to fill it up taketh from the garment, and the rent is made worse.” Please give me your full attention. Picture one of your best outfits that’s flawless. Now imagine pieces of it being torn out. Oil-stained rags are sewn in the torn-out areas, filling the missing pieces. Rags worsen the look.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:6 KJV)

“Search the chambers of my heart, Lord. For I know my heart unknowingly holds things not pleasing to You. Refill me, Lord, for I run empty due to the cares of life. Do this, Lord, that I may be pure and holy inwardly.”

Gideon believed of himself he couldn’t possibly be the one God chose to confront the Midianites.  It does matter, “For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he,” ….  (Proverbs 23:7 KJV). God pulled that loose thread to unravel the misfitted pattern.  Family members planted a misconception of a false identity.

“But the Lord said unto Samuel, “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.  (1 Samuel 16:7 KJV)

As a messenger of God, I see you through the eyes of redemption. Let us always see ourselves through the eyes of God, not society. I have been shown great mercy. Consistently, I need the Lord’s mercy.

“Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and edify one  another, even as also ye do.”1 Thessalonians 5:11

Author Darlene J. Conard

On a hill far away, stood an old rugged Cross
The emblem of suffering and shame
And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain
And I’ll cherish the old rugged Cross
And till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown

-George Bennard- 1913

My soul embraced every word to the old familiar hymn. Don’t think for a moment the power of the cross is long gone. This world will never destroy or water it down.

Blood does have a voice. (Hebrews 12:24)

Starting at the age of fifteen, I wandered the streets looking for answers. Wondering through night’s darkest hours gave me a sense of belonging to something. Darkness felt safe. It felt right until it retaliated. It was a nightmare! Somebody prayed for me. I no longer live there!

His tender mercies renew every day.  My repeated failures forgiven. His throne of grace’s accessibility is always opened. As for me often I felt that He would grow weary of me. He doesn’t. He’s patient.

God is patient with us.  “The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward,” … (2 Peter 3:9 KJV) He is not slow concerning promises. Our impatience considers Him slow.  The blindman by the wayside received his sight. (Mark 8:22-25) Legion who was full of demons was found clothed and in his right mind.  (Mark 5:1-20) Lazarus’ body lay in the tomb for four days. Still, he was resurrected. (John 11) Water was turned to wine. (John 2:1-11) An adulterous ready to be stoned received redemption. The Bible is full of miracles, signs and wonders! (John 7:53 – 8:11) You know what? Our testimony can be found in the word of God. Who can you relate to? Power continues flowing from the pages of the Bible into our lives. Power, not just any power, God’s power transfers, every written word into circumstances. If we truly believe!  

In all my short comings, circumstances, heartaches, whatever the case may be. I chose to bury myself in the bosom of Calvary. I didn’t come looking for Him. He came looking for me: He comes to you.

Wilson Chapel – Fall w-Nice Sky Photographer Thomas Bailey of Richwood, WV

Author Darlene J. Conard

In the hushed embrace of the night, as the stars bespangled the heavens above, I stood in awe, my gaze fixed on the celestial embroidery. Whispering softly, as if sharing secrets with the moon itself, I reveled in the unearthly beauty that unraveled before my eyes. The gentle caress of the wind swept through the surrounding trees, orchestrating a dance of shadows upon the deck. The harmonious symphony of crickets chirping, and leaves rustling formed a steady rhythm, as if nature itself joined in the chorus of His wonders.

How could I not be humbled by this astonishing display? It was a masterpiece incomparable to any creation by human hands. The intricacy and grandeur of the stars, each one twinkling with its own unique radiance, mirrored the divine artistry that only God could conceive. With but a simple word, He breathed life into existence, and in the womb of the morning, fashioned us in His image. Astonishing, indeed, was the magnitude of His craftsmanship.

And yet, amidst this breathtaking splendor, I find myself pondering my own insignificance. Who am I, that the Lord would even consider me? So often I am clouded by my own weaknesses, barely a flicker in the vastness of His creation. Yet, even in my frailty, His mercy reaches out, a fortifying stream that never runs dry. It is a question that recites within in me, echoing through the chambers of my soul, “Who am I that such a great God would descend from His heavenly glory, tenderly wiping away the heavy droplets of my tears?”

You, O Lord, who sculpted the majestic hosts of angels that sing before Your magnificent throne, know me intimately. In the depths of my ponderings, I often wonder what it is that You see in me. In a world that often entangles me with its cares and distractions, it is easy to lose sight of the wonders that surround us. At the end of each weary day, when our hearts are depleted and our weariness overtakes us, it becomes easier to shut down, to forget. And yet, in those moments of desolation, I am reminded of how deeply You care. For you, O Lord, are the Creator of all, the sustainer of life, and the weaver of miracles. In the midst of this vast cosmos, You have set your eyes upon me. It is in Your boundless love and unfathomable mercy that I find solace, that I find purpose. So, dear soul, let not the cares of life blind you to the majesty and grace that surrounds us.

Seek to dwell in the awe of His wonders, to drink from the wellspring of His unfailing love. For even in our darkest hour, His presence shines a luminous path to guide us in all our ways

Author Darlene J Conard

“Lord, I thank You for every trial. I thank You for they have caused me to draw closer to You. I thank You for planting my feet here in my town. Thank you for every closed door that’s escorted by an open door. Thank You for the good and bad experiences; through them, I’ve witnessed Your faithfulness, love, mercy, and grace. Thank You, Lord, for trusting me with it all. Father, thank You for having confidence in me when I or others haven’t.”

  ^“In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Giving thanks for trials, diverse temptations, closed doors, or betrayal to me didn’t feel like a celebration in the least. It took something devastating to teach me -why and how- giving thanks for such things is a powerful tool.

“My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing. James 1:2-4 KJV

It indicates that “I’m on the right track.” You’re on the right track!  Fiery trials will either make or break us.

Jesus fasted and prayed in the wilderness for forty days to gain power over self-will. The devil tempted him three times. First, he drew him to turn stones into bread, but it didn’t work. Secondly, he carried Jesus to the Pinnacle of the temple at a terrifying height: a 450-foot drop down to the valley below. Research it; its equivalents can be compared to a 45-story building. “If You are the Son of God, throw Yourself down. For it is written, (here we go) “He shall give His angels charge over you, and in their hands, they shall bear You up, in case you dash your foot against a stone.” Thirdly, he carries Jesus to the Bible on an exceedingly high mountain, saying, “All this I’ll give You, the world and all its glory if You bow to me. Each time, Jesus hit him with the word. Satan used, -if- if You are the Son of God to hopefully manipulate Him into taking the bait. He also used “for it is written.” Satan knows the word well. He twists it deviously, making it sound like the truth. That’s why it’s so important to stay in prayer. Let our ears and hearts be sensitive to the distinct sound of God’s voice. Know the Bible, “Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world.” (1 John 4:1). Satan believes the word more than we do. That’s why he manipulates our weakness. He knows that getting on our knees and earnestly praying will change us and those around us.  

Every trial that’s come my way has taught me just how faithful He is. It taught me to empty myself to fill overflowing with Him. They have caused me to draw nearer to Him. He will envelop us with His gentle embrace. “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.” … James 4:8

Jesus could eat after the fast. Satan wanted Him to stop. He knew afterward he and his demons would be evicted, cast out of those he possessed. (Paraphrasing) Jesus, if You are who You -say -You are, jump off this 450-foot temple. Angels will speedily come to our rescue.” Bloodshed, he knew that Jesus’ blood had power. As far as Satan handing Him the world and all its glory, He didn’t need it. Jesus knew, thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.  (Matthew 6:9) The Son of God was tempted with suicide. I say suicide because Satan knew God should not be drawn.

My point in speaking of this is Satan knows that God has a plan. He believes it more than we do. If we pray, seeking God’s face, the trial will make us a better person, closer to God .

In the depths of my soul, I knew that giving thanks for trials and temptations seemed paradoxical, almost counterintuitive. But it was through these fiery tests that I learned the true power of gratitude. For in the face of adversity, my faith had been tested and refined, forging a patience and strength within me that I never knew existed.

Like Jesus wandering in the wilderness, fasting and praying for forty days, I too had faced the temptations of self-will. The devil, crafty and sly, sought to entice me with his tantalizing offers. But I stood strong, just as Jesus did, armed with the word of God as my shield. The devil twisted the scripture, using it as a snare to catch me in his web of deceit. But I resolutely clung to prayer, discerning the true voice of God amidst the noise.

Through these trials and tests, I had tasted the goodness of the Lord, experienced His unwavering love and boundless grace. Each hurdle had brought me closer to Him, for when I drew near to God, He drew near to me, enveloping me in His gentle embrace. It was in the midst of these storms that I emptied myself, allowing His presence to fill me to overflowing.

But let me not forget that the devil, too, had his motives and schemes. He knew that God had a divine plan for me, a destiny that he sought to hinder and sabotage. Yet, he believed in God’s plan more fervently than I did. This revelation struck me like a lightning bolt, awakening me to the importance of prayer. Satan knew that when we kneel before the Lord in earnest supplication, powerful transformation occurs within us and those around us.

And so, I embraced each trial as a springboard for growth, as an opportunity to draw nearer to the One who holds all things in His hands. For every closed door was but a prelude to an open one, and every trial was but a steppingstone towards perfection and wholeness.

Author Darlene J Conard

 

 I know I need to, but I don’t want to. This is the part I say earnestly, “The flesh is weak, but the spirit is willing! Pulling everything out of my utility room meant finding what was junk, yet it would make an excellent treasure for someone else. My foyer is going to look like a hoarder’s paradise. Dust will settle on another few inches of dust, making my apartment look like the sweeper blew up. Digging for space to create a path to and from rooms is a pain! God only knows how long it will take me to organize everything neatly.

So much truth is in that! Chaos creates an overwhelming atmosphere.  

 

What if I told you that chaos is a tool for God? “No, He isn’t the author of confusion.

(1 Corinthians 14:33 KJV) He works in it.

 

In the book of Esther, Haman’s lust for power drove him to deceive the king. All it took was the right strategy since he was the king’s righthand man, no problem! “Here is the plan. I’ll convince King Ahasuerus that the Jews are enemies.” Mordecai knew Esther was in the right place at the right time. He depended on his niece, whom he raised as his own, to intercede on their behalf.  (Read the book of Esther)

 

Arrogance led Haman straight into the very snare he built for Mordecai. Chaos ceased in God’s time. Israel was spared.

 

Jesus, when coming into Bethsaida, was stopped, for there was a need for a miracle by a blind man. “Touch him, my Lord.” (Mark 8:22-20) First, He touched his eyes with his spit. “What do you see?’ The blind man looks up. I see men as trees, walking.” The first time, he didn’t truly see. Remember getting your eyes examined? Drops are put in your eyes to dilate them. It’s overwhelming wanting to see clearly. Jesus, the second time, placed his hands upon his eyes. His eyes were restored as though he could always see. Chaos only lasted for a moment, then, by the touch of the Master’s hands, order.  

 

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”   Romans 8:28 KJV

 

God puts things that are out of order in proper order. Before that can be done, everything has to be out of place and in the wrong place. Don’t worry. He had already made a path. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” (Psalms 119:105 KJV)

Our natural sight betrays us. Focus on what God said He would do.  “I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go. I will guide thee with mine eye.” (Psalm 32:8 KJV) His eye is our compass. It says eye. “The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.”  Single vision is a term that throws me in a loop when ordering glasses online. It taught me something valuable, though. The two lenses are created for optical correction for a single distance, meaning only one. Focus is one way, not two, three, or four. Jesus says, “But if thine eye is evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness; how great is that darkness!”  Proverbs says, ^“Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.”  In order to have an open vision, we mustn’t be blinded by our circumstances and believe in a physical manifestation of God’s order.

“The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.”

                                             Helen Keller

 

Author Darlene J Conard

But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.2 Peter 3:8 KJV

“Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding.”  Isaiah 40:28   KJV

“Darlene, will you still believe Me when years pass, and the vision terries?”

“Yes.”

“Will you refuse to walk away when things get rough and ragged?”

“Yes, Lord You know that I will.”

“Will you continue on when you are told you will never make it in this world?” Taking deep breaths, I breathed out, “Lord thou knowest all things.”

“That’s not why I’m asking you. I do know. I want a verbal acknowledgment from your lips. For you will enter the test of time concerning certain promises. It will either break or make you.”

I recall the countless times God gave me visions and dreams that I questioned. Some of those took place five years down the road. My attendance at a lady’s conference wasn’t pleasant at all. One morning I experienced release.

Passionately the praise team sang, “Burn in me, let the fire of the holy One burn in me.” The lyrics went on to say, “Let the fire of the holy One burn in me.” God, I need You to come down and hold me. Please meet me! That still small voice wasn’t so small- it was mighty.

 “Give it to Me. Every single piece. Withhold nothing.” Slowly surrendering I unclenched my tight-fisted hands.

The dimly lit room created an atmosphere of expectancy and self-examination. The air was heavy with the weight of the future, as I sat there, feeling after the heart of God in my own special way. His voice resonated with a blend of tenderness compelling me to answer His probing questions.

“Darlene, will you still believe Me when years pass, and the vision terries?” His presence bore into my soul, searching for a steadfast determination.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. The unwavering faith I possessed echoed in my words, a declaration of my commitment to trust in His timing. He continued, “Will you refuse to walk away when things get rough and ragged? When the storms rage and the waves threaten to engulf your faith?”

“Yes, Lord,” I responded with conviction, my voice growing stronger. “You know that I will stand firm. My faith will not waver in the face of adversity.”

God’s presence penetrated every single part of my soul, as He continued asking, “Will you continue on when you are told you will never make it in this world? When others mock your dreams and belittle you for believing?”

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of determination within me. “Lord, thou knowest all things,” I uttered, acknowledging His omniscience.

But He wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more than just an internal acceptance. He sought a verbal confirmation, a spoken commitment that would anchor me in the test of time. For He knew that there would come a day when doubts would creep in, when the promises seemed distant and impossible.

I reminisced about the countless moments where He had unveiled visions and dreams that left me questioning. Some of those revelations were five years down the road, seemingly out of reach. With closed eyes I recalled , a memory of a lady’s conference where my soul had encountered a tumultuous wrestling.

One morning, as the room pulsed with anticipation, the praise team took the stage. Their voices soared, resounding the lyrics with an intensity that penetrated the depths of my being. “Burn in me, let the fire of the holy One burn in me,” they sang, their voices a resounding cry of surrender.

In that moment, I felt a desperate need for God to come down, to hold me close and meet me in the midst of my uncertainty. And then, in the midst of the music, I heard it. His voice, not a mere whisper but a mighty roar.

“Give it to Me. Every single piece. Withhold nothing,” He declared, cutting through the chaos of doubt that clouded my heart.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I slowly unclenched my tightly wound fists, releasing my fears, doubts, and insecurities. Every ounce of my being surrendered to Him, to His plans, and to the promises He had spoken over me.

In that moment, I understood the magnitude of His questions. It wasn’t about Him gaining insights into my heart. Rather, it was an invitation to embrace the test of time, to allow His promises to shape and refine me. It was an invitation to rise above the challenges, to emerge unbroken and stronger than ever before.

And with each breath, I vowed to hold onto my belief, to walk steadfastly through the rough terrain, and to press onward, undeterred by the naysayers. For I knew that in those moments of testing, I would find the depth of my faith, and it would be there that my true strength would be unveiled.