Delightfully Terrible

By Allen L. Perry

I know God still speaks to His children today. He has spoken in the past, He still speaks today, and will continue speaking in the future to anyone. Throughout my Christian life, God has spoken to me. He speaks through His Word, His Holy Spirits gifts of utterance, preachers/teachers, dreams, my spouse and friends, through songs and music, subtle impulses, and through dramatic experiences. Once He has my attention, He will do everything necessary to impress upon my spirit the things He wants to teach me. Next to learning how to recognize His voice, the recurring theme has been that He is teaching me the importance of obedience! He wants me to stop and wait upon the Lord. Next, He wants me to listen to what He is saying to say to me, because, my sheep know my voice He wants me to follow Him since He [already] knows the way that I take And finally, He asks me to be faithful and obedient because For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; Every mans work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every mans work of what sort it is.

Submit your life to Jesus Christ, and allow Him to be your Lord. He will speak His will for your life in clear, undeniable ways.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Aug 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449760380

Allen L. Perry

Allen Perry wrote and produced marketing copy for two employers for more than fifty years. Meanwhile, he wrote educational materials: Sunday school lessons, youth activity planners, staff newsletters, and adult curriculum for his church. It wasn’t until 2011 that he was urged to convey his humbling experiences while walking by faith in Christ. Allen lives with his wife, Alice, in Jefferson City, Missouri. He is the father of three adult sons and proud grandfather to five granddaughters and one grandson. In addition to recreational writing, he especially enjoys photography and digital graphic art. Favorite physical activities include gardening, landscaping, and general handyman fix-it activities around the house.

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Delightfully

Terrible

Allen L. Perry

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Copyright © 2012 Allen L. Perry

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-6037-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-6036-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-6038-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012913149

WestBow Press rev. date: 08/22/2012

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1      Rooted and Grounded

Chapter 2      Why am I Here?

Chapter 3      His Angels’ Charge – To Keep Thee Safe

Chapter 4      This World is Not My Home

Chapter 5      Give and It Shall Be Given Unto You

Chapter 6      It Pays to be Kind

Chapter 7      Living Like Bible Heroes

Chapter 8      Experiencing God’s Grace and Blessings

Chapter 9      The Battle is the Lord’s

Chapter 10      Restore to Me the Joy of Thy Salvation

Chapter 11      God Looks After His Sheep

Chapter 12      Be Strong, Take Heart, God is With You

Chapter 13      Finding Grace to Help in the Time of Need

Chapter 14      He Will Always Be There for Us

Chapter 15      He Giveth More Grace

Chapter 16      Keep on Doing What You Are Doing

Chapter 17      Divine Appointments

Chapter 18      Heavenly Interventions, Divine Intrusions

Chapter 19      Seven Steps to Forgiveness

Chapter 20      I’ve Got Something Better For You

Chapter 21      Delightfully Terrible

Chapter 22      I’m Going to Sell Your House

Chapter 23      Why Am I Here?

Chapter 24      A Work in Progress

Chapter 25      It is Never Too Soon – Never Too Late

Afterword

To my dear wife, Alice:

You encouraged me to stay true to my purpose.

Without your unconditional love, I might have given up.

"For even if the mountains walk away

and the hills fall to pieces,

My love won’t walk away from you,

my covenant commitment of peace won’t fall apart."

– Isaiah 54:9-10

Preface

On Tuesday, November 15, 2011, at 4:25 a.m., I was lying in bed, half awake—half asleep. My thoughts turned to my writing project, which I’d worked on continuously from June of this year until mid-August. Here it was mid-November and I had not written a word for nearly three months.

Prior to this hiatus, I was writing every day—morning, afternoon, evening, and late into the night. Back then, I had completed a number of chapters, but feeling great peace, satisfaction, and fulfillment after completing the most recent chapter, I looked for an excuse to take a break from writing. Then on Friday, August 19, 2011, at 5:30 a.m., I was jarred out of drowsiness and God spoke to my spirit. It was almost as if He was demanding that I take a breather from writing. He insisted:

Take time!

Take time!

Take time and refresh!

Take time and refresh and be restored!

I went immediately to my writing desk, found a note pad and pen, and wrote down those exact words. This directive from the Lord—while it did not surprise me—puzzled me.

On that Tuesday morning in November, lying in bed, I was awakened to a significant detail in my developing book. I wrote about what I consider the most supernatural happening I’ve experienced in my walk with the Lord. In this particular chapter, I also share Psalm 143, in which David writes under the direction of the Holy Spirit about the subjects of deliverance and guidance.

Hear my prayer, O Lord, give an ear to my supplications: in thy faithfulness answer me, and in thy righteousness.

For the enemy hath persecuted my soul; he hath smitten my life down to the ground; he hath made me to dwell in darkness, as those that have been long dead. Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate.

I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I think on the work of thy hands.

I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul thirsts after thee, as a thirsty land. Selah.

Hear me speedily, O Lord; my spirit faileth: hide not thy face from me, lest I be like unto them that go down into the pit.

Cause me to hear thy loving-kindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee. Deliver me, O Lord, from mine enemies: I flee unto thee to hide me.

Teach me to do thy will; for thou art my God: thy Spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness.

Quicken me, O Lord, for thy name’s sake: for thy righteousness’ sake bring my soul out of trouble.

And of thy mercy cut off mine enemies, and destroy all them that afflict my soul: for I am thy servant.

(Psalm 143)

I got out of bed and read those words. Then I waited on the Lord for inspiration and felt moved to reflect on at least two powerful reasons as to why God would lead me to that portion of His Word at that precise time.

There was one clue—I sensed that I was being drawn to remember the precise details of how God had allowed me to be used in rescuing a friend from self-destruction many years ago. And how that very chapter—Psalm 143—was a dramatic part of that experience. So why was God now refreshing my mind and spirit on that potentially tragic event that happened so long ago?

Next, I considered the second reason why Psalm 143 had my attention. His plan was not as obvious until an incident occurred on Sunday, November 29, 2011. I began to conclude that God was on the verge of opening Himself up to me once again. Perhaps now was the time for Him to more thoroughly reveal Himself to me through my writing.

God will simply stop at nothing to impress upon my spirit what He wants to teach me. First of all, the recurring theme at this point in my life is that He is emphasizing the importance of obedience! He wants me to stop what I’m doing and wait upon the Lord.

Next, He is asking me to listen to what He is trying to say to me, because my sheep know my voice.

Then, He wants me to follow His leading. Why? He [already] knows the way that I take (Job 23:10 NIV).

And finally, He wanted me to be found faithful and obedient as judged by my Savior, because if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; Every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is (1 Corinthians 3:12-13).

On Sunday morning, November 20, 2011, I woke with a slight chill that signaled the possible ambush of a new bout with a cold or even flu. So I announced to my wife that I was going to stay in and not go to church that morning. Without delay, I wrapped myself in a nice warm blanket and proceeded to work on about a gallon of coffee while alternating between watching a host of Christian TV programs and dozing off for a brief nap or two. At 10:00 a.m., I logged on to the morning worship service at First Assembly of God in Fort Myer, Florida, where Dan Betzer is pastor. After all of the preliminaries, Pastor Betzer announced the text for his sermon—Psalm 143!

What?! You’ve got to be kidding me! I thought. What could God possibly be trying to tell me now? Now hold on to your seats, boys and girls; more fun is about to begin. Midway through that sermon, Pastor Betzer referred to the Dottie Rambo song, Remind Me Dear Lord, the same song I had recently heard on a Christian television program. He quoted the very line asking God to show us from where He’s brought us and where we might have been. They were the same lyrics I had sung off and on for the past three or four days!

Okay, God. What’s up? I thought.

Like David, I prayed that God would not hide His face from me, but that I would continue to experience His favor.

I prayed that God would guide and direct me in all my ways as I pursued His bidding.

Likewise, I prayed that my spirit constantly would be quickened by and in Him.

Furthermore, I prayed that God would quickly deliver me out of all my difficulties.

Finally, I prayed that I might not grumble and complain—without wasting time seeking the reason why these difficulties may have come my way.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Mary and Kevin for helping me through my darkest hours; Daniel and Diana for their friendship and encouragement when I needed it the most; my three boys and their families for not giving up on me when I seemed to be floundering; Lowell and Joy for seeing my potential to write when I was unable to recognize it myself; and Dawn for her wise counsel and direction through the publishing process.

I also thank my dear wife, Alice, who not only encouraged me, but also insisted that I get back on track when I digressed and doubted myself. She allowed me the absolute freedom of time and attention needed to bring this project to completion. Alice was a great editor, advisor, and counselor. She was faithful in giving her attention to this work and fearless in her insistence that I stay true to my purpose for writing, reminding me that God was my inspiration and motivation.Introduction

I am convinced that God still speaks. He has spoken in the past; He still speaks today; and scattered through all of my Christian life, God has spoken convincingly to me. He has spoken to me through His preachers/teacher, through songs and music, through dreams, through my spouse and friends, and because of dramatic personal events or happenings. God has spoken strongly to my spirit—even to the point of being so strong that His voice is nearly audible to me. Most recently and most convincingly, He has spoken in several conversational dialogues. God speaks to me, and I respond to Him. Recently through these dramatic conversations with God, I have become fully convinced that He is in the process of working out His perfect will for my life at this time as He reveals details to me. The fact that He is doing this has dramatically countered my perceived spiritual uselessness and purposelessness that has severely troubled me since I retired from active employment. (Emphasis mine.)

And he said unto them, is a candle brought to be put under a bushel, or under a bed? And not to be set on a candlestick? For there is nothing hid, which shall not be manifested; neither was anything kept secret, but that it should come abroad. If any man has ears to hear, let him hear . . . [That would be me—I hear from God all of the time]; And he said unto them, Take heed to what you hear: [Listen carefully] with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you: and unto you that hear shall more be given. [Because I have much more to give—you’ll be hearing more from me!]; For he that hath [or heard], to him shall be given [or hear more]: and he that hath not, from him shall be taken even that which he hath. (Mark 4: 21-25)

Understand that I did not write the book of Mark and much less verses twenty-one through twenty-five. I believe God wrote them. I also believe that He wrote it before the beginning of time. Later, He inspired the apostle Mark to put it in writing, which God then included in the original cannon of His Word—the Bible.

I had taken a break from writing, but God began urging me to resume in a dramatic way. He chose to do so by directing my reading to Mark 4 one morning, and His spirit quickened me to see this word in the light of recent and frequent talks He’d had with me in such clear tones. This further convinced me that He is also the author of my life and the originator of the outrageous experiences about which I write in this book. I can’t contrive them, nor can I orchestrate them. They are beyond my imagination. Father God, the creator of all things, is in charge.

While I don’t know what God is up to, I am convinced that it has to be good. One thing I believe for certain is that He is now urging me to resume my writing as He did in June when He impressed me to begin this project. My work was cut out for me, because at that time, it was only one-third complete.

I declare that:

God is alive.

His Holy Spirit dwells in me.

He is thoroughly involved in the daily routines of my life.

In addition, He wants me to listen carefully to Him.

He wants to accomplish now what He planned for me before the beginning of time.

My job is to not mess it up.

Please help me, Lord.

What you hold in your hands now, is the record (but only a small part) of what God has done, is doing, and eventually will do, in and through one of His sheep.

– Allen L. Perry

Chapter 1

Rooted and Grounded

Peace in the Midst of the Storm

My early life in the Perry home was chaotic, to say the least. When I was born in 1934, everyone in the world was still reeling from the effects of the Great Depression. The eye of that storm lingered over our home for several years.

However, Jesus spoke peace to the tempest in the very middle of all the chaos, and mercifully there was at least a touch of peacefulness in the midst of all the turmoil. Thankfully, the majority of my family was inspired by God’s redeeming grace, even though economic times kept us far below what would be today’s poverty level.

One of my favorite Bible stories—and a perfect picture of our lives back then—is found in Mark 4. While Jesus and His disciples crossed the sea in a boat, a violent storm arose and the disciples panicked. They woke Jesus with this question: Master, carest thou not that we perish?

Jesus simply arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea… ‘Peace, be still.’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm (Mark 4:39).

The complete story is this:

And he began… to teach by the sea side… And the same day, when the even was come, he said unto them, Let us pass over unto the other side. And when they had sent away the multitude, they took him even as he was in the ship. And there were also with him other little ships. And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full. And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. And he said unto them, why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith? And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, what manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him? (Mark 4:35-41)

We are given the formula for survival in the following Scripture:

For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, that he would grant you, according to the riches of his glory, to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man; that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which passes knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fullness of God.(Ephesians 3:14-19)

As a young boy growing up, I had only a brief opportunity to build a strong foundation. Looking back, I can assure you that the single and most important influence in my early life was learning how to pray and then witnessing the miraculous results of those prayers. My foundation, or roots, had a profound influence on me. As I arrive at each new season in my life without having strayed too far from my foundation I realize how important it was for me to learn how to walk close to the Lord and place my complete trust in Him. And God has blessed me beyond all I could ask or think.

Returning to the formation of my spiritual moorings, the hopelessness of rank poverty became even more complicated when my mother died on Christmas Day in 1939-two days after my fifth birthday. I was the sixth of eight children. When she went home to be with the Lord, my youngest brother was just four months old. Her death capsized our tattered home, and my father never fully recovered from that loss or its associated trauma. In spite of this, he was able to keep our family together, but not without a deluge of problems.

My oldest sister, who was third in the birthing order, had only been in the tenth grade for a few weeks when my father pulled her out of school to assume the role of mother to a four-month-old baby and six additional siblings. However, she was much too young and no match for the demands of a grieving widower, seven siblings, and all the challenges, failures, and disappointments that were thrust upon her. My father realized that he had to do something, so he began to search for a housekeeper. He needed someone who could come to our house during the day, look after us kids, cook, do the laundry, and clean the house. At the end of the day, she would go back to her own home and then return the next day and start all over.

While this may have seemed like a reasonable idea, the first candidate lasted only a few days. There were just too many kids and too much work for too little pay. The next one was no better, nor the one after that. The housekeeper idea quickly turned into colossal nightmare.

There was a glimmer of hope on the horizon, though. I’m not sure what our family’s connection was with the tiny, independent Pentecostal church in our town; I never heard. What I do know is that whatever the relationship, it figured prominently in my childhood and helped define a strong foundation for my spiritual life. That foundation has served me well for over seventy years.

What happened next can only be described as God’s sympathetic intervention into a very desperate family situation. In His infinite wisdom and provision, He blessed our family with a spirit-filled widow whose reputation for knowing how to pray and get in touch with God was well-known in her small farming community. She possessed a solid faith and believed the Lord could calm every storm!

The widow was skilled and experienced in communicating with God. When He spoke to her heart, she knew it was God, and she was ready to obey. She was ready to move on to meeting the next challenge. God had a huge assignment for His faithful follower, and the lady who would eventually become my stepmother was ready for His orders. As she testified many times over, God spoke clearly to her heart and told her there was a family in a nearby city whose mother had died, leaving a new baby and a large family in dire need of help. For Hazel Maude Law-Johnson, who had just experienced the death of her own husband, that was enough for her to set out on a mission from her struggling farm home in the southeast corner of our county to find that family.

But where would she begin to look? and how could she possibly find this family? Having recently experienced the death of her own husband, she would set out to find the family of which God had clearly alerted her.

The most logical place for her to begin the search was a small Pentecostal church with a reputation for having great faith, a great ministry, and a heart for winning souls to the Lord. With a little help, she located the church. Its pastor, Reverend Renner, was at home in the parsonage next door. She explained to him that God had shown her a family in desperate need of a mother, and the pastor knew the family she spoke of.

Pastor Renner introduced Mrs. Johnson to my father. They came to a quick agreement on the details, and she assumed the responsibilities of the Perry family home immediately. She was later to become the only mother I ever knew—ever so briefly.

After some time—and more out of the appearance of propriety than compatibility and love—my father and our housekeeper were married. My four oldest siblings had already moved out to live on their own by then, leaving the four youngest of us at home with our father and new mother. In the seven years my stepmother lived with us, she guided us through the basics of learning to walk with the Lord. She taught us not only the basics of placing our trust in God for our daily needs, but how to pray for absolutely everything.

During this time, my dad experienced many spiritual ups and downs. He was down more than up. Sadly, when he was down spiritually, he was very ugly and abusive toward my mother and us kids. He vented his frustration by spewing anger at all of us, and we were equal-opportunity targets for his exasperation. We kids sustained regular beatings, while our mother bore the brunt of his verbal thrashings.

However, this did not deter my mother from doing what God had called her to do. Sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, she would gather the four of us around her. We prayed for my dad every day until he got back on track and found his way to the Lord.

One of my father’s vices during his spiritual lows was smoking, and tobacco held its nasty grip on him for most of his life. We prayed for his deliverance and, eventually, he gained victory over it and would give up smoking until the next time he stumbled. When his problems got the best of him, he returned to the evil of tobacco. Then we would pray again until he gave it up, and thus the cycle continued. All the while, my brothers and I were learning valuable lessons on prayer and dependence upon God.

There was never enough money for doctors, dentists, or prescriptions, so we did the only thing we could—pray. We prayed our way through every test we faced. This is not to make light of my mother, but she was not shy when it came to petitioning God. So just in case God might have been hard of hearing or simply not paying attention at the moment, my mother prayed loud enough so He and the neighbors could hear.

Her prayers were not brief, nor were they simple. She bombarded heaven with faith-filled declarations such as: We plead the blood!, We come against you, Satan, in the name of Jesus!, We claim power and victory over this attack of you, Satan, and we claim it in Jesus’ holy name! She fired off powerful, spiritual mortars toward heaven nearly every day. Problems took no vacations at our house, but my stepmother knew how to pray! All the while, four little boys were learning the basics of leaning on Jesus.

Our mother prayed over the garden. She prayed when she cooked, and she prayed as she mended and sewed clothes for us. She prayed over canning fruit and vegetables. She prayed when she did the laundry with water kept hot on an old wood-burning cook stove. She prayed when she ironed with a heavy flatiron heated on that same faithful stove. The fire was never allowed to burn down or grow cold in summer or winter. Neither did she grow cold in her spiritual life. A constant, spiritual, roaring blaze burned inside her! Mother’s faith soared!

And she prayed lustily as she baked bread. This was a very important prayer, mainly because she had ten mouths to feed. She baked bread one day each week and she used a large, galvanized washtub to mix the dough.

The problem here was that we had two of those washtubs. She mixed and raised bread in one. On Saturday nights, we took turns bathing in the second washtub. Now, when you are trying to balance your attention between four to eight kids and an unhappy husband, along with a dozen other things going on in your mind, you really don’t have time to figure out which tub is used for bread and which is used for bathing. So she simply forged ahead, pleading the blood of Jesus over the process. That said, you can probably understand why I am not a big fan of bread, biscuits, or rolls to this day.

My mother took no chances. If she even thought there was a potential problem looming on the horizon, she would simply burst out in full volume, Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! Just in case she might eventually need His help. Often, in moments of gratitude, she would erupt with Glory, Hallelujah, or Praise you, Jesus! even in places that embarrassed to no end my poor spiritually challenged father.

She also understood the value of bombarding God with her petitions and her praises, so she would cut loose with what she felt was the appropriate thanksgiving or praise, regardless of where she was or who might be standing nearby. When it came to things pertaining to the Lord, she had no reservations and certainly no fear.

When you have a house full of youngsters, the meager income my dad earned slaving on the kill floor of a local beef packing plant didn’t go nearly far enough. His weekly paycheck was scrawny to say the least, and there was hardly ever enough make ends meet. As the saying goes, Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I can still hear my mother praying over our old ’29 Nash’s gas tank, which always seemed to teeter precariously on the edge of empty. On our way to church, and knowing that we probably did not have enough gas to get us there and back, she didn’t mind calling out loudly to God to get us to church and back without us getting stranded at the side of the road. Her call for God’s emergency roadside service kept us moving down the road. I don’t recall us ever running out of gas while driving to church or returning home.

Then there was the time we were returning from church and got caught in a vehicle equipment traffic check. We sat in a line of cars four blocks long on our town’s elevated viaduct, so there was no place to turn around and avoid the police stop.

When it came our turn in the line, the police officer strolled to my dad’s window. May I see your driver’s license, sir?

My dad complied.

We’re checking for faulty equipment tonight, the officer said. Would you turn on your lights and pump your brake pedal, please?

My dad knew our brake lights didn’t work, and he said so under his breath as the policeman walked to the rear of our pathetic car. My mother could smell a disaster brewing, and she was not about to sit idly by on the sideline. To her, the proper thing to do was pray. Besides embarrassing my dad, and startling the officers nearly out of their uniforms, my mother cut loose with one of her patented We plead the blood. We plead the blood of Jesus. Lord help us now! I believe today’s theologians would sanctimoniously refer to these as kindly supplications. I like to think of them as spiritual hand grenades my mother lobbed in the direction of the cops just to even the sides. My dad knew she was insisting on a brake light miracle, but he was nonetheless embarrassed beyond remedy.

We kids also knew she was demanding a working brake light miracle on the back of that old Nash. And God certainly understood without her having to spell out the pending consequences of having nonexistent brake lights, but she reminded Him, anyway. However, her prayer had to be brief and to the point. After all, the officer was less than ten feet from the driver’s window to the rear of the car.

We plead the blood. We plead the blood of Jesus, she insisted.

Wouldn’t you know that the nice police officer promptly returned to the car window and said as he handed the license back to my dad, Everything is just fine, sir. Have a good evening. Well, this certainly did not go unnoticed by my mother, and what better time than right now to give credit to where credit was due. So she did what she knew best and burst out in her patented eardrum-splitting praises, Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! as my dad hurried down the road.

Unfortunately, my parents only remained together for about seven years before they finally decided that they were no longer compatible. Consequently, the marriage was dissolved, but not before God used the brief time she was with us to teach us kids what it meant to love the Lord and really live for Him. Her lessons were taught by example. Her prayers routinely changed matters. There really was nothing too big for our God.

After the divorce, and at the age of fourteen, I was once again without a mother. But those seven years of spiritual boot camp stuck with me through the rest of my life.

I consider the following description of a dramatic experience to be profoundly foundational to my Christian life. I prefer to see it as pivotal in preparation for fulfilling Christ’s purpose for my life.

The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand. Once I was young, and now I am old. Yet I have never seen the godly abandoned or their children begging for bread. (Psalm 37:23-25 NLT)

Even as early as my late teens, this process that had begun with my step-mother continued by spawning more confidence within me. I learned that the spiritual person residing inside me had to be constantly fed and well-nurtured if I hoped to please my Savior. Verse 23 above tells us [t]he Lord directs the steps of the godly." He is delighted when we do right. I sincerely wanted Him to be pleased with my life.

Growing Deeper in the Lord

Having reached my early twenties, I was careful to continue walking with the Lord. More than anything else, I was determined to become the person that God wanted me to be. Like anyone else striving to become more Christ-like, I soon learned what I had to do—and it came as no surprise to me.

We’ve all heard it preached and taught and seen it repeatedly written—spend more time studying His Word; have a regular prayer time; and become actively involved in a local church and its ministries. I believe that there is one additional step which is often overlooked, but is nonetheless equally important: we must make ourselves available to serve the Lord in whatever way He challenges and equips us.

God was working in my heart over several years. However, there came a definite time and place when God clearly opened my heart to His leading. I know precisely where God revealed this to me and when I