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Masterpieces of The Master: Twelve Women, Twelve Remarkable Journeys...
Masterpieces of The Master: Twelve Women, Twelve Remarkable Journeys...
Masterpieces of The Master: Twelve Women, Twelve Remarkable Journeys...
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Masterpieces of The Master: Twelve Women, Twelve Remarkable Journeys...

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In calling her ‘a little dog’ publicly, He triggered the memory of her husband’s derogatory comments. Desiree found herself at a crossroads. She had a choice. Would she continue to view herself the same way in this new life she was creating, or would she rise above it with a new mentality?


Twelve women, twelve stories. Adversity, heartache. Compassion, faith. Joy, laughter.


Journey with these women through a range of emotions. Admire their tenacity and strength in this complex experience called life.


Then marvel at The Master, skilfully using their faith to lovingly stroke each teardrop, with the brush of His fingers. Be inspired as He weaves the many strands of their lives until finally, culminating in beautiful works of art - masterpieces!


Will you trust Him to create a masterpiece out of your wounds?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 28, 2023
ISBN9781803137957
Masterpieces of The Master: Twelve Women, Twelve Remarkable Journeys...

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    Book preview

    Masterpieces of The Master - Dollys Y Crooks

    9781803137957.jpg

    MASTERPIECES

    of the Master

    DOLLYS Y CROOKS

    Copyright © 2023 Dollys Y Crooks

    The moral right of the author has been asserted.

    Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

    Matador

    Unit E2 Airfield Business Park,

    Harrison Road, Market Harborough,

    Leicestershire. LE16 7UL

    Tel: 0116 279 2299

    Email: books@troubador.co.uk

    Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador

    Twitter: @matadorbooks

    ISBN 9781803137957

    http://www.masterpiecesofthemaster.co.uk

    British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

    A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

    Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

    To my Master—now and forever! To my daughter, whose tenacity in life I so much admire.

    To my granddaughters, masterpieces in the making.

    To every woman who has gone through, is going through, or still has to go through.

    Contents

    Foreword

    Pilate asked a question of Jesus as he stood in front of him, ‘What is truth?’ It is a question still asked today centuries later. In this ever-changing and uncertain world, people crave stability and security, wanting to build their lives on an unchanging standard. They are still looking for ‘truth.’

    This book provides the certainty of biblical truth, sometimes wrapped in a twenty-first-century context—both refreshing and life-giving. The reader chapter by chapter, is led into the lives of women whose situation or circumstance has been changed forever by the healing truth of God’s touch and presence.

    Christians and non-Christians alike will find this book challenging and heart-stirring. It is my hope and prayer that it produces abundant and lasting fruit for all those who turn its pages.

    Pastor Chris Gill

    King’s Church, Gillingham, Kent

    Introduction

    Masterpiece: a work of art, made with consummate skill, complete, perfect, and supreme

    For a long time, I had thought to do a study on the least talked about women in the Bible who overcame great sorrow and pain. As I meditated on which character to commence with, Genesis 3:16 sprang to my mind.

    To the woman, He said:

    "I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; In pain you shall bring forth children;

    Your desire shall be for your husband, And He shall rule over you."

    The words greatly multiply your sorrow leapt out at me. Ever since the Garden of Eden, women from every culture, creed, and race can identify with these words, experiencing much suffering as they go about their daily lives. At times, the pain is unbearable, yet down through the aeons of time, we see biblical women overcoming the seasons of adversity their lives brought them. That was the essence of my study. How did they do it, considering the above scripture?

    Then I turned to the book of Esther and read where Haman, one of King Ahasuerus’ advisers, persuaded him to sign a decree for the destruction of the Jews. I saw that once a law was written in the king’s name and sealed with his ring, it became irrevocable. When Esther, his queen, revealed her Jewish identity to him, although he loved her, he could not reverse his previous law. He could only pass a new one. This new law allowed the Jews to take up arms to defend and protect themselves.

    So, it was with Adam and Eve. They had one law to obey: do not eat from the tree of good and evil. Though that law was broken through deception, God did not nullify the consequences that followed its breaking. Instead, he instigated a new law because of his love for them—the law of faith! One day as I read about Jochebed (Exodus 6:20), the Holy Spirit whispered, Turn all you have studied into a book. I laughed aloud. A book? What do I know about writing a book? Try as I might, though, I just could not get rid of the thought. Eventually, I said, Lord, I will if You will help me.

    Soon after, I embarked upon writing Masterpieces of The Master, twelve chapters based on biblical women’s lives, some written within a twenty-first-century context. I marvelled at how they used the law of faith in diverse circumstances; some brutal, some heart-breaking, while others were defining moments of joy and realization of their worth that made them tenacious and bold. Experiencing a range of emotions— laughter, sadness, tears, delight, and admiration for them, I reminisced on my own life and the hardships I, too, overcame by this very law.

    I pray Masterpieces of The Master ministers to you in the same powerful way it did to me. May you experience freedom in whatever situation you face through the Saviour’s love.

    You will see that I have given names to those unnamed in the Bible and changed some of the original characters’ names, except, of course, the Master! As I have created stories around them, I would not have done the scriptures justice to retain their real names.

    Have you discovered this new law? You will find that you will reap huge rewards when you put it into action just as they did, and I keep doing. The Master’s ability to create masterpieces out of the suffering and trials of life is truly marvellous, and I am so grateful to be counted as one of them. And you can too.

    Whoever you are and whatever background you come from, please allow Him to create a masterpiece out of your life. Give him permission to use your wounds, your sorrow, and your hardships. Let him form a tapestry whose outside is beautiful and inspiring to look at—one which contains many strands of thread when seen on the reverse. All different colours and sizes, intricately weaving in and out, each telling a story; every strand a memory, some longing to be forgotten, others fondly remembered. No single strand makes sense on its own, but together they intertwine to create a work of art at which onlookers simply stand and stare in awe.

    But without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and

    that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. (Hebrews 11: 6)

    A Tribute

    To the memory of my mother, the late May-Elaine Eudora Stewart (nee Singh), a masterpiece God unveiled at the tender age of twenty-six.

    *

    Mother, in this unveiling, you left behind three strands of the most beautiful silk thread—two girls and one boy. Your tapestry in this remarkable and complex experience that is called life.

    *

    On the outside, we reveal a beautiful picture of you: your eldest daughter displaying your creativity; your son, your beauty; and I, your second daughter, your personality. However, peek on the reverse side, and you will see the pain and heartache of losing you when we were so young, of missing you, of having no one to turn to except each other, when life got rough.

    *

    I have mourned your loss all my life and sought for many to bridge the gap, only realizing after some fifty years and more that no one can ever fill such a high and lofty place in my life.

    *

    So, Mother, I dedicate the first chapter of this my first book to your memory—the first masterpiece in the lives of three strands of the choicest silk thread.

    *

    I know that Jesus is The Resurrection and The Life, and one day we shall hopefully meet with you again.

    A mother holds her children’s hands for a moment, but their hearts forever! (Unknown)

    Chapter 1

    The Master Calls

    I gathered up my garment and ran toward him, wanting so much to be near him. But, as I drew close, he held up his nail-pierced hands and stopped me.

    Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.’

    Then with that same wrinkled face and eyes so alive and full of compassion, he vanished.

    *

    Immediately, I fell to my knees, cupped my face in my hands and replayed our encounter in my mind. It seemed real and surreal at the same time. I was convinced now. Not only had Rabbi risen from the dead, but he had also spoken to me. I looked around at the beauty and tranquillity of the garden as daylight began to replace the darkness and recalled my reason for being there.

    *

    Three days ago, I had pushed my way to the front of a vast crowd to watch him. His body battered and bloodied as he struggled under the sheer weight of the crossbar. Several times, he stumbled and stooped while he made his way to the place of crucifixion. The crown of thorns the cruel soldiers had placed on his head, during scourging, drove its prickly spikes into the sides of his bruised face. Droplets of blood ran down onto his neck and upon the torn, tattered garment he wore. My heart pounded as though it would break into tiny pieces.

    How I had longed to help him carry that crossbar but knew I could not. It was not just my physical strength but my being a woman that also nullified this desire. The Romans would never have allowed it. Instead, I watched as a Roman soldier pointed to a man in the crowd, You! What’s your name?

    Simon. I’m from Cyrene.

    I don’t care where you’re from. Carry the cross! He commanded, shoving Simon toward it.

    I looked at Rabbi as Simon lifted the heavy burden from his shoulders and placed it on his own. I knew he saw me. For he smiled, then his lips moved as he whispered my name, gesturing through swollen eyes that everything was going to be all right.

    Unable to look at his agony any longer, I turned and pushed my way back through the crowd. Running as fast as I could and not caring where I was headed—just so long as it was far away from the scenes of the maddening crowd. Tired and weary, I found myself on a hill outside the city.

    Oh, no! I cried. "This is Golgotha, the place of a skull.

    It’s where he is heading to be crucified!"

    Finding a place to hide among the rocks, I sobbed until my tears subsided. I cried for the injustice carried out to a man who had only done good deeds to the poor and the outcast. A man who was now forced to bear the stigma and the castigation of the Jewish religious authorities: the Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees he had often denounced for their hypocritical ways and pompous ceremonies.

    *

    I recalled the day someone told me about Jesus, the Rabbi from Nazareth who was causing quite a stir, drawing crowds wherever he went. Reports were widespread that he performed miracles—casting out devils, healing the sick, making the blind see, and the deaf hear. It was said he was not even apprehensive about touching lepers and dining with tax collectors. Women were also rumoured to be among his followers. Healing? Cleansing lepers? Casting out devils? Women followers? These were all socio-religious codes he was breaking. Yet, some claimed he was the Messiah (Mashiach).

    Of course, from a child, I was aware of the Messiah and that he would be a descendant of King David, our greatest writer and psalmist. I had learned about Abraham, the father of our people, and Moses, whom Jehovah gave the Ten Commandments. But as a young girl, I loved the story of brave Queen Esther and her deeds that saved her people from destruction. Israel did not only have ‘heroes,’ we had ‘heroines’ too. But now that we were currently under Roman domination, the story rehearsed almost daily was that of this descendant. A deliverer. Oh, how most of my people looked forward to him overthrowing the Romans and making us a free and prosperous nation again.

    Could this possibly be Mashiach? I wondered. All my life, I had been taught that a woman’s place was in the home, cooking, cleaning, and looking after her husband and children, not following a rabbi in public. If he was Mashiach, he did not fit the image of the kind of redeemer we were looking for. Besides, we were still under Roman occupation.

    *

    Wrapping my shawl closer around me, I brightened up a little as I reminisced with fondness the day he came to my city and changed my life forever. That day throngs of people blocked the streets and gateways. Most with needs, others curious, like myself, wanting to witness the miracles he performed. Would it be possible for me to get a glimpse of him despite so many people? I pressed my way through the enthusiastic crowd; being pushed and shoved everywhere, I concluded it was all too much. I would wait for another day when all the fuss about him had died

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