Let Me Tell You One Thing

  Published by Broadman & Holman Publishers Nashville, Tennessee  c.2003 November 18, 2022 When I began this book, it had been on my shelf for a few years.  And like most books, they are around you, either you own them or you buy them, or possibly download them.  But these books can be around for a day, a week, a year or years and then suddenly, you find yourself reading them for no apparent reason. This book was picked up off my shelf of books basically because I was reading the book of John in the bible at the time, and wanted to know more about him.  When I start reading a book, I usually finish the book whether I like the book or not.  I must admit, this book was small print, three hundred thirty-four pages, and it took me some time to acquire a taste for Beth Moore's writing style.  Even though she is a well known speaker and author of multiple books and bible studies, I had never looked into her writings before, I had never heard her speak publicly before.  My main intere

One tiny baby, born on Christmas day,  Born in a stable in a land far away.   One tiny baby, lay in a manger,  One tiny baby who never showed anger!   This tiny baby, grew up as He should,  He grew to be a man, that did only good!   He was sent to us from the Father above,    Just to prove to us how great was His love!   Then He died on a cross to save us from sin,  So that we can, to the Father, boldly walk in!   So now we celebrate Christmas, but let's don't forget the cost,  Without the cross and Easter, then Christmas would be lost!   So when we exchange gifts remember the greatest gift of all,  "One tiny Baby" who from heaven did fall!   Just one tiny baby in one tiny hand,  Held the keys to the kingdom and to the soul of man!   Hattie Calihan Taylor won second place with this poem by the Society of American Poets 1994 Hattie was a faithful woman and gave many hand written and typed poems to her pastor, Clyde Johns. She was dependable, and was always

Read at Thelma Vickers Johns’ Funeral When you looked into her soft brown eyes, there was a knowing look that brought surprise. She was not a woman that held contemporary matters worth a cent, she was from a different era but knew what life really meant. In her younger days it was work that gave meaning to her life, tilling the soil, milking the cow, away from global problems of trouble and strife. It was a narrow world for her, this woman of the field, nothing was more important than Enoch and cooking him a meal. Bah! she would say to glitter and glitz, and no one could orchestrate a more passionate fit! When her fit was on, we would all back away! She could carry on and leave us nothing to say. But when the fit was over and she had settled down, she’d say “you want some eggs before you go back to town?” Many a morning when the dew was still on the ground, she would harvest her strawberries and beam at what she had found. Then off to the barn to milk her dear cow, making cream for our

  When things really pile up, I mean really pile up and you become so overwhelmed that staring at the wall seems good; there must be a path left open in our brain to find solace. I find those times especially taxing on everything that I normally use to regain composure and talk myself through whatever is going on. This  reminds me of the many times Saul of the bible felt this way, and he most always called for David who was so very skilled in playing soothing music for him. The best thing always is to have a plan, for we never know when these times will catch us so unprepared to deal with them.  If you have a favorite soothing piece of music that can rest your mind coupled perhaps with beautiful scenery and give yourself time to regroup, time to get the situation into perspective you are already on your way back to sanity and composure.

 It is odd when you are in the throes of possible disaster.  The mind can play tricks.  When the siren went off in my city, I took it seriously but not too seriously.  Why was that?  They don't do those except as a warning.   I did take cover, I did believe it was possible, but it was as if it was surreal.  It was as if it was not really happening.  I saw the wind. I heard the roar. I saw the deluge of rain; however, I stayed on the phone with the Direct TV guy because I was trying to upgrade my plan so I could actually see my local weather.   I can get it on my iPhone , but I wanted to see this radar on my TV.  The entire few seconds that the tornado was actually over my head, I was talking with him about the upgrade hunkered down in my hall bathroom.  I made him nervous.  I told him the siren was going off.  He said, "I hear it.  Mrs. Johns, you are making me nervous."  I said, "My name is Paula, pray for me."  I know he did, because I was in such denial of wh

 I have been reading Mark Richt's book, Make The Call,  which, I must say, has been an eyeopener for me about football and those who play the game. I was privileged to hear Mark at a dinner banquet for the Church of God minister's of South Georgia back in December 2021 at which time he warmed my heart with his demeanor, his humility, and his announcement of his onset of Parkinson's disease. He very generously gave everyone a free copy of his book that night which was amazing since it totaled hundreds of copies. I began to read the book because, he had influenced me and touched me greatly the night he spoke at the banquet.  I didn't know if it would interest me much because I assumed it was about football.  Even though I like a game of football periodically, I am not a die hard fan of any sport or sport team; but, again, he gave us a book, and I had been touched by his life he shared with us at the banquet, therefore I decided to read the book. Not only has the book been

  Hot, arid air to breathe in a desert, Mixed with morbid, hurting, loneliness; Missing life, love  and connection, There you will find me. Seems like despair, with many there; Lets me know, however I feel, I am not alone. No matter who, no matter who with, There is still an empty space within us, Nothing will be complete until we are home again. We cannot fold, we cannot crumble,  There has to be a beacon of light For those who follow us, even from a distance. Carry on, never cease' If we do not tell them,  They will not find the way.

 Verse  1 O Lord, God of my salvation, I have cried out day and night before you.     ( Psalm 27:9)  Do not hide your face from me; do not turn your servant away in anger; You have been my help; do not leave me nor forsake me, O God of my salvation.      The writer in the 27th psalm has clearly been helped by calling on our Father.        This 88th psalm begins by a reminder to the God of my salvation that he has called or cried to Him day and night.      How can we ever expect God to answer prayer if we we are so sporadic with our prayers?  A consistency would seem a rather important thing      One of the things that stand out most is someone's faithfulness and determination in a certain quest.  If a person has a history of faithfulness, it seems  that God most certainly takes that into consideration. Verse 2 Let my prayer come before You; incline Your ear to my cry.       Incline means listen.  How fervently we have made a plea to our Father to hear us, to listen to us, to answer