Fiat

LET IT BE SO

Fiat is the decree of God as his heart cries out ‘let it be so’.

The Latin word, fiat is originally used in the Book of Genesis when God creatively decrees 'let it bo so' and announces humanity into being. The Word is riddled with ‘fiat’ moments as patriarchs and matriarchs boldly cry out, ‘yes God, let it be so with me according to your word.’

Luke one thirty eight

Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be done with me according to your word.

Hidden in Mary’s fiat yes to the angel Gabriel’s decree of the Christmas birth is the anguished cry of a mother. The travail of motherhood cries out as Mary gives birth to the bittersweet seed of joy and agony. On Christmas Day, a mother's cry echoes in the manger knowing that her nativity joy will one day lay down his life for us.

John sixteen twenty one

A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.

A military mother deeply understands the agony of Mary as her son decrees his call to the military. It is her fiat motherhood moment as her heart cries out to God knowing her son is willing to lay down his life for his fellow Canadians.

As we celebrate the Christmas birth of God’s son, please take a moment to remember the military mothers and fathers whose hearts cry out for their sons and daughters who have laid down their lives for us so that we can live in this great country.

John fifteen thirteen

Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friends.


In honour of Corporal Justin Matthew Stark

The Eleventh Hour

My Prayer for Armistice Day

Matthew twenty six

And about the eleventh hour, He went out and found others standing idle, and said to them, ‘Why have you been standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is right you will receive.’

 November 11^th marks Remembrance Day and I sense a deep spiritual significance of the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the eleventh year.

Remembrance Day is a time of gathering at the cenotaph in remembrance of those who served. The word cenotaph is the Greek word for ‘empty tomb’ and it is at the empty tomb where we remember and honour those who laid down their lives for peace.

Historically, the root of Remembrance Day traces back to Armistice Day. It marks the day of surrender when armies laid down their weapons, the enemy evacuated the land and prisoners of war were set free. It was a time when allies were unified, justice prevailed and honour was restored. 

Occupied land was returned to rightful kings, economic reparation was made for damages incurred and wealth and resources returned to rightful owners. Communications, roadways and bridges opened and one could communicate and travel without interference, roadblocks and ambushes.

Armistice Day was a day of surrender for the enemy and a day of victory for the king. On this historic day, a peace treaty was signed and sealed, and the kings’ authority was restored.

My Prayer for the Eleventh Hour

Matthew twenty four thirty one

And he will send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet,

and they will gather together His elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.

My prayer for Remembrance Day is that God decrees Armistice Day for the Kingdom of God. I pray that we remember in silence the sacrifice of the cloud of witnesses as we gather around the cenotaph altar. I pray that God releases His resurrection power across our nation so that veterans will dream dreams and young warriors will see visions.

I pray for a day of reparation when justice is served, spiritual POW’s are released and the silent wounds of war are healed.  I pray that the weapons we carry, fashion into plowshares and our sickles sharpen for the harvest.

I pray that the Highway of Holiness opens; mercy passports are stamped and access is granted without ambush or roadblock.  I pray that we march to hostile occupied territory and the enemy evacuates.

 I pray a day of blessing and that the economy of God transfers into the hands of righteous landowners. I pray that the communication airways open and our intercession releases heaven to rain new wine. I pray that allies unify and Acts 29 is recorded in the Book of Remembrance.

I pray that at the eleventh hour, we surrender our idleness and go to labour in the fields.

I pray that when the clock strikes eleven on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the eleventh year, the trumpet announces Armistice Day for the Kingdom of God

and honour is restored to our King.

Matthew twenty five six

And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh;

go ye out to meet him.

Background

The Eleventh Hour Clock- The clock at the Brussels 'Palais de Congrès' shows the world's history over the past 2000 years. The figure at the eleventh hour is the soldier of World War 1.

The Cenotaph, which is the Greek word for "empty tomb", has continued to be the national focal point for the Armistice Day commemorations.

The word armistice comes from the Latin word armistitium from arma or arms and stitium which means stoppage or a temporary cessation from fighting or the use of arms or a truce. This truce signified a cessation of hostilities as a prelude of peace. Peace is the state in the absence of war; a respite from disagreeable state of affairs.

The terms of Armistice:

-All occupied lands in Belgium, Luxembourg, France and Alsace-Lorraine, held since 1870 by Germany–were to be evacuated within fourteen days.

-The Allies were to occupy land in Germany to the west of the River Rhine and bridgeheads on the river’s east bank.
-German forces had to be withdrawn from Austria-Hungary, Romania, and Turkey.
-Germany was to surrender to neutral or Allied ports 10 battleships, 6 battle cruisers, 8 cruisers, and 160 submarines.
-Germany was stripped of heavy armaments, including 5,000 artillery pieces, 25,000 machine guns, and 2,000 airplanes.
-Germany would be blamed for the war and reparations would be paid for all damage caused.
-Roads and means of communication of every kind, railroads, waterways, main roads, bridges, telegraphs, telephones, shall be in no manner impaired.
-Immediate cessation of all hostilities at sea and definite information to be given as to the location and movements of all German ships.
Freedom of access to and from the Baltic to be given to the naval and mercantile marines of the allied and associated powers.
-The following financial conditions are required: Reparation for damage done. While such armistice lasts no public securities shall be removed by the enemy which can serve as a pledge to the Allies for the recovery or reparation for war losses. Immediate restitution of the cash deposit in the national bank of Belgium, and in general immediate return of all documents, specie, stocks, shares, paper money, together with plant for the issue thereof, touching public or private interests in the invaded countries.
Restitution of the Russian and Rumanian gold yielded to Germany or taken by that power. This gold to be delivered in trust to the Allies until the signature of peace.

9/11

Ephesians six twelve

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

The question people always ask is where were you on 9/11?  But no one ever asks what happened to you on 9/11?

Living in a small quiet town in Canada far from New York, my life radically changed on the morning of 9/11. Childhood nightmares resurfaced and I tossed and turned with dreams of war, plane crashes and bomb explosions.

Exhausted and fearful I finally turned to prayer. I prayed to a God I did not know and cried out to a God who made me angry.

Where were you on 9/11,God? Why did you let 3000 of my neighbours die to get my attention?

As my anger and fear poured out of my heart it made room to let God in. I met a God who made his presence known in a powerful way that day. He filled my heart with a peace that was beyond comprehension.   

Where was God on 9/11?

He was busy that day. He was busy at ground zero as he worked through the brokenness.  His heart cried out as he made his presence known in buildings, on the ground, in planes, in family homes. But in his busyness he took time to comfort a fearful Canadian woman from a small town whose broken cry had also reached him.  

On the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, I remember my brokenness and the cry to a God that I did not know.

If anyone ever asks me, “what happened to you on 9/11?”  

I will say, “I met God.”

 My prayers go out to all the families affected by 9/11.

A Land Apart

Joshua five fifteen

The commander of the Lord's army replied,

‘Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy.’

And Joshua did so.

Last week, I went on a day trip with my son to the historic settlement of Sainte-Marie-among-the-Hurons. My goal was simply to be a tourist for the day and have some much needed mother-son time as the summer comes to a close. We met up with my mom, sister and niece and together we entered the gates of Sainte Marie.  

The definition of a pilgrimage is a journey or search of great moral or spiritual significance. Typically, it is a journey to a shrine or other location of importance to a person’s beliefs and faith.

A pilgrimage is usually intentional. Most often, one decides ahead of time to take a pilgrimage and one can spiritually prepare for such a journey. As a mother, I was equipped with sandwiches, drinks, sunscreen and umbrellas for the day’s adventure. I was not prepared for the deep spiritual pilgrimage that began as I entered the gates of Sainte Marie.

Faith, history and geography collided as I stepped on the soil of Sainte Marie. Out of my heart’s burning bush I heard the voice, “remove your shoes Jane you are standing on holy ground.”

Quietly slipping out of my sandals, with eyes filled tears I stood in the dirt with my mom.

“Mom, this place is holy,” I whispered.

“Now you understand why I wanted to come here.”

At eighty years old my mom knew that our visit to Sainte Marie was a sacred pilgrimage. Five generations of my family stood in the gospel dirt where Christianity began in Canada almost 400 years ago. Only a car ride away in the backyard of Ontario, God revealed the altar of Canada to an ordinary family of unknown pilgrims.

Historically, the land was called Wendake and is the ancestral homeland of the Huron nation, a branch of the Iroquoian family. The Wendake land surrounded by lakes means ‘the land apart’.

Under the encouragement of explorer Samuel de Champlain, French Jesuit priests arrived in Wendake early in the 17th century. Led by patriarch Jean de Brébeuf, the Jesuits were dedicated to bringing Christianity to Canada and were martyred because of their mission.

Behind the rustic church, simple wooden crosses stake and claim Canadian soil for Calvary. They stand as flag posts marking the veiled ancient wells that overflow with the sacrificial tears of our ancestors.

The mantle of our patriarchal forefathers concealed in this holy soil silently wait for generations willing to bear its sacrificial weight. The cloud of witnesses buried under this Canadian altar cry out for us to finish their mission and claim the promise that Canada, a land ‘set apart’ is to be a healer to the nations.

I began my journey to Sainte Marie as a tourist but in the dirt I finish a pilgrim. As we left the gates of Sainte Marie my spirit cried out to God to bless me with a small piece of this sacred mantle. Not worthy of their shoulders, I wish to honour the legacy of our forefathers and bring their mission back to the small Canadian town that I call home.

Hebrews eleven thirteen

These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

 Visit www.saintemarieamongthehurons.on.ca for more information.

A Good Thing

When I think of a “heart cry,” I think of a deep yearning, struggling to find response, affirmation and fulfillment. If left unexpressed, it aches and restlessly pervades the whole of one’s being, making it impossible to ignore until recognized. The bearer must finally say, “Yes - I know you’re there and I’ll do what I can to give you peace.”

My heart cry, in recent years, has been of a dual nature. On the one hand, it has been for the young people of our world, so many of whom have been left to their own devices, absorbing negative influences of 21st century media, video games, values and social inertia. I am not blind to the wonderful young people who, raised by responsible parents, are becoming trained and prepared to contribute to society in meaningful ways. But for every one of those, there are a thousand Johnnies glued to computer screens with disconnected dads gaming at other computer screens and moms so stressed from compounded responsibilities that they have no patience for dealing with the Johnnies and the Emmas. On the flip side, my heart cry has been for the precious seniors who are being ignored, neglected or simply deemed irrelevant by their busy, self-absorbed families.

Clearly, the youth of today are going to be faced with unprecedented challenges for which they lack preparation. There are those who say that the coming economic meltdown is going to make the Great Depression look like a cakewalk. I’m not sure what a ‘cakewalk’ is, but no matter how the pundits try to spin the current situation, anyone with a brain knows that the illusion of normalcy is dissolving into an uncertain reality.

Back in the day, while mom and dad did what had to be done to provide for the family, grandpa and grandma were generally available to ‘be there’ for the kids, tending to their needs, giving a reproof when earned and sharing insights about life, gleaned from experience and years of observation. They were often the ones who taught life skills and filled the gaps left by busy parents.

These days, society has become age-segregated through the advent of seniors’ housing developments, age-segregated schools and parental work obligations that take them away from the home. The barriers between generations have robbed every age group of the benefits of inter-generational interaction. Texting has replaced talking and Facebook has become the new living-room of interaction. The voices of seniors without these skills are being muted. Unless we take steps to strengthen the links between generations, the new ways people communicate will widen the gap irretrievably.

The wisdom of our elders are the wells from which we draw understanding, knowledge and warnings against repeating the evil elements of history. We must find a way to open these wells and give our young people opportunities to drink deeply from the life-giving flow. Wherever possible, we must reach out to seniors and help them become equipped with the new avenues of communication. We must help them to become comfortable in the new living rooms of communication. There’s no one better equipped to teach them than the very ones who need their wisdom - our teens. Linking teens and seniors for mutual mentoring can have tremendous benefits.

Technology is not going to go away. Its advent has been a wonderful boon to our world - but we must not allow its potential for isolating people to rob our young people of the natural, centuries-old, methods for gaining life-skills. We need to use it to strengthen our world - not to weaken it. We need to use whatever tools we have to channel the wisdom, insights and experiences of our elders to prepare our young people for the challenges ahead.

Those who scoff at the importance of what seniors have to offer are forgetting that things like industriousness, integrity, financial management, ingenuity, kindness, unselfishness etc. are timeless values that determine success and can’t be taught by a video game. They forget that our kids need to know how to survive in a world without electricity. One swipe at our grid by any act of nature or terrorism could demand that they know how to survive in a pre-wired world.

In responding to my heart cry, I designed legacy journals in which seniors could record their values, insights and observations for the benefit of oncoming generations. http://www.bydesignmedia.ca/store/index.html

My heart song is sung when I see young people helping seniors to complete the journals and doing what they can to coach them in the new social media, welcoming them into their wired world. My heart strings are played when I see precious seniors lift their downcast gazes and smile in response to someone who recognizes their value - to someone who wants to hear about their life experiences and their words of wisdom. That’s a good thing!              

Diane Roblin-Lee is the author/co-author of over 20 books, several of which have been award-winners or Canadian bestsellers. Some may recognize her as a former host (for seven years) of Crossroads' Nite Lite and occasional co-host or guest on 100 Huntley Street. Diane now does custom-publishing and graphic design through her company, byDesign Media, in Uxbridge, Ontario. She works with Winning Kids Inc., promoting their Plan to Protect and serves on the Board of the Heart to Heart Marriage and Family Institute. Her present focus is her Legacy work, through which she founded My Legacy Links with a view to bridging the generations. Diane has two sons and four grandchildren. She is available for speaking engagements. Contact Diane at diane@bydesignmedia.ca or visit  "My Legacy Links" at www.mylegacylinks.com.

The Lamentation of the Loon

Genesis one twenty

And God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky."

I Am Here, Where are You?

Every year my family vacations at Elim Lodge, a small Christian camp situated in God’s country on Pigeon Lake.  Loons inhabit this same geography and their haunting cry echoes across the lake expressing the deep longing of Genesis. Early one morning while listening to a family of loons crying out their morning prayer, I wrote the following words in my journal:

Overlooking the lake, I see an entire Loon family. I am reminded of our small town festival where I watched an elder silently and lovingly carve out this graceful bird from a piece of discarded wood. He did not say a word.  His peaceful intensity was mesmerizing.  His hands were weathered with age but there was strength in them as they gently carved the loon that one day would sit silently on a shelf.

“Is this how you carved the first loon, Jesus?”

I imagine my Carpenter Father gently carving the first loon into existence. Genesis in the making, He lovingly carves away all that is not loon. As he surveys his handiwork, he quietly whispers, “I will put my longing in you so they will hear my cry.” And breathing on the loon he humbly says, “It is finished, and it is good.” He names him Holy.  Lifting his hands up to heaven he releases the gentle bird that he has so lovingly carved for us. He offers up the loon as a gift to his Father for those he longs for.  He murmurs a quiet prayer for those who listen and hear his longing. And in his incredible mercy, He also whispers a prayer for those who do not hear, “Father, forgive them, for they know not our longing for them.”

My daughter Anna, loves to go tubing and one afternoon while on the water, a single male loon cried out and seemed distressed. Distracted with their water toys; boaters, jet skiers, wake boarders and fishermen seemed unaware of the father loon's cry.

“He can't find his family,” my daughter Anna commented. She recognized that something was amiss. Her words pierced me as I thought of our eternal Father’s heart crying out his longing for his family. A family so distracted with our toys that we miss our Father’s heart cry buried deep within this ancient Genesis creature.

After a few hours of spinning my daughter behind our own toy, we silently cruised back to camp. All was quiet on the water as toys were docked for dinner. As we drifted, my heart prayed across the water.

Suddenly, Anna jumping up from the front of the boat exclaimed, “Look mommy! He found his family!”  In the seclusion of the bull rushes, father loon huddled protectively with his united family.

Bowing their heads in prayer, father loon gave the evening benediction. In the dusk stilled water, one could softly hear the hymn of his holy breath of mercy, "I am here, I am here, I am here."

Isaiah fifty seven thirteen
“When you cry out for help, let your collection of idols save you! The wind will carry all of them off, a mere breath will blow them away. But whoever takes refuge in me will inherit the land and possess my holy mountain.”

Sarah: A Mother's Heartsong

Proverbs twenty three twenty five

May your father and mother rejoice; may she who gave you birth be joyful!

Helen is one of my best friends and shares the cry of her heart for a daughter. Lovingly and faithfully God stood with Helen through the darkness and blessed her with a preious miracle. She named her Sarah.

Sarah: A Mother's Heartsong

Why is it that sometimes we let ourselves live in a deep dark hole? And to make matters worse why are we the ones who dig it in the first place. I was living in one. Before I even knew it, I had dug my hole and was stuck in darkness silently crying out for help. That’s when He found me or perhaps when I finally found Him. God’s plan for us it not to live in darkness but to live in light, His light.

God didn’t just yank me out though. He helped me climb up and then out, one step at a time. You see for me, it was a journey of trust, “Trust your God with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding in all your way acknowledge Him and He will lead your paths straight.” proverbs 3:4-6

It was after the birth of my third son that I began digging my hole. Although I loved my family more than anything, my heart longed for a daughter. I’m not sure why, perhaps it was God’s way of telling me that I was not finished having children. My head thought it was, but my heart knew otherwise. God had a plan for me and my family to add one more member and in His glorious way led me to see His majesty and power.

Although I believed in God all my life, I did not come to know Jesus Christ until I had attended an ALPHA program that was being offered at our local church. I had given my life, my heart, my dreams, my plans and all that I was to Jesus right there and then. I wanted only His will in my life whether I liked it or not. And so in crying out to God, He started to speak to me. He spoke to me through His word, through His creation and through visions.

He gave me a vision of my children, my wonderful boys and my sweet daughter. But wait, I didn’t have a daughter. What did it mean? Maybe I made it up in my mind, I wasn’t sure. It was hard to imagine that the creator of the world was actually speaking and revealing Himself to me and I struggled with knowing what to do. However, God in his loving and caring ways continued to speak and I continued to listen. He spoke so clearly at times that it became unmistakeable what I was to do. But I was still afraid.

In my twenties and early thirties, I had struggled to have my children, they did not come easily. It would be years of trying and 2 miscarriages later that I conceived and gave birth to my precious sons. I knew it would be very difficult to conceive at 40.

After 5 years of intensely reading God’s word, praying (on my knees and with my sisters in Christ), fasting, giving God control, and just plain old believing, I jumped off the cliff in faith. I needed to trust God not only with my death, but also with my life.

Sarah was born December 10, 2008. God really was speaking to me and I wasn’t just imagining it. My husband and I had decided to try and conceive just once and leave the rest up to God. God in His miraculous way made the impossible happen. I believe He was waiting for me to trust Him completely and I thank Him with all my heart for His grace and His love, my God who allows me (a sinner) to be in His presence.

I urge you not to live in your dark hole. Look up, for our Lord Jesus is waiting patiently for you. He is wiping every tear that you cry and is calling out your name. I know from personal experience that God can handle anything that you are willing to give Him. Just trust Him, for He is speaking right now to you.

John sixteen twenty one

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.”

The Cry of the Gospel Donkey

Zechariah nine nine

The Coming King… “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you; He is just and having salvation, lowly and riding on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

“Song of the Donkey” is the first poem Barbara wrote for “Duet for Wings and Earth,” and it is very close to her heart. It came to Barbara as a dream in the night and speaks of her cry to write about, and pray for, those who are in great distress and sorrow.

The Song of the Donkey resonates in my own heart as I reflect on our Lord entering Bethlehem on this holy throne. The cry of the gospel echos from the heartsong of the lowly donkey and I pray that we reflect the humility of God as we bear the gospel across our great nation as our hearts sing,

'Hosanna'!

Song of the Donkey

Lord God, there is much I don’t understand, and to me almost everything is a mystery.

If I could count the stars and give them names, I could tell you why you named me Sorrow; and why my old master beat me every day, so I am marked with stripes along my head and underneath my belly.

Yet, Lord God, you chose me, least of donkeys. You came to the field where I was hobbled for the night; you patted me, fondling my ears; you spoke into my healing welts and bruises and told me that the song of the angels, shepherds and wise men would be incomplete without me!

Now you send me on a journey with my new master, and a woman who is going to have a baby. The woman strokes my muzzle; she makes for me a bridle of tenderness. Each evening the man brings me fresh hay and water; with gentle words, he makes for me a harness of mercy. My ears swivel to the sound of their voices.

Under the majesty of the stars, I trundle along with saddle sores: this is the only prayer I know.

If you had asked me to carry the sun and moon and stars on my back, I would have knelt and tried. But you have only asked me to join my harsh heehaw to the song of the angels. I will sing to you as long as I live. I will open my mouth and bray for the homeless, the lost ones.

Lord God, I have tried to bray your name and failed; but when all creation catches its breath in pain, I cry out Heehaw, and it is the cry of the beaten child, the wheeze of the refugee---

Lord God, I am practising, I am practising all along the road to Bethlehem:

Heeeee....
           haw    
                   H’Jee....

                                 haw...h’s

                                    Jh’eee...h’s   saw  hs

Is it enough?

Lord God, I can almost say

J’eeee
            s’aws.

About the Author

Barbara Colebrook Peace is the author of two poetry books: Duet for Wings and Earth (Sono Nis Press, 2008), which won an award from The Word Guild, and Kyrie (Sono Nis Press, 2001.) She also co-edited P.K. Page: Essays on Her Works (Guernica Editions, 2001.) Her work has been published in major literary journals, and several poetry anthologies. She has performed her poetry on CBC, and in settings ranging from cathedral and university to Word on the Street. Her poetry has been displayed on buses in the B.C. Poetry in Transit programme. She lives with her husband, Terry Peace, in Victoria, B.C. Contact Barbara at:  www.barbaracolebrookpeace.ca.

Mark eleven seven ten

Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their clothes on it, and He sat on it. And many spread their clothes on the road, and others cut down leafy branches from the trees and spread them on the road. Then those who went before and those who followed cried out, saying:

Hosanna!

Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!’
Blessed is the kingdom of our father David
That comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest!”

The Psalm of Poetry

“And in the hidden part, you will make me know wisdom.”

psalm fifty one six

Heartsong poetry touches the hidden place buried deep within us. Over the next few weeks, poets will offer a cry that only the heart can defend to the mind. As with David’s ancient cry, God’s wisdom is released to those daring enough to receive the psalmist’s offering. May the cry of the poet, heal the ache of our great nation.


Steadied by the hand of God, Alice Marlene Reback pens the cry of her heart with holy purity. God uncorks her bottled up pain and releases a healing fizz that balms the soul.

From Tragedy to Triumph

   by Alice Marlene Reback

How is it possible for me to explain?

My tragic life so bound by pain.

Each day I wake up raring to go.

Driven by pain, refusing to go slow.

A perfect mask was achievement and success.

But deep down inside, everything was a mess.

The greater the pain, the more I’d suppress.

Fearful that one day, the pain I’d have to address.

Exhausted and broken, that day finally came.

The years of pain I could no longer contain.

The tears poured like never ending rain.

Vulnerable and frail, my strength was gone.

What was left for me to depend upon?

Thoughts were racing through my mind.

How could I have been so blind?

Thinking I could hide it all.

Never expecting that I would fall.

To my pain I’ve come face to face.

No matter what I do, it’s happened and that I can’t erase.

One day at a time, I will try

and on God I will rely.

Yesterday’s pain I’ve left behind.

My life’s a journey and serves to remind.

Victory and blessing await the courageous and kind.

About Alice Marlene Reback

Marlene has a deep compassion for those in pain and writes poetry after much time in prayer. Marlene’s love and faith in God remains strong for she believes that God is good all the time. Her book of poetry entitled from Tragedy to Triumph is available through Guardian Books at http://www.essencebookstore.com/.

You number my wanderings; Put my tears into your bottle; Are they not in your book? When I cry out to you, then my enemies will turn back; this I know because God is for me…

psalm fifty six eight nine

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

by John Boyne

“The thing about exploring is that you have to know whether the thing you've found is worth finding. Some things are just sitting there, minding their own business, waiting to be discovered. Like America. And other things are probably better off left alone. Like a dead mouse at the back of the cupboard.”

Bruno, an eight year old boy moves from his childhood home in Berlin to a dark and mysterious house at a camp where his father is the Commandant. Bruno goes exploring in his backyard and discovers the camp separated by a barbed wire electrical fence. He approaches the fence and meets a boy his age named Shmuel, dressed in striped pajamas.  The two forge a deep friendship through the man made fence, unaware of humanity’s chaos that surrounds them.

The film, based upon the book by author John Boyne explores the deep desire for intimacy in the human heart and the friendships that can exist in the midst of generational worldview chaos. 

An electrical barbed wired fence separates the two boys, limiting the physicality of their friendship but not the intimacy of their conversation. In hushed voices they speak:

“We're not supposed to be friends, you and me. We're meant to be enemies. Did you know that?”  Bruno adds, “Why do you wear pajamas all day?”

“The soldiers...They took all our clothes away.”

“My dad's a soldier, but not the sort that takes people's clothes away.”

I watched the movie with my thirteen year old son, Michael. I am not sure which moved me more; the poignancy of the movie or the raw emotion expressed by my son.

“They just want to play with each other, don’t they mom?” Michael asked with tears in his eyes.

With mirrored tears I answer, “Yes, Michael, they just want to play with each other.”

Later that night I explored the response of my heart and discovered the dead mouse at the back of my heart’s cupboard. I build fences. I hand out worldview striped pajamas making the decision that some friendships are not worth exploring.  My own heart has been electrocuted by the generational worldview fence that separates us. I play peek-a-boo through the wire longing for intimacy with the very one who handed me pajamas.

But if we stay focused on the love of our Father, together we can remove worldview fences. A hole is dug not to let Shmuel out but to allow Bruno in. Hand in hand they walk through the dangerous camp understanding that intimacy through the Father is worth overcoming fences and worth putting on the enemy’s striped pajamas.

It takes generations to build worldview fences but it only takes one friendship to tear it down. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is a brilliant film that rips the heart wide open if we are willing to explore the dead mouse that sits in the back of the heart’s cupboard.

Forgive us Father, for the stripes and fences that separate us. Thank you for loving us so much that you took our stripes and died on the very wood whose fruit fenced us from you.

Do it Afraid

Recently at Write Canada, a writer’s conference sponsored by The Word Guild (www.thewordguild.com) I had the privilege of sharing a meal with Grace. When I expressed the cry and hope of my heart she smiled and said, ‘do it afraid, Jane.’

Her words haunted me; but they also released me.

‘Doing it afraid’ I created this forum for Canadians to share the cry and heartsong of their hearts for community, for relationships, for our land, for our nation.

Thank you Grace for inspiring me to ‘do it afraid’!

DO IT AFRAID

by Grace Fox

I’m writing this at 32,000 feet, somewhere between London and Budapest. My final destination is Resita, Romania—the industrial city that produced the steel to build the Eiffel Tower. My reason for this trip is twofold: to minister among teens and young adults living with HIV/AIDS, and later, to help lead an evangelistic family camp in Poland.

Upon hearing about this venture, some people said, “Wow, good for you! I’d love to do something like that, but it won’t happen.”

I questioned them. “Why not? What’s holding you back?”

Some replied, “I’m scared to fly.” Others said, “I’m afraid of contracting HIV.” Some said, “I’m afraid of traveling in a country where I can’t speak the language.”

My answer? “Acknowledge those fears and then do it afraid.”

FEAR: FRIEND OR FOE?

Fear wears many faces: the fear of inadequacy, the fear of rejection, of failure, of financial insecurity, of an unknown future, and more. If we don’t recognize and deal with it, it will hinder us from embracing life as God intends and prevent His purpose for us from being fulfilled.

I’ve struggled with debilitating fear in the past, but I no longer let it rule me. I now view it as a catalyst for spiritual growth. For example, I believe that when God gives us tasks that stretch us beyond our comfort zones, saying yes forces us to depend on Him. It guarantees an opportunity for us to experience His presence, power and equipping. Fear, then becomes our friend.

I’ve found this to be true in my writing and speaking ministry. This was not a role I sought. Rather, at age 41, I sensed God telling me to write. He gave clear instructions: interview two specific women and write their profiles. I felt totally inadequate and feared failure. But I said yes and did it afraid.

The result? Ten years later, I’ve written hundreds of articles for more than 40 magazines, authored four books, and produced a Bible study and teaching DVD about—you guessed it—moving from fear to freedom.

My writing ministry quickly expanded to include speaking at international women’s events, writers conferences, and on radio and TV. It’s been a white-knuckle ride, but I’ve experienced God’s presence and power in ways that I would have missed otherwise.

I’ve also found this to be true in my role as national co-director for International Messengers Canada (www.im-canada.ca). My husband and I assumed leadership in 2007 after the U.S. office asked us to do so. At first we wondered whether we were qualified for the new responsibilities. One of our roles would be to recruit, train, and lead short-term ministry teams to Eastern Europe. What if no one volunteered? What if our best attempts failed? Humanly speaking, we had good reason to feel scared. But we believed God was directing our steps, and so we said yes and did it afraid.

The result? We’ve witnessed God in action: He provided housing, a rent-free office, an administrative assistant, and short-term volunteers. This is our tenth ministry trip to Eastern Europe since 2007 and we’ve seen spiritual hunger satisfied as men and women have come to understand God’s unconditional love for them. What a thrill to be part of God’s kingdom-building team in the post-Communist bloc.

My tagline is “Leading Women in Fearless Faith.” Does that mean I never wrestle with fear? No. It simply means that I no longer allow fear to intimidate me. Rather, I counteract it by admitting it to God, asking others to pray for me, filling my mind with the truth of God’s word, and then moving forward—doing it afraid. That’s my prayer for you, too.

When God calls you to a task that leaves your knees knocking, say yes and do it afraid. Move forward and trust Him to equip you to get the job done. I guarantee you’ll discover a greater understanding of who God is and what His purposes are for your life.

Freedom from fear is the cry of Grace’s heart. If we, the church ‘do it afraid’ imagine what we could accomplish together in building God’s kingdom.

About Grace

Grace Fox is national co-director of International Messengers Canada, a ministry that offers creative short-term and career service opportunities in the post-Communist bloc – www.im-canada.ca She’s also an international speaker and author of several books. Her latest release is a Bible study and accompanying 7-part teaching DVD titled Moving from Fear to Freedom: A Woman-to-Woman Conversation. Available at Amazon.com and other online stores, and www.gracefox.com (groups discounts available there). Join her on FB – www.facebook.com/gracefox.author.

The Village Crier

Matthew five one two
And seeing the multitudes Jesus went up on a mountain, and when He was seated His Disciples came up to him. Then He opened His mouth and taught them, saying: Blessed…

I am fascinated with town criers and yesterday, I met Port Perry’s own, Bill McKee. His costume, his bell, his loud bass voice caught the crowd’s attention. Ringing his bell, in his booming voice he called us to assemble at the gazebo in Palmer Park to hear the town’s message.

This morning as I prayed the Sermon on the Mount, God opened my minds eyes to see that Christ is ‘the’ world’s town crier!

Jesus did not need a costume or bell to get the town’s attention. His mere presence drew the multitudes. By simply ‘opening his mouth’ the crowds listened to the cry of his heart.

In the quietest voice He spoke, “blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven…blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled…blessed are those who are persecuted, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Truth after truth, Jesus voiced the cry of his Father’s heart to the multitudes assembled. The village crier simply ‘opened his mouth’ and his heart cry spilled out for those who would listen.

I need to be my Father’s town crier.

“Whatever I command you, you shall speak.” Jeremiah one

I don’t require a costume, a bell and a booming voice to share the truth of His cry. The authority that is given to me is all that I need. I must ‘open my mouth’ and speak the cry of my Father’s heart.

Father, forgive my silence and for not voicing your heart cry to the multitudes.

Matthew seven twenty nine
“And so it was, when Jesus had ended these sayings that the people were astonished at His teaching, for He taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes."

Oh Canada!

John fifteen thirteen
“Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.”

It is fitting that I share my heart cry on Canada Day. Those who know me appreciate the deep wail cry that God has put on my heart for our Canadian soldiers and their families.

A few years ago, God changed my heart through the lens of a camera while photographing a military parade. Moved to tears, I witnessed a young cadet talking to an elderly veteran. These two unknown heroes captured on film that day have forever changed my heart. In that instant, as I clicked the shutter, I realized how much I took peace for granted and how I took our Canadian Soldier for granted.

I cry out to God for these Canadian men and women who so courageously keep my homeland safe for my family. 

My prayer is for healing for our heroes whose heart has been affected by the silent wounds of war. Please join me today in prayer for those who serve.

To all are Canadian soldiers; thank you for your service; thank you for your courage. I confess that I took you for granted. Thank you for your heart for Canada and for laying down your life for me, for my family and for all Canadians. 

Lest we forget.

Thank you Soldier

By Anna Twohey-age nine

Thank you soldiers for saving our land

We stand in peace hand in hand

We pray for you from the bottom of our hearts

Hope you stay safe, finish to start.