I'm guest posting today for Amy Wards' series on thankfulness for the Word. Would you join me over there? Here's a little teaser to lure you over...
I’ve spent most of my life in the Episcopal Church, which happens to mean that I didn’t grow up clutching a Bible to my chest when I walked into the sanctuary doors. I didn’t have one in front of me amongst the Books of Common Prayer and hymnals when I sat down in the wooden pew, softened by crushed red velvet cushions.
The Bible was read from the pulpit and for most of my life, except in times of distress, that where it stayed.
And then, in what seemed like a flash, the Bible became something living, something fresh, something relevant to me. I was on a YWAM mission trip far from home and as we sat through training, the leader asked us to grab our Bibles, close our eyes, and listen for God to reveal His promises through His written Word.
“He can do that?” I thought.
And so I closed my eyes and strained to hear the voice of God... To continue reading, please click here...