Tag: Thoughts

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The Centrality of Scripture & The Prominence of Psalms

My friend Erin asked me to participate in a special blog party honoring our parents, highlighting our Christian heritage, and specifying ways that we want to pass that legacy on to the next generation. As she put it, today is our own little Honor Your Father And Your Mother Day. 🙂 Deuteronomy 5:16, “Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God commanded you, that your days may be long, and that it may go well with you in the land that the LORD your God is giving you.” At first, I had lots of little ideas rolling around in my head—there are lots of things that I appreciate about my Christian upbringing that are being passed down to the next generation already! I had a hard time coming up with just one thing to highlight. In fact, I wrote two [fairly different] posts in anticipation of this blog party, and will just post the second one at a later time. 😉

When trying to think of something specific my parents did in their parenting that I am eager to do in my own—one of the main things that kept coming back to me was their constant spouting-off of Scripture. No joke: my parents had a Scripture for every situation. That simply taught me that Scripture applies to my every situation! It was a valuable lesson, and before I can remember it ever being specifically taught to me—it was simply exemplified for me.

My parents constantly reiterated the centrality of Scripture in our lives by word and deed. Deuteronomy 6:7, “You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.”

I have always had trouble with my memory, and Sunday School memory verses were a terrible stress for me as a young girl. So my dad came up with a handy solution—put the verse to music, and I would have it memorized in about ten minutes. My father was always quick to help me with Scripture, not only memorizing them in word but showing me how to apply them in my life, relationships, attitudes, joys, and struggles.

When my brother and I were older, beginning to try out our wings, my mother continued to bathe us in the Word. In fact, she would put little sticky notes with a new Scripture for each day on the steering wheel of my brother’s car and on the mirror in my bathroom. She never failed to encourage us with those little sticky papers covered in handwritten Scripture—in fact, I still have a collection of them that I simply didn’t want to part with.

These are just a couple of little ways that I want to likewise shower Scripture upon my child(ren). I want to help Gabriel memorize Scripture, whether it is to music or not, much like my father did for me. And I want to give him Scriptures for specific days and specific trials, much like my mother did for me. I want to emphasize the completeness and coherency of Scripture for everything God ordains in my life and the lives of my children. 2 Timothy 3:16, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work.”

Besides emphasizing the centrality of Scripture in general, my parents also emphasized (through word sometimes, but largely through example) the prominence of the Psalms. In prayer, in singing, in encouragement, in exhortation—Psalms were just a part of our daily life. Colossians 3:16, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” I have learned to cling to this precious book of the Bible more than any other, as it encompasses everything I could imagine! What a beautiful prayer book. What a stout song book. What a timely encouragement book. What an honest story book.

I want to continue singing Psalms with and to Gabriel, reading them with him (two of his favorite books already are Psalm 127 and Psalm 103), encouraging & exhorting him with them throughout his life—both childhood and adulthood. I want to keep praying Psalms over all of my children, even while in the womb.

I am thankful that God blessed me by putting me in a family overflowing with covenantal faithfulness that goes back for many generations. I am thankful that God blessed me by giving me parents who were faithful not only to God & His Word, but also to one another and to their children. I am thankful that God has continued to bless me through my parents’ encouragement and exhortation even in my adulthood. And I am thankful that God’s grace is abundant, as I endeavor to set before my children a godly example of faithful Christianity, ardent wifehood, and fruitful motherhood. May I, like my parents before me, never neglect to emphasize the centrality of Scripture in our life, home, and family—and to nurture a love for and knowledge of the Psalms, making them prominent each day. May I inculcate hope in my family as we cling to Scripture to supply our instruction and encouragement. Romans 15:4, “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.”

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Servanthood in The Thick of It

Just when I think I’m too stressed to serve,
too needy to meet another’s needs,
too empty to give again,
I catch a glimpse of Jesus, the night before His crucifixion.
He knew His time had come and what was ahead.
The pressure must have been enormous and the stress overwhelming.
He had every reason and right to focus on His own suffering,
to expect others to tend to His pain.
And what did He do?
He washed His disciples’ feet.

~Nancy Guthrie, “The One Year Book Of Hope,” pg. 253

What a good & timely reminder this is! May I be given grace by God to serve endlessly in the name of Christ, no matter what muck I am personally wading through. May I, by bearing His name, also bear His servanthood.

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Crying Out

Listen to what I’m saying, O LORD
understand what I’m sighing about.
Listen to me when I call for help, my King and my God,
because I’m pleading with You.
O LORD, in the morning listen to me;
in the morning I lay my needs before You and look up.
Psalm 5:1-3

Grief is weighing on my shoulders.

It is more smiting than the summer sun, heavier than the torrents of rain, deeper than the roots of all plants.

I lay my grief at the feet of my King and seek His comfort. He is not leaving me nor forsaking me, even when I struggle to make it through my days one lonely, empty, painful hour at a time. He is here, with me and holding me.

I beg for His comfort — pleading, beseeching my Father to bend low and hear the cries of His daughter. I am Christ’s and I claim His comfort as my own.

For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings,
so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.
2 Corinthians 1:5

I am praying to cling to this next passage of Scripture, in Isaiah 54, claiming it as my own.

“For the mountains may depart
and the hills be removed,
but My steadfast love shall not depart from you,
and My covenant of peace shall not be removed,”
says the LORD, who has compassion on you.
“O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted,
behold, I will set your stones in antimony,
and lay your foundations with sapphires.
I will make your pinnacles of agate,
your gates of carbuncles,
and all your wall of precious stones.
All your children shall be taught by the LORD,
and great shall be the peace of your children.
In righteousness you shall be established;
you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear;
and from terror, for it shall not come near you.
Isaiah 54:10-14

My Lord’s comfort is sweeter than honey, more peaceful than a tranquil stream, more beautiful than all the flowers of earth.

The grief still encompasses me. But His comforts are here amidst the grief.

For that I am thankful.

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Lavish Grace

My husband writes excellent posts. I find him incredibly profound, and yet somehow easy to read and simple to understand. I am very fond of my head. 😀

He recently has written up a few posts expounding on principles that Mr. Wilson spoke on at a conference we attended in April. One of them discussed the emphasis on grace that we need to have with our children, just as God has with us (His children). Steven and I have constantly gone back to this theme of grace, grace, grace ever since the conference, and I feel like it is changing not only my parenting, but also many of my relationships in general (I posted this last fall, which is another great reminder of grace spilled into relationships). It is beautiful. It is freeing. It is powerful.

In this post Steven wrote emphasizing grace in parenting, he talks about how God lavishly dumps heaps of grace upon our heads, and how we need to imitate that by lavishly dumping it upon our children as well: “We should overflowingly spill grace to our kids.”

Steven and I have discussed, on occasion, different ways that we spill grace to our Gabriel (and to our other babies too). Diligent, consistent training & discipline is one way we spill grace (one of our imitations of God). Teaching & indulging curiosity about God’s created world. Reading extra books at bedtime. Having a cookie picnic on the kitchen floor just for fun. Laughing over spilled milk instead of crying. Allowing jolly messes to be made (I’m thinking blanket forts, fingerpainting, and trucks in the mud) and joyfully cleaning them up. Adding bubbles to the bath. Not exasperating. Playing silly games over and over and over. Showing them how to use the vacuum. Teaching how bread is made, how to chop onions, how to pour lemonade. Taking them places, even if it’s just to the bank. Jumping in mud puddles, and following it up with a lesson on laundry while drinking hot cocoa. Singing, praying, going to church together. Partaking of the Lord’s Supper together.
This list could be endless, and I could go on & on — which just reiterates the point that we have endless opportunities to overflowingly spill grace to our kids. Especially because, as Steven says, faithful discipling & disciplining of our children is the first & foremost way of spilling grace upon them — and we all know that there are countless times in every day where we are able to spill that particular grace! 🙂

But what I really wanted to share here was a simple yet profound statement my husband said to me when we discussed this a few days ago:

  • Showing grace to our children isn’t just entering into their world — it is that, but it is only partly that. It is also allowing them to enter ours.

Isn’t that profound? And isn’t that excellent? How God-like!! Just as He enters our world, He allows us to enter His as well. In part now, and in fullness yet to come.
All honor, laud, and glory be to Him.

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More About Syllables

When I posted this about Gabriel’s name, I never expected to ellicit the response I did. 🙂

I figure some of you might enjoy a response, so I thought I might as well give it another post. Why not? 🙂 Originally, I didn’t even put it up in search of a discussion about the validity (or not) of nicknames or terms of endearment. I was actually just being kind of silly. I do suppose you could call it a pet peeve of mine — we just aren’t a family of Steve, Mel, & Gabe. It just isn’t us. But in all actuality, I was making light of it in that post. I guess the smiley and wordage didn’t come across as I expected it to. That’s one of the problems with the written word — it’s hard to tell intention without facial expression and voice inflection sometimes. 🙂

I am in awe of Gabriel’s existence these days. As we find out more details about the fight his brothers & sisters have had in my womb, I am just amazed that Gabriel is alive. His name means “God is my strength,” and I just think that is true about his very existence. He probably, by physical explanation, ought to have died in my womb like his brothers & sisters. And I’m not saying that God hasn’t been the strength of his siblings too — I believe that He has given them strength all the way on their six journeys past heaven’s gate. But I think God gave Gabriel, even when he was but a tiny blastocyst and embryo, particular strength and stamina to survive the hostile environment in my womb. So I have recently fallen even more in love with his name, its meaning, its sound, its syllables.

I guess I just didn’t make my awe clear previously. 🙂

At any rate… now that y’all have turned it into a discussion, I figured I might as well respond to a couple of the points that were made. 🙂

Yes, we do get to call him whatever we want at  home! 😀 But to extend that… we also get to name our children whatever we want. His name is Gabriel — if we wanted him named Gabe, we would have named him Gabe David instead of Gabriel David. You wouldn’t call him Joseph or Caleb as a term of endearment — I don’t really see why calling him a name (i.e. Gabe) that is not his own, is endearing. But that’s just me. 🙂 Like someone said in a comment, people should honor the parents’ prerogative in that way.

Yes, it is more the acquaintances (and not family members, or even close friends) who do this with my son’s name. It isn’t so much a term of endearment as a term of casualness. Someone will ask, “what is your son’s name?” and after I tell them, they’ll look at him and say, “hi, Gabe, it’s nice to meet you” (for instance). So it’s strange — the automatic shortening, as one of you put it. Wouldn’t you think that the way someone is introduced to you is the way you ought to address them? If I introduce myself to someone as “Mrs. C–” (forgive me for omitting the name; I don’t like to include last names online), I would not appreciate it if the response was, “okay, Melissa.”

If someone asked me, “Gabriel — nice name, would it be okay if we called him Gabe? It would be easier for my toddler to pronounce”… at least that would be giving me an opportunity to say yay or nay on the subject. And I would, as you might guess, say “you know, we’d really prefer if you called our son Gabriel. It’s okay if your toddler can’t pronounce it yet. We know it’ll be pronounced correctly someday.” (One of my favorite things was when Gabriel’s first real friend called him Gable, as he tried so hard to pronounce his name! And now one of his friends calls him BeBe-Oh. So cute.) It’s kind of like my son calling my mother “Mimi.” Her name is Grandmama, but he pronounces it Mimi at this point. He’ll get there. Eventually it will come out correctly.

One of you described it as murdering the beauty of the name your mother picked out for you. I guess that’s sort of how I look at it too. Names are hugely important. That’s one thing I adore about Scripture — names. God named things with beautiful, intricate meaning. His people named things too, according to that pattern. And they still do, largely, today. I can not picture God calling David the psalmist “Dave” (even though he was the man after God’s own heart), or Moses “Mo” (even though God spoke to him and revealed Himself to him). If you want to get all official about this, I believe the meanings of names to be incredibly important. (If you don’t believe me, just check out all my babies’ names in the “About Me” section and you’ll see what I mean!) We pick out beautiful names for our children. On purpose. These children are born to us. Given to us. And we are given the responsibility to bestow names upon them. Appropriate names. Beautiful names. Overflowing with meaning.

As for believing the best about people, I totally get that & 100% agree. I do not at all think that someone is being purposely disrespectful by using a nickname (I guess I just call it ignorance or presumption). I am not at all bitter about people calling my son Gabe. I have never snapped in anyone’s face about it. I’ve never ignored someone when they’ve referenced him with a shortened version of his name. Besides, I have become quite good at either ignoring peoples’ blind comments or simply covering them with love — I gets heaps & hoards of them all the time, especially about my children. So yes, I definitely agree that this is not something to become bitter or resentful about.

Again though, just as it is my job to be gracious to people who call my son something other than his name, I also want to reiterate that it is my job to be gracious to people by calling them by their name, by calling them what they want to be called, by calling their children by their beautiful given names. Unless I am invited/asked to call someone by a nickname, it is a show of honor, respect, love, and affection to call them by their name.

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Vial Levity

Yesterday we had some blood drawn. My husband had four vials done, which may be the most he’s ever had at one time. I had 25, which is not the most I have ever had at one time.

In fact, when I saw the tubes divided into little containers (blood was being sent to four labs, and each lab’s vials were in its own container), I said to the lab lady who knows me by name (it’s just too much trouble to call her a phlebotomist), “is that all? I thought there would be more than that!” She thought I was crazy but I was totally serious.

About ten months ago I had 32 vials drawn at once, and it was scary to me at the time.

But now needles have become a habitual part of life for me. And getting my blood drawn is like child’s play.

So it’s just funny to me, seeing how my perspective has changed over the last year:
25 vials of blood? Eh, piece of cake! 😀

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Dress With Care

It is said of the Proverbs 31 woman that she is dressed (or clothed) with dignity and with strength (verses 17 & 25). These are important, hugely important, for any woman of God. A lot could be said about that at another time.

But I’m thinking about something different at the moment. I just finished ironing a pile of clothing. The majority of it belonged to my darling husband. I realized that I love to iron his pants and shirts, and was trying to figure out why.
I love to take care of his clothing — removing stains, washing it, drying it, folding it, ironing it, putting it away, etc. He doesn’t let me pick out his clothes for him or even go through his drawers to decide what things need to be retired — those are his self-appointed jobs. 🙂 But I do the caring of his clothing (reminds me of Prov 31:21). Not only so he looks good, but also so people who see him know that he is loved — that he has a wife at home who loves to care for her husband in physical, tangible, visible ways.

You see, the way my husband looks, reflects upon me.
Just like the way that I look reflects upon him.

This reminds me that my body is not my own. I know that 1 Corinthians 7 is speaking of marital love and the marriage bed when it says “For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does”… but I really think that principle is well applied in other areas. It is the very idea of self-sacrifice, putting another before one’s self, and Christlike love coming into play.

I do not dress for myself.
I dress for my husband.

And I’m not just talking about cute little nighties.
I’m talking about jeans, t-shirts, dresses, footwear, sweaters — anything that goes on my body.
I dress for him.
It reflects upon him.
I do dress to please him — what wife doesn’t want to catch her husband’s eye when he walks in after a long day’s work?
But I also dress to reflect well upon him.

(And yes, my words, my stance, my clothing, my actions — they all reflect upon my husband.)

To reflect well upon him, I want to show the world that I have a hardworking husband who provides for our needs very well; that he loves to adorn my beauty and fill my closet; that he loves beauty as well as godly modesty; that he loves my skin enough to conceal it; that he keeps my body for himself.

And, likewise, the way he dresses reflects upon me.
The way our son dresses reflects upon us.

So yes, while also taking passages like Matthew 6 and 1 Peter 3 into consideration, clothing is important. Like actions. Like words.
We should desire to praise God through everything we do, including the way we adorn the physical bodies He has blessed us with. I want to honor God through my clothing. And I want to honor my husband through my clothing. (Prov 31:22)

So next time you’re ironing your husband’s clothes — think about reflection. Your reflection. His reflection. Your reflection of Christ. How we reflect upon one another.

Clothes are important. Dress with care.

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Not In Vain!

Not in vain, the tedious toil, On an unresponsive soil,
Travail, tears in secret shed, Over hopes that lay as dead.
All in vain, thy faint heart cries. Not in vain, thy Lord replies:
Nothing is to good to be; Then believe, believe to see.

Did thy labor turn to dust? Suff’ring – did it eat like rust
Till the blade that once was keen, As a blunted tool is seen?
Dust and rust thy life’s reward? Slay the thought; believe thy Lord!
When thy soul is in distress, Think upon His faithfulness.

Though there be not fig nor vine, In thy stall there be no kine,
Flock be cut off from the fold, Not a single lamb be told,
And thy olive berry fall Yielding no sweet oil at all,
Pulse-seed wither in the pod – Still do thou rejoice in God.

But consider, was it vain, All the travail on the plain?
For the bud is on the bough; It is green where thou didst plow.
Listen, tramp of little feet, Call of little lambs that bleat;
Hearken to it. Verily, Nothing is too good to be.

~Amy Carmichael~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many mothers apply this beautiful poem to the toil of motherhood.

I personally apply it to my toil in search of motherhood. A large part of me desperately wants to give up. It is too hard to keep trying to have children, keep losing them to early death, and now to have doctor after doctor give me news that this may well just be the story of my life (especially without some drastic interventions). “It is in vain,” I often hear my brain telling myself, “Give up now while you still have a chance and before the ridicule gets any heavier.”

But, like it or not, God has called us to a particular path — and apparently it just includes more drastic interventions than I ever dreamed would be necessary. God continues to give wisdom when we seek it: to us as we use our weak selves to ram down the doors of Heaven and beseech our Father with frequent & fervent prayers, to my parents who are helping us seek godly wisdom & wise counselors, specifically to my father who is most actively pounding down physical doors to attain the golden gift of wisdom. And since God is leading us, it is not in vain. Most certainly not. Whatever His purposes are, they are most definitely not vain.

And so this poem, in all its striking beauty and truth, brings me to hiccups of tears every time I read it.

My life is not in vain.
My womb is not in vain.
My childrens’ lives (no matter how short on earth) are not in vain.
Our prayers are not in vain.
Our desires are not in vain.
The research, the consultations, the tests are not in vain.
The medical treatments are not in vain.
Not a single shot, pill, blood draw, or infusion is in vain.
These myriads of “little deaths” that I am called to die for my family are not in vain.

And this, my friends, is good news for this tired, broken mama. Good news, indeed.

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(Im)material Blessings

Yesterday after having the joy of babysitting my niece and nephew, I wanted to stop off at a cute little local fabric shop. Perhaps I should call it something more like a “textile boutique” ~ because it was that lovely. Selling all kinds of Amy Butler and Heather Bailey bolts of beautiful goodness. I wanted to touch it all. However, I rather hurried, as I had a very tired two year old on my hip who was ready to head home to his comfy crib; he definitely would rather touch Big Bear, clasp blankie, and rest his head on his own crisp & cool bedsheet than be in this cutesy, inspiring place. That is, until he saw the Tiffany inspired lights and the lineup of sewing machines on a table. Then he started saying “la, la, la, la” (light) and making motor sounds intermittently. The owner of the store who was restocking shelves couldn’t get over his “cute sounds.”

At any rate… I was buying material with which I will be making a gift for one of my dearest friends. I chose three different bolts, and got 1 1/2 yards of each; then I will let her choose which one she wants me to whip up into a gift for her, and I will still have two lengths of material leftover for future projects.

While the saleslady was handwriting me a receipt and cutting the fabric into the appropriate lengths, we chatted. Whilst my son continued his chorus of “la, la, la, bbbbbrrrrr, la, la, la, bbbbbrrrr.” She was saying how much she enjoyed filling in there at the textile boutique (if I may call it that) for her friend who has mono, since she has a 5 month old little boy she’s been staying home with. She said, “I don’t know how those stay-home moms do it. I am too smart for that – for things like keeping house. I have my master’s degree, I used to be a business owner, and I miss challenging work and stimulating occupation.” Then she caught herself and looked up at me as though the lightbulb just turned on, and said, “You’re probably one of those stay-home moms, huh?”

Good work, Holmes. Was it the fact that it’s 2:30 in the afternoon, I am definitely not wearing a business suit, & I’ve got a sleepy toddler on my hip that tipped you off? Yes, Watson, exactly so.

Anyway… after that grating little phrase about her being too smart for things like keeping house… I so desperately wanted to say, “then you’re obviously not doing it right!” and smartly refer her to Proverbs 31.

But I didn’t. I held my tongue as she continued to tell me about her 10 and 12 year old daughters being fairly self-sufficient, and how her first son was also her “first surprise.” Then I stopped holding my tongue, and said, “I could use a surprise like that.” She sort of raised her eyebrows and stopped rolling the bolt of material. I continued, “My life could use a wonderful surprise like that for a change. What a blessing for you.”

There was a pause in the room. It felt like a long time, but I’m quite certain it couldn’t have been more than five seconds. And then she folded up the material for me, I exchanged some money for it, and I walked out. My son in one arm, my three bits of material in the other. Musing over my sweet boy whose head was resting on my shoulder, the home where I was heading to go take dominion over yet again, and the husband who was out working tirelessly to provide for our little family & our heaps of needs.

I was just thankful. Thankful for what I have been given. Thankful for my domain, my dominion, and my opportunity to change the world through what I clean, create, raise, train, grow, bring in, and send forth.

Thankful for these material and immaterial blessings.

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Thursday April 22, 2010

Psalm 6

To the choirmaster: with stringed instruments; according to The Sheminith. A Psalm of David.

O LORD, rebuke me not in Your anger,
   nor discipline me in Your wrath.
(My God and Father, be merciful to me. Disciple me according to Your grace, and deal gently with my heart. I feel so vulnerable and weak, but I desire to seek after You and Your kingdom.)
Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing;
    heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled.
My soul also is greatly troubled.
(Please, Lord, yes, be gracious. Languishing means feeling weak and feeble; Lord, my heart and my spirit feel that way. Even my hands and body begin to feel it. Like David, I too am troubled down to my marrow. I seek Your healing, both physically and spiritually.)
   But You, O LORD— how long?
(My Lord and King, it feels like You tarry. Please make haste!)

Turn, O LORD, deliver my life;
   save me for the sake of Your steadfast love.
(Save me from grief, save me from sorrow, save me from Satan’s wiles. Turn the direction of my heart, my longing, my life toward You and conform my will to Yours. For the sake of You and Your kingdom, please do these things, but also for my good, dear Lord, as Your daughter upon her knees.)
For in death there is no remembrance of You;
   in Sheol who will give You praise?
(Give me remembrance of Your mercy, and give me strength to praise You wherever I go.)

I am weary with my moaning;
   every night I flood my bed with tears;
   I drench my couch with my weeping.
(It seems as though I should be properly dehydrated like a raisin by now. I am so tired of crying myself to sleep, and awaking in the morning to terrible dreams that simply bring tears afresh. Grief and sorrow are wearing. Physically and emotionally tiring. Please give me strength, for the tears keep coming.)
My eye wastes away because of grief;
   it grows weak because of all my foes.
(My eye, my discernment, my seer of beauty – it fades. Grief makes it hard to discern, hard to see the beauty. I want to discern rightly according to Your will, and I want to see the beauties of Your hand all around me. But My foes feel too strong: Satan attacks when he knows my armor is weakened. He is wiley and cunning. He sends pangs into my heart when I do not desire the arrows or stings. These foes must be fought! Dear God, enable me.)

Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
(Yes, Lord, enable me to banish Satan and his army!)
   for the LORD has heard the sound of my weeping.
(Oh Father, listen to my cry; do not turn me aside!)
The LORD has heard my plea;
   the LORD accepts my prayer.
(Thank You, my King, for the assurance that my pleas and prayers do not fall upon deaf ears. Thank you for hearing me and accepting me.)
All my enemies shall be ashamed and greatly troubled;
   they shall turn back and be put to shame in a moment.
(Oh Lord, this is victory indeed! My enemies of Satan, sin, and death shall fall into their own snares! You have overcome them all! When You but speak the word, they shall crumble and disintegrate, and oh how glorious! Put them to shame. Trample them under Your feet. You have conquered sin and death. Satan is thrown from his throne. Comfort my heart with this knowledge. And bring it to mind when I feel my enemies overtaking me. They have no power over me. I am Yours.)