Hope

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By Roger Barbee

Hope “for one of the least”

The pandemic, forest fires, and racial unrest seem to be consuming us and affects us in many ways. At times it is as if we live under a constant sky of grey (in the West the sky is grey from the fires) but we do not suffer the clinical disease of Depression; it is just that the situation we now live under is depressing. We suffer “doom and gloom.” A bit of good news and sunshine improves our mood and outlook, and today’s paper brought a bright ray of light.

I have no idea what it must be like to be a well-known professional athlete. I cannot imagine their salaries, fame, and lives: The adoring fans, the gobs of money, the temptations, the hard work, the groveling coaches from middle school through college, and more. While I have no reference for these parts of their live, I know from experience one thing about their lives: The sound of the bottom when one of them hits it. And there are too many documented stories of the sad rise and fall of a boy or girl who is gifted with certain skills in athletics.

When the pandemic first washed over us, I read an article about this man, Mark Cuban, who owned a professional basketball team. While I had never heard of him, I found as many articles as I  could to read about his “reaching out” to all of the workers in his arena to pay them for lost revenue during the pandemic. Now, today, he reaches out again to a human being in need. Mr. Cuban hears that an ex-NBA star is homeless. He arranges to meet him at a gas station in Dallas. Cuban, a wealthy man, does not send someone to pick up the downtrodden basketball player, but drives himself. Yes, he has someone filming the event, but he, Mark Cuban, is there. Involved. And helping to rescue a life that has been shattered because of bipolar disease. Sure, the man could shoot three-pointers all day long, but he suffered from an insidious disease that could only stay masked so long.

Homeless. Standing on the street with a cardboard sign. No relationship with family. Embarrassed by his fall. But another heard of his trouble and worked to meet and bring him in for help. Mark Cuban did that. And his riches do not, in my mind, matter. What Mark Cuban did was an act done “for one of the least”. That is righteous and a ray of sunshine through these cloudy days.

Heading East…

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By David Freeze

With the western county seats complete, I contemplated an out and back loop in the northeastern part of the state, beginning on June 8. My first stop was Roxboro, earlier called Moccasin Gap and Roxburgh. The county seat of Person County was incorporated in 1855 and remains the only municipality in the county. The Person County Courthouse, built in 1930 in the center of downtown had a long line out the front door.

Famous people from Roxboro include old-time baseball player, Enos “Country” Slaughter and World War I Medal of Honor winner Robert L. Blackwell. Blackwell got the award posthumously for volunteering to go for help after two others were killed doing so. Slaughter joined the St. Louis Cardinals in 1938 at age 22 and is now enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Next was Oxford, seat of Granville County, once the home of Indian tribes with the Tuscarora most common. Samuel Benton, the area’s representative to the state assembly, bought 1,000 acres in 1761 and called his home Oxford. Benton gave an acre for the courthouse, but the town was not incorporated until 1816.

Most notable resident John Penn was a landowner elected in 1775 to be a member of the Continental Congress. He was one of North Carolina’s three signers of the Declaration of Independence. Tobacco became king and until the Civil War, Granville was one of the five counties in the state that had 10,000 slaves. The sandy soil and tobacco’s heyday brought huge growth to Oxford’s merchant district and plenty of grand homes. After two centuries of agricultural growth, no longer is it significant to the town.

A critically acclaimed movie, “Blood Done Sign My Name,” told the story of a racial confrontation that killed Henry Marrow and starred Ricky Schroder. Civil Rights attorney Ben Chavis, nationally known Oxford resident, led the protests.

The Granville County Courthouse was built in 1838. The first Masonic orphanage for children in the United States was built in Oxford. It was originally established as St. John’s College in 1858, ceasing operations shortly after opening. In 1872 the community decided that the property should be repurposed to educate disadvantaged populations. In December 1873, the first residents were admitted to the Oxford Orphans Asylum, which is today known as the “Masonic Home for Children at Oxford.” The Orpheum movie theatre has survived as an event center.

Hungry as always, I stopped to see Tristane at Strong Arm Bakery. She didn’t have to flex her muscles to get me to buy my second ever whoopie pie, complete with a refreshing strawberry filling and a large oatmeal cookie. They had a bicycle library outside that allows visitors to check out a bike to tour town. Oxford was friendly, very interesting, clean, busy and full of historic architecture.

I then drove to Henderson, the Vance County seat. The first settlers’ residence was built in what is now Henderson in 1785 by Samuel Reavis Sr. Reavis called his farm “Lonesome Valley” which likely described the area at that time. Reavis’ son, Lewis Reavis, opened a store close to the stagecoach road in 1811 when he began to see an influx of settlers and the awakening of a city. In 1835, residents decided to call the city Henderson after Judge Leonard Henderson.

The railroad brought new businesses downtown, but two major fires in 1870 and 1885 destroyed most of the stores. The need for work helped rebuild the downtown quickly, incorporating the use of bricks in the historic area so that many of those stores remain. Tobacco fueled the post-fire economy with five tobacco factories and three warehouses, along with three cotton gins, 20 stores and two newspapers.

I found that Roses stores are still alive in this area and maintain several storefronts on Main Street in the historic P.H. Rose Building. Ben E. King, singer and composer of “Stand by Me” was born in Henderson.

I fell in love with Warrenton immediately. The county seat of Warren County was founded in 1779. One of the smallest towns that I will visit, Warrenton was named for Dr. Joseph Warren, a patriot killed at the Battle of Bunker Hill in the Revolutionary War. About 90 percent of its buildings, more than 200 in number, are listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Warrenton was considered the richest town in the state from 1840 to 1860 for its cotton and tobacco production. I was just in awe of all the history, especially with so many of the houses and buildings signed with the year of construction and first owner.

Confederate General Braxton Bragg and current NASCAR team owner Rick Hendrick were born in Warrenton. The population of the town has varied little since 1850 and is still within 100 residents of the early figure at about 900. Warrenton was not served directly by railroad until November 1884. Another beautiful old courthouse was built on the site of two previous ones in 1906. Fans of old homes with well-kept yards could walk for hours in Warrenton.

Finally, Warrenton is the “town that owns itself.” The Hotel Warren was finished in 1922 but fell on hard times during the depression. A restaurant did OK, but the hotel portion was closed. In the 1950s, town residents got together and took a room each to renovate with the hotel able to reopen as apartments. It survives today, having just celebrated its 100th anniversary.

The excitement of the journey grew with each new town. I had 6.14 miles on my feet, then continued east for more. See you soon about those visits.

Loving Him

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By Ed Traut

John 14:23 (Passion Translation) Jesus replied, “Loving me empowers you to obey my word. And my Father will love you so deeply that we will come to you and make you our dwelling place.

  • It is a promise – that when we love Him, we keep His commands.  Keeping His commands becomes easy and natural when we devote our lives to Him.
  • God responds to us when we choose to obey, certainly obedience is attractive to God.
  • When He comes and dwells with us and constantly present, it is such a blessing and it is as result of being constantly obedient and committed child of God.

Prayer:  Lord this is exactly what I want!  Please help me to be that person, to be that obedient and quick to respond so that You can make Your dwelling place in me.  I want so much for You to live continually in me and have Your presence in my life.  Amen.  

Ed Traut
Prophetic Life

The Difference

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By Lynna Clark

Last week we rented the old John Wayne movie The Cowboys. Why you ask? What better way to celebrate 50 years together! In the year of our Lord, 1972 a very quiet guy in my high school took a chance and asked me to the movies. He had no idea that John Wayne was an icon in our home; the picture of all things tough and heroic. I guess the Lord saw to that small detail ahead of time. But even better, the next week he asked me to a Bible study. Not John Wayne… my new friend David. That night my life changed. It was the first time I understood why Jesus went to the cross. Suddenly it made sense. I could never measure up to God’s holiness, so He died in my place. OH! What a difference that single decision made.

Because a quiet young man stepped waaayyy out of his comfort zone and asked a feisty girl to a homemade Bible study, at least the next 50 years were changed.


I went home and spoke to my little sisters about Christ. One trusted Him right away; the other understood a few weeks later. Fast forward to the families of us three sisters. We each married men who love the Lord, raised three kids apiece to honor Him; they in turn are raising children to love Him as well. The ones who don’t have children yet are making a difference in the lives around them. Sure we have a few prodigals in the mix, of whom I am chief. The point is not to brag on our great family.

Lord knows that’s not the goal. We sure don’t want to invite the scrutiny that would bring. The moral of the story is to say, take a chance. Invite the stranger. Reach out to someone the Lord puts in your path. Who knows what ripple effect you could cause in the next fifty years.


Maybe even for eternity.

You Did It!

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One of my favorite – and least favorite – memories of middle school happened in PE class. Although I love sports, athleticism has never been my talent.

If students chose teams for kickball – or any game – I was always selected last. That hurt.

To participate, finish, and not be noticed was usually my goal.

On this day, while using the ‘not be noticed’ strategy, I donned my one-piece navy blue PE uniform as inconspicuously as possible, while in my corner of the locker room.

Then, as I walked into the gym, I realized it was ROPE CLIMBING day. Oh, what I would have given for a kickball game at that moment.

Weighing in at possibly 90 pounds, and quite the weakling, my expectations for myself in this endeavor were set pretty low.

I got in line, using a strategy that had worked before – slipping toward the back, while hoping the class period would end before my turn came.

I fearfully watched. I painfully waited. My turn came. This was not the first PE task that others had seen me participate in, so I felt that my rope ascension was a highly anticipated event, and everyone was planning to watch me carefully, laugh, and enjoy themselves.

I did not disappoint. I went way up that rope. Well, maybe not way up. But, it felt way up to me. I looked down and was petrified. I froze. I could not move.

My problem? My hands were locked around the rope because of my fear, and I was not willing to even move them slightly to a lower part of the rope in order to begin my descent.

I guess I would forever be known as the dope on the rope with no hope.

Students began yelling advice to me. Trust me – people yelling advice does not help.

Coach kept patiently repeating instructions. Trust me – repeating instructions over and over does not help, either.

As class time ended, I finally had no choice. I held on and slid… all… the… way…down.

*Rope burn? Yes.

*Pain? Yes.

*On solid ground again? Yes.

My hands were burning, as were the tears in my eyes, but I tried to pull myself together. Coach looked at me and said, “You did it.”

Those three little words changed it all. 1 Thessalonians 5:11 says to comfort and build one another up. Coach must have known that verse.

I proudly walked away, and headed to English class, where I felt like I was a pretty good writer – and could hang with the best of them.

*We will not be the best at everything, but we should still give everything our best.

God takes care of the rest.

Better with a Pinch of Salt

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By Ashlie Miller

Let us begin with a controversial statement – watermelon tastes best sprinkled with salt. I can already see the email notifications lighting up! I am a Southern gal raised in Southern ways. My earliest watermelon feasts occurred at my grandparents’ home on Sam Wilson Road in Charlotte. We would sit at a newspaper-covered picnic table adorned with dull knives and a salt shaker. Today, I still prefer a watermelon with salt. It enhances the flavor, whether it is already sweet or needs some help.

Any food connoisseur, from the home cook to the high-end chef to the passive foodie, could list many foods whose flavor is enhanced by a pinch of salt – bitter coffee or chocolate, sour grapefruit, even a salad. Although a common seasoning, it does extraordinary things. It both suppresses less-than-desirable or offensive flavors and enhances the lovely ones.

It is no wonder that Jesus refers to salt when He commands His followers to be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13) or when Paul says to season our conversations with salt (Colossians 4:6).

Salt is helpful in many ways – gardening, cleaning, preserving, and offering sacrifices; it was even a commodity in ancient economies. As Christians, we can see many metaphors of how that relates to our walk in Christ among the people we encounter daily. However, as we finally officially enter summer and you likely will pick up a watermelon to enjoy, let us consider how we can add flavor to our conversations and relationships with others.

If salt suppresses things that are not desirable – like conflict – how can I diffuse such things in conversations? I could avoid partaking in a juicy piece of gossip under the guise of a prayer request. It may mean that I speak up for someone not around to defend themselves. It may also mean avoiding flattery – speaking kind things to someone’s face that I would not say about them to others – with the intention of personal gain.

If, like salt, we are to enhance the desirable flavors of things – how can I intentionally work towards edifying someone? I might send someone a note of encouragement on a job well done or a thank you for a kind gesture extended my way. I may see someone who is down or struggling through life and pray with them or speak life into their spirit. Sharing scripture is a great way to succeed in that.

Although, like salt, we may be merely common, we know that God chooses to use the simple to confound the wise (1 Corinthians 1:27). By observing something as humble as salt, we know that a little can go a long way in making a profound impact on the lives of others. We do not have to wonder about what profound things we can say. When we walk in the Word and pray to our Father in heaven, we can have confidence in the words He can use to suppress the bad and bring out the good.

What steps can I take today to be the right pinch of salt, balancing conversations to point upward toward Christ and eternal things and outward for the good and building up of others?

Tune in next week for more controversial statements like – pineapple on pizza is delicious! (I kid, I kid).

Ashlie Miller enjoys her salty watermelons on the back porch of her Concord home with her husband and 5 children. You can contact her on mrs.ashliemiller.com to let her know if you prefer your watermelon with or without salt.

Helping Others

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By Doug Creamer

Helping Others

            Last week some teachers and students from the RCCC GED program gathered to work on a Habitat for Humanity house. It was a warm, dry day. We arrived and were put to work on insulating the house. The project manager showed us how to put the insulation up and we went to work.

            Insulation is different than it was years ago. We were not working with fiberglass, which can be so itchy. This insulation is packed tightly in bundles. When you slice the plastic off, it expands rapidly.  Then the project manager showed us how to put it between the studs. Pressure holds the insulation in place.

            There was some cutting of the insulation to get it to fit in tighter places. While the insulation wasn’t itchy, it was very dusty. Some of us were coughing, especially when we had to cut it to fit in tight places. It was not hard work, and with the crew we had there we got it done quickly. We helped with moving equipment and supplies around the house, which helped the project manager. Before long the work was done and we all left feeling good for helping.

            I found out that people who get a Habitat house have to work between 300 – 450 hours on houses before they are eligible for a home. Hours they spend on their own home can count towards their total hours. I think it is a great lesson requiring people to give back in order to receive a house.

            Some people believe that Jimmy Carter started Habitat but that isn’t the case. It was started in 1976, the year he became President of the United States. Jimmy started working on Habitat houses in 1984 and had been working on them up until his health issues interfered. He advocated for affordable housing while he was President and put his muscle where his ideals were when he came out of office. I have great respect for the work he has done for Habitat.

            The world around us is full of needy people. None of us can meet all the needs that we see on a daily basis. How does one decide which people we try to help and which people we choose not to help? I don’t know about you, but I like to help people.

            As a teacher, that is what I have devoted my life to doing, helping people. I learned a long time ago from a wise assistant principal: I can’t help every student who comes through my door. I can only help the students who want to learn, who want to accept what I have to offer. This was a very difficult lesson because I can see a better future for someone if only they will listen and apply what I am trying to teach them. Some people don’t want it or won’t do it.

            I think part of it is that we have to be sensitive to the Spirit. The Spirit will guide us to those that need and will accept our help. I am not talking about those beggars that stand on the street corners day after day. Beggars existed in biblical days and they are with us today. Some we can help and others just want to beg and not change. When we help others we will get taken sometimes. That’s why we need discernment.

            When we consider who we can help, I think the first place to begin is with our family. Next we want to consider our church family. How can we help struggling church members? The next group would be our neighbors. Sometimes the people we live around need a helping hand and God might be sending you and me.

            Some people have a heart to reach out through missionary work. Many of my nieces and nephews have gone to other countries to help people in need. I have a friend who went to Florida with a church group after Hurricane Andrew’s destruction. Imagine all the Red Cross workers who help after disasters. I will admit that sometimes our neighbors who need help might be a little farther than next door.

            I want to encourage you to exercise discernment as you consider who you might be able to help. It’s not easy and I hate when someone takes advantage of me. But we can’t allow a few bad characters to keep us from offering a helping hand to those in need. God is watching and He remembers your kind words and actions. Sometimes all someone needs is a kind word or a simple smile, and that is something that costs nothing that we can all do.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

One More Fine Morning

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By Roger Barbee

A slight breeze blew in from the southwest, the first sunlight streaked through the pines at Kenny’s house giving sparkle to the dew, two cups of coffee sat on the yellow table in the screened porch, four of our five cats lay about on shelves or in boxes watching robins and doves on the driveway, and three dogs slumbered. A fine morning was breaking at Red Hill, and all was peaceful, not even the interstate roar shattered the calm. As Mary Ann and I sat, looking towards Short Mountain as if expecting something to happen, it did. But not on the mist-filled mountain.

            Some years ago, Mary Ann purchased a small (4×6 inches) birdhouse that was built and painted to look like a washing machine. Because of its theme, clean clothes, the only logical place for it was on one of the clothes line posts. I fastened it to the post under the aged sugar maple tree and faced it to the screened porch so that we could observe its occupants. Each season since its hanging, it has housed some pair of nester’s, usually chipping sparrows, but one year a pair of Carolina Chickadees raised a brood. Each fall it has been taken down, cleaned out, and given any needed repairs. Mary Ann’s inexpensive purchase has provided us many mornings of watching and learning, and this morning we both witnessed something neither of us had ever seen.

            Our gaze was moved from the mountain to the birdhouse by a movement. As we sat sipping coffee, we saw one of the adult sparrows light on top of the post and lean into the box. A small, fledgling head appeared in the hole. The adult flew up into the sugar maple. The small head disappeared back into the box. Then reappeared. Then disappeared. This cycle happened many times, but each time it appeared, the small body ventured further out of the hole. Then suddenly it fluttered on its fledging wings into the tree’s foliage. Then another head appeared in the hole, repeating the same process, but when this one left, it sailed into the grass, then fluttered just above ground to the weeping cherry.  As if it had learned by the first two, the third did not need as many looks out of the hole.  It

peeked out a few times, disappeared, then fluttered all the way to the weeping cherry. With its departure, we thought all had made their maiden flight. After all, the box was small, so three fledglings and two adults seemed quite a house full. But wait, an adult perched on the post and went into the box. Soon, a fourth, small beak appeared and it surveyed the territory. After much prodding by the adult, we thought, it flew in a haphazard pattern to a post near the tree. We waited, wondering if another would emerge, but the adult exited and flew to the weeping cherry, “the runt” of the brood having been pushed out of the nest. Neither of us had ever witnessed fledglings on their first flight, and we marveled at the small wings propelling the just as small bodies about our yard as the two adults guided. We watched, drinking coffee, and discussed in a limited manner, the odds for all 4 fledglings’ survival. We also talked of the adult and it going into the box for the seemingly purpose of forcing the last out. What a parent, we decided, for on that morning, after all care and grooming was complete, the adults knew that it was time–time for those babes to fly into the world and learn its ways.

            Now, I know there is a difference between sparrows and students. However, there is the obvious similarity this time of the year. Across this nation, students in high school and college are ready to fly into the world and learn its ways. Just like the 4 small fledglings, these students will soar in different ways, and, just like the fledglings, some will encounter difficulties. But my hope is that our students, at whatever level of graduation, will have been as well prepared as the fledglings. I hope for them determination, courage, wisdom, patience, and a sense of justice. Oh, and a good set of wings will help, too.

David Travels on…

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By David Freeze

Hayesville is another town that has a deep Cherokee heritage. The Cherokee had a village along the Hiwassee River as early as 1000 AD that eventually became Hayesville after the Indians were forced to cede their land. Nineteenth-century politician George Hayes learned that residents wanted their own county seat because of the difficulty of traveling to Murphy. Hayes introduced legislation and got it passed to designate the new county as Clay and Hayesville became the county seat. The town of Hayesville was incorporated in 1913.

Yet another majestic courthouse is the center of Hayesville and concerts are held all summer on Friday nights. The building was abandoned by county officials in 2007, then renovated and opened again in 2018 as an event center. The old Clay County Jail was built in 1912 and has been the county museum since 1974. I visited the site of the Spikebuck Town Mound and Village Site, one of six Cherokee sites around town.

Tribute statues honor traditional music, the Appalachian music that preceded bluegrass, and quilting bees which were early social gatherings. Fort Hembree was another fort where the Cherokee were gathered before the army moved them west.

Next was Franklin, the town where my debit card was hacked on my run across N.C. Franklin is the seat of Macon County and is situated in the Nantahala National Forest. The town is centered around the 1,000-year-old Cherokee town of Nikwasi. Organized in 1820, Franklin was named for Jesse Franklin who later became a U.S. Senator and the 20th N.C. governor. The Cullasaja River empties into the Tennessee River at Franklin. The town was incorporated in 1855.

Franklin is famous for its gem mining and hosts two gem shows each year as the “Gem Capital of the World.” The Franklin Gem and Mineral Museum is in the old jail. Charles Frazier grew up here, the author of “Cold Mountain,” a book about a Civil War soldier who walked home at the end of the war. Franklin is known for its Scottish heritage while many streets are named in honor of the Cherokee. There is a Women’s History Trail that honors prominent women who contributed to the history of Franklin. The last body of Confederate troops east of the Mississippi surrendered here almost a month after Lee surrendered in Appomattox.

Brevard was next, known as the Land of Waterfalls and much more. As county seat of Transylvania County, which was formed from portions of Jackson and Henderson counties, Brevard is located at the entrance to the Pisgah National Forest. It is also the home to white squirrels, none of which I have ever seen during numerous visits. The White Squirrel Festival was just held on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday before Memorial Day.

The first county meeting was held on May 20, 1861, the same day North Carolina seceded from the Union. Due to the Civil War, Brevard was not incorporated until 1868. And it was not until 1881 per one source and 1884 per another that Transylvania County completed the brick courthouse they had discussed at the first county meeting in 1861. The courthouse still stands proudly today, at the corner of Main and Broad streets.

The Co-Ed Cinema was built in the 1930s and is still going strong. In 1902, Joseph and Elizabeth Silversteen moved to Brevard from Pennsylvania and built the 33-room Greek Revival Mansion four blocks east of the courthouse on Main Street. It’s now known as The Inn at Brevard, on the National Register of Historic Places after construction in 1885, houses many community organizations and special events, and its extensive grounds provide visitors and residents of Brevard with a casual recreation center.

Before leaving town after what developed into a long day, I stopped at Sully’s Steamed Bagels, a bagel store open late in the evening. Steamed instead of toasted, I bought a bagful from Salem, perfect for the long ride home.

On Memorial Day, May 29, I drove to Winston-Salem, county seat of Forsyth County. It’s the fifth largest city in North Carolina and is the product of merging Winston and Salem in 1913. The original town of Salem was first planned in 1753 by the Moravian Church. In 1849, the Salem Congregation sold land north of Salem to the newly formed Forsyth County for a county seat. The new town was called “the county town” or Salem until 1851, when it was renamed Winston for a local hero of the Revolutionary War, Joseph Winston. Winston and Salem were officially incorporated as Winston-Salem after a referendum in 1913.

The RJ Reynolds Tobacco Company bought 84 acres in Winston-Salem in 1917 and built housing for its employees and the Reynolds Building in 1929, the tallest building south of Baltimore at the time. Piedmont Airlines, Wachovia Bank, Krispy Kreme, Hanes and Texas Pete were some of the business names that started in Winston-Salem. Oddly, the city does not have passenger rail service but does have bus service to High Point where Amtrak is available. Sportscaster Howard Cosell was one of a long list of notables from Winston-Salem.

The old Forsyth County Courthouse was built in 1926 and incorporated elements of an earlier one built in 1896. A new courthouse is now in use.

Fifty county seats are now complete and 50 more remain. With lots to see, I completed 6.4 miles on my feet during the four visits. I will be heading east, looking for more fun!

Strengthened Faith

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By Ed Traut

Dear Doug,


Romans 4:20 Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God,

  • The enemies target is to cause us to waiver in our faith.
  • It is unbelief that renders faith weaker, not the amount of faith!
  • Being strengthened in faith and to continue glorifying God regardless of how things look.

Prayer:  Lord help me to be strengthened in my faith and to glorify You continually and to never look at the circumstances or let them determine where my faith stands, but rather by Your word.  I praise You for Your faithfulness.  I love You Lord.  Amen.

  
Ed Traut

Prophetic Life

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