PUBLISHER’S LETTER: A Prayer of Blessing
By Linda Evans Shepherd Linda Evans Shepherd As I write to you, my Christmas tree is glowing softly in the corner— each light a tiny reminder of the miracle we…
By Linda Evans Shepherd Linda Evans Shepherd As I write to you, my Christmas tree is glowing softly in the corner— each light a tiny reminder of the miracle we…
Our world feels topsy-turvy and our culture often makes little sense, but history shows us that individual actions can create powerful ripple effects, even in the darkest moments.
As a ministry leader I feel the weight of being an ambassador for my Jesus— especially in regard to the words I share online. And I feel the weight of knowing I’m not worthy to represent Him—by myself. But God never sends us out into the world, alone, to accomplish what He has planned for us. NEVER.
When you’re wading through muddy waters, longing for clarity, it can feel like there’s nothing firm to stand on—only murky answers and shifting ground.
“What is your biggest struggle with prayer?” I did not expect the flood of replies from my readers. “I really want to learn … how to hear and know His voice.” “I struggle with unanswered prayer.” “Why bother [praying] if God is going to do whatever He wants anyway?” Prayer can be difficult to master; we know that from the abundance of books on the subject. Prayer is simple yet puzzling. Prayer can be taught, yet there is more to it than knowledge.
Sometimes when I pray, the Lord shows me these lovely pictures. I used to think these were mere daydreams interrupting my prayer focus. I’d try to refocus, but the images continued to break my concentration. One day, in a small prayer circle, the woman who prayed before me shared the pictures she saw as she prayed. I’d never heard anyone share in this way before, but her courage inspired me to share the pictures I saw.
I’m always absolutely sure I can shove one more thing in there. It doesn’t matter that it’s already overflowing or that I have to quick-catch some flyaway plastic wrap and wrangle an escaping tea bag resting on some soggy junk mail. I win if I can squeeze in one more thing.
As the world sings, “O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,” tragedy can suddenly zap away our joy. Loved ones can pass away, and lives can be turned upside down.
I was snuggled deep in the covers when my eyes popped open and I heard the still, small voice of the Lord whisper to my heart. "It’s time to pray for the hurting children."
Born in India, Sioni immigrated to Costa Rica when she was five years old. Raised in poverty by alcoholic parents, she suffered harsh and frequent physical abuse, but it didn’t compare to the horrors of the sexual abuse that started after toddlerhood.