Jesus’ advice to sheep in the midst of wolves
Wow! This just came up on my Facebook page as a “memory”. I wrote it three years ago, but it hit the bullseye for what I’m going through right now. Here it is:
I can’t sleep yet. I had three Scriptures weighing on my heart as I laid in bed weeping and praying.
Jesus said, “Because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.” (Matt. 24:12) He saw it coming across the millennia. He told us this not to scare us but to prepare us.
“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” Prov. 4:23
“Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.” Matt. 10:16
You and I are NOT accountable for the conditions of anyone else’s heart. We are each accountable for our OWN heart, attitudes, actions, and behaviors.
Therefore, what I am telling myself I will share with you: Don’t let your love grow cold, guard your heart, be shrewd [alert] AND be innocent.
May God’s blessings, protection, discernment, and direction be on all of us as we navigate this crazy world.
–Dorothy
Read MoreWhy I pray for America
I wrote the following about four or five years ago. It is a passion I intend to pursue the rest of my days:
As I look at my nation, I must pray. It’s in my DNA; it is built into the very fabric of my relationship with God. When I see obstacles in my nation, I am challenged by my rich heritage to stand my ground and trust God.
I feel I owe it to the Founders who pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to guard, nurture, protect, and defend the fledgling nation.
I owe it to past generations of men and women of God—Charles Finney, D. L. Moody, William J. Seymour, Billy Sunday, Maria Woodworth Etter, and all the rest, both known and unknown—who took advantage of their American liberty to pour out their lives for the cause of Christ.
I owe it to my dad, who although he never claimed to know God intimately, was willing as a young man to risk his life in service to a country which guaranteed that his daughter, yet to be born, would bear the sacred right to lead her own life, speak openly, and worship God without any fear that acting on her convictions could lead to loss of her freedom…
I must pray. I must pray the Word of God over my nation. I must seek her deliverance when evil threatens her. I must stand my ground even if it takes the rest of my life. I can do no less, so help me God.
Read MoreA prayer of consecration
Father, You said in Your Word that if I would delight myself in You, You would give me the desires of my heart (Psalm 37:4).
Lord, You’ve been very good to me, but You’ve been no genie! My wish has NOT been Your command. I understand WHY now better than I did before; I also appreciate Your great wisdom in it, as well. Now I am asking You to sort through and filter my wants and desires so that the chaff—the wrongly-motivated, wrongly-based desires—blows away by the wind of Your Spirit.
Also, please filter through my expectations. Those presuppositions that I’ve placed on others which have not been conceived by Your Spirit, I release to You to abort and eradicate. I ask that a right spirit, a right heart, and a willing soul be renewed within me and that all my expectations will arise from Your Word and intimate fellowship with You—not from what I THINK people ought to do.
Thank You, God, for cleansing, removing, rebuilding, and reordering my desires and expectations so they more fully align with Your purpose. And I believe, according to Psalm 139:23-24, that the “hurtful way—the way of pain” will no longer have a voice within the recesses of my soul.
Thank You, God!
Read MoreAre you living like it’s Saturday?
Are you living like it’s Saturday?
For most of us, Saturday means this:
Projects. Pastimes. Parties. Plans. Playing.
Rest. Recreation. Recuperation. Recharging.
But once, a couple of thousand years ago, there was a Saturday unlike any other Saturday. That day, like every other Saturday before it and after it, was sandwiched between a Friday and a Sunday. But those two days (as you can imagine) were unlike any other Friday or Sunday before or after.
On that Friday a group of friends witnessed the vile, unjustified arrest of their Friend, a blatantly rigged trial, and a patently predetermined death verdict. They watched helplessly as their Friend was dragged away, flogged, and beaten beyond recognition.
The hope which permeated His every word burned in their own hearts, stoked by the power of His presence. He was the One. He was the Messiah; but here He was now, brutally cut down as they heaved Him high on the crossbeams, slamming His tormented body into place for all to see…to mock, to jeer…
Hope was fading. Joy had withered away. Their Friend, the One who had healed the sick and raised the dead, was gone. His lifeless body was laid in a tomb with a stone covering it so decay could finish its slow work unmolested.
It was Saturday. A numb, raw, gloomy Saturday.
Sunday had not yet arrived.
Now, you and I know what that particular Sunday had in store for His friends…for the world…and for you and me. We know of the pre-dawn rendezvous at the tomb; the rolled-away stone; the discarded burial ointments and herbs when once the strange salutation was spoken, “Why do you seek the Living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen.”
Now, we, like His friends of old, know Him. We have walked with Him and have talked with Him. We know He is risen, He is alive, and because of that, we know that we too are alive in Him.
But today I heard the Lord ask me, “Are you living like it’s Saturday?”
It jolted me. Was I? Was I, a friend of the crucified One, so saddened by losses and weighed down by the perplexities of life, living as if it were only Saturday? Was I living a pre-Sunday life?
I KNOW BETTER.
I had to come to terms with the Truth: It’s not Saturday anymore!
Jesus conquered death. He conquered sin. He conquered pain. He is the Way-Maker when there is no way; He is the Quiet in every storm; He is the Light that overcame darkness—and He is my God. He who crushed the serpent’s head and pulled me out of self-destruction can walk me through torrential winds or crashing waves to the other side—Safely. Unscathed. Strengthened in hope and in faith.
I’ve made up my mind. I refuse to live like it’s Saturday ever again. For me, it’s Sunday now.
Dorothy
“Therefore if you have been raised up with Christ, keep seeking the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God…When Christ, who is our life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with Him in glory.” (Colossians 3:1, 4).
© 2018, Dorothy Frick; reposted 2019
Read MoreApril Fools
I was water baptized 44 years ago tonight, April Fools Day. I was thinking back on that event in my life and wanted to repost what I wrote about it a few years ago.
Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you thinks that he is wise in this age, he must become foolish, so that he may become wise.1 Corinthians 3:18
I never would have planned it this way, but I was water baptized on April Fools’ Day. The last thing I would have ever dreamed of doing was to make such a serious act of commitment to Jesus on a day associated with pranks and practical jokes. But God sees things differently.
I had been saved barely three months; yet every time I turned on my newly-discovered Christian radio station, all I heard them talking about was water baptism. I soaked it up, but was utterly perplexed. How do I get someone to baptize me? I pondered. I didn’t go to a traditional church; my church was the Tuesday/Thursday night dorm Bible study. My pride was kicking in—I didn’t want to be laughed at for my ignorance about baptism—but nevertheless, I sought out a seasoned saint in the dorm. She was the ripe old age of 21 and about as learned as Moses. Sheepishly, I asked her to explain it to me.
Instead of teasing me for my limited knowledge, her face lit up. She got on the phone with Rick, the leader of our Bible study, and said, “We’re having baptism tonight. Get everything ready!”
The only problem: I was mortified that it was April Fools’ Day! Wouldn’t I dishonor God and open Him up to ridicule if—of all days—I was baptized on April Fools? I almost backed out.
When my wise counselor perceived my dilemma, she assured me that God would not be offended if I got baptized on April first. In fact, she shared, I was obeying Scripture—I was allowing myself to be foolish so that I could become truly wise (see 1 Corinthians 3:18). It was settled. I was getting baptized—that very night.
This was the first of many baptisms I attended while in college; every one of them was an event full of love, joy, camaraderie, and the first blush of commitment to Jesus Christ as new believers obeyed the command to be baptized in the name of Jesus.
Before I was saved I had watched this motley crew of Christians trek back to the dorm more than once after water baptisms late at night—that’s how I knew who the believers in the dorm were when I needed them later on—and here I was—on April Fools’ Day, 1975, doing the same thing. Who would have thought?
The group of fifteen or so of us hiked down to the rock quarry across campus. Some of the guys had gone ahead of us to build a huge bonfire on the bank. Several of the ladies were carrying towels and blankets. I invited three very special friends who didn’t attend our Bible study to witness my “burial and resurrection”—Linda, who was unsaved; Miriam, who was from a prominent family in her mainline Protestant church; and Carla, who was backslidden.
Rick shared on water baptism from the Bible: “Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). By the light of the fire, I saw joy and expectation on everyone’s faces—except for Linda’s, Miriam’s, and Carla’s. Their heads hung low; none of them gave eye contact either to Rick or to me.
It was time. Around 8:30, with stars twinkling in the sky, I followed Rick (another Moses-type to me—he was nearly 22 and had been saved most of his life) into the quarry. The water took my breath away, it was so cold, but the joy I was experiencing warmed me to the core.
“Dorothy, have you received Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” Rick asked.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Then in front of these witnesses, I baptize you in the name of Jesus!” And with that, he dunked me under the nearly-freezing water and pulled me back up.
On the bank, I heard whooping and hollering, followed by guitar and the sound of loud, jubilant singing:
“Break forth into joy, oh my soul! Break forth into, oh my soul!
For in the presence of the Lord, there is joy forevermore;
Break forth, break forth into joy, oh my soul!”
As Rick and I emerged from the water, both of us were greeted with blankets wrapped around our shoulders; and as I stood by the fire, I received joyful hugs all around. Everyone was beaming ear to ear, worshiping around the crackling bonfire—everyone, that is, except Linda, Miriam, and Carla. All three of them—the unsaved, the religious, and the backslider—were weeping uncontrollably.
God was touching each one of them, very deeply, that April Fools night.
Linda got saved less than a year later, getting baptized in the quarry herself in the dead of winter when we had to break the ice covering it—and now she is a prominent businesswoman in my area; Miriam wrote me a beautiful letter describing how the Scriptures came alive to her that night and how “newness of life” meant something new to her now, as well; and Carla went on to return to her first love, Jesus—and she has been winning souls to Him ever since.
As for me, I was through with trying to appear wise. I realized that the wisdom of the world was absolute foolishness to God; if I truly wanted to be wise, I must become foolish first—with the foolishness of God. And then—and only then—would I become wise.
And that’s no April Fools.
Dorothy
© 2016, Dorothy Frick
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