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holy experience

Saturday mornings are deliciously lazy around our house and a time for family and friends. After the necessary focus and drive of the weekdays, the anticipation of the weekend begins to build as Friday evening draws near. I love my work, but I am thankful for the different pace of the weekend.

This Saturday found me after breakfast, sitting in the morning sunshine, feet up in a recliner, still in my robe, and chatting to Rob and Mum, 3,000 miles away in England. The week before last, a dog joined their family: Bruce, the Staffordshire bull terrier; 3 1/2 years old. He belongs to my nephew John, who adopted him from friends who couldn't keep him, but on Saturday John was at work and Rob was looking after him.

I could hear soft but persistent, whining in the background. Rob said that he had bought Bruce a ball that was supposed to be indestructable but that almost immediately Bruce ripped a piece off and then another, and another. Rob had taken the ball away and put it in the cupboard, but Bruce knew where it was and wanted it. "Yeah Belinda," Rob said,"He's not a gentle golden retriever."

When we said goodbye, I got up to put the portable phone in its charger, but before I could, it rang. It was my friend, Frances. I headed back to the chair; it was so good to hear from her and I looked forward to an update on her life. We had a conversation that went off in as many tangents as an accidentally ignited box of fireworks. We laughed at how cool it was to do that, while always managing to hold onto the original thread. And we covered a satisfyingly large amount of territory, thoroughly.

We talked about God and Frances recounted a conversation with another friend, when she had said to her of Satan, "He doesn't just get a foothold and then lollygag around; he's like a weevil. His modus operandi is not to be a minor irritant but total destruction."

I suddenly got a picture of Bruce and his ball, not resting until there was no more ball to rip. Yes, that is what Satan is like unless we recognize the territory we have yielded to him.

Frances went on, "I realize how much closer to God I need to be, and how much closer I can be. I need to burrow in. Just like Satan digging in, how much fiercer do I need to be in digging in to Jesus' side?"

We encouraged one another in Christ. And we talked of Jesus, and how closely he walked with the Father; never doing anything unless he heard from him.

John 12:49-50 (New Living Translation)
49 I don’t speak on my own authority. The Father who sent me has commanded me what to say and how to say it. 50 And I know his commands lead to eternal life; so I say whatever the Father tells me to say.”

And Frances encouraged me to listen to Jesus Culture and their song that echoes those words of Jesus.

I thank God for Saturdays. :)


Marilyn Yocum said…
Most excellent lyrics!

Loved (in your post) the connection between the weevil and the bull terrier tearing into the toy that was meant to last!
Deidra said…
Saturdays, yes! And friends and family to share it!

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