Galatians 2:20a
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not i, but Christ liveth in me:
My Life Verse

Ephesians 6:6

Not with eyeservice, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;

Thursday, February 19, 2009

TSW

Hey Peeps,
Yesterday was Wednesday, obviously, and the teens went soulwinning!
Praise the Lord it didn't rain and the girls got to go door knocking.
We headed out to whites creek area, where we had gone the past couple times, got 10mins away from the church and realized we forgot tracts!
Ms. Jenny shouts "girls, do any of you have tracts?" I check my bible, i had 5....Kailyn had 4, Erika had 6 (i think, she kept pulling more out from somewhere) but Holly, Holly had 8! Yes she won...but sadly that still wasn't enough tracts. So we headed back to the church got more, but by that time we'd never make it to whites creek and back in time for church.
So after a call to Bro. Mickey to see where we could go locally, we headed to Sleepy Hollow, behind the YMCA (also on my bus route). Mr. Sattler drove around the neighborhood to scout where he wanted us to go, and as we observed from the windows there were tons of children in this neighborhood! (I love talking to kids) A play ground full and several walking down the street.
Kailyn, Megan and I walked up to the first door, knocked, and praise the Lord a girl named Chasity got saved!
Then Mr. Sattler sent us to the playground. There were two kids a boy and a girl walking away from the playground so we decided to talk to them. The boy's name was Caleb and the girl was...oh i know it started with a "B" help me here kay! Anyways Caleb accepted Christ as his Saviour, and i don't know about the girl cause if she didn't she didn't pray out loud...but i pray she did or will.
Then, we knocked on several more doors, Mr. Sattler talked to a boy Bo Hill who wants to ride my bus on Sunday, and i wrote down all his info on a tract...accidentally gave it away...talked to a Vietnam veteran, that's had heart surgery, a brain tumor, plays basketball with my pastor, nicknamed "Duck", has 3 sons, one daughter, 6 grandsons, and a granddaughter named Jaylyn and he sang "Somebody Prayed for me" for us and apparently it was his mother =) he was a joy to listen to.
We loaded back on the bus and the girls had a total of 9 Salvations! Praise the Lord!
Our Group saw 2 saved, Rachel Panas saw 2 saved, Thu saw 4 saved, and Brooke saw 1 saved!
Wow God is good! and all for forgetting tracts!
Till Then,
Rachael
God Bless!
Radiantly Dictated By at
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4 comments:

Sam said...

I loved when mr and mrs satler started taking the girls out for soulwinning. you know they're often over looked as being in the youth dept. but they deserve a big thank you too!

February 19, 2009 at 6:41 PM
RachaelLeigh said...

Yes they do! They are da bestest!

February 19, 2009 at 6:44 PM
Make a Joyful Noise said...

Hey I think that girls name was Breanna. Maybe???????

February 20, 2009 at 10:31 AM
RachaelLeigh said...

Thats right cause i wanted to call her Brittney but it was Briana! thanks...whew i feel better about that now!

February 20, 2009 at 11:01 AM

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I Have Been Blessed!!!!


THE ROOM

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to
catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some
were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.
Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it
and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this
room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw
a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.
He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name
of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
- Brian Moore