Deuteronomy 6:6–7 (NIV)
“These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.”

My heart wants to start by saying, “Dear diary…” but I’m just not that kind of writer. However, I would be lying if I didn’t say that’s how I really feel. I haven’t written much lately because, honestly, I’m afraid. Yes, fearful of what may come out. I’ve avoided this journal entry for months because it’s hard. No, I’m not trying to be overly dramatic, but in less than two weeks, we’ll drop my only child off at college. Sure, countless people have done this before, but it’s different when you are the one saying goodbye. So… “Dear diary,” be kind to me and simply listen.

Lately, I’ve been remembering childhood scenes that now feel like prophecy. When I was in grade school, we used to play marbles at recess, back when the days were long and the biggest decisions were which marble to use and whether to play for keeps. We brought our best marbles from home, tucked away like treasure in our pockets. There was something sacred about those matches: crouching in the dirt, eyeing the target, flicking your thumb with complete focus and heart. The sound of glass tapping glass was like a tiny bell of joy. I didn’t know it then, but those games were practice—practice in letting go, in risk, in aiming carefully and hoping for the best. Somehow, they taught us that something small and round could hold weight, memory, and meaning. And now, all these years later, marbles are back in my hands again, but for a very different reason.

Each year, my pastor shares a powerful marble message that speaks to the fleeting nature of time with our children. The visual is jarring: large jars filled with marbles, each one representing a week in the eighteen years we have had them at home. Even with young children, the jars already seem far too empty. It’s a perspective reset, a silent whisper that time is constantly slipping. As young parents, we find ourselves longing for rest, for the next phase, until we realize, too late, that we wished away the most precious moments.

In full transparency, I was one of those parents. Life moved fast. Mostly, we lived on soccer fields and highways, juggling late-night homework, takeout in the car, and alarm clocks that rang far too early. But if you asked me now, I’d say I miss every bit of it. I miss glancing into the rearview mirror and seeing my son asleep, hair tousled, dreams unknown. My parents used to say, “No matter how old you get, you’re still someone’s baby boy.” I get it now. I understand it in my bones as I look at the young man who now stands taller than me. He is grown, yes…but still mine.

I’ve been holding on to these last two marbles for years. I knew these last two weeks would come. I honestly can’t believe I’m standing in it now. One marble, I send soaring with a flick of my hand, full of encouragement, wisdom, and the fierce love of a parent who has given everything and still wants to give more. As it rolls forward, it disturbs the dandelion tufts, the image I hold so dearly. Each tuft floats like a holy whisper, representing gifts, prayers, and truths planted by God. May they scatter with divine precision, settling into soil that’s already been prepared just for him. May God’s breath carry them with strength and gentleness. May angels go ahead and behind him, protecting what has been sown.

The second and final marble I give you slowly, deliberately. This one is sacred. It marks your last week under my roof, and I place it in your hand with an open palm and an aching heart. I gently close your fingers around it, not just as a symbol of goodbye, but as a commission. This marble carries a legacy. It holds the name of Jesus Christ etched into your spirit and my name carried on your back. Let it remind you of where you come from and of the purpose set before you. You come from a family rooted in faith, service, and healing, where many before you chose the path of healthcare and pharmacy as a way to care for others and honor God. Now, you continue that legacy, stepping into the same calling with the potential to go even further. May you be blessed in your future as a pharmacist, not only with success, but with the divine intelligence, drive, and desire that God has instilled in you for such a time as this. And one day, when it is your turn to place a marble into your own child’s jar, I pray you remember this moment. God’s blessings stretch far beyond this goodbye. They are not confined to one generation, one jar, or one hand. They are eternal.

And so, as I close this journal entry, I realize that this is not a story about endings. It’s a story about release. About trusting the aim, about flicking the marble even when your hand trembles. It’s about remembering how we learned to play in the dirt with glass spheres that somehow held the weight of hope. And it’s about believing, truly believing, that love doesn’t end when the jar empties. It multiplies. Rolls forward. Finds new hands. New jars. New soil. And just maybe…[pause, breathe]…that’s how we never really say goodbye.

Dear diary, thank you for listening.

Christian Armetta

Bible Bible Study Celebration Christianity Church Community Courage Daily Devotion Devotion Faith Focus Friends Friendship Glory God Gossip Grace Heart Holy Spirit Hurt Jesus Joy Lies LIfe light Love Mercy Miracle Path Peace Prayer Promises Protection Provider Reflection Religion Shelter Spirit Spiritual Warfare Storms thoughts Truth Victory Words worry

Exodus 2

The Birth of Moses

2 Now a man of the tribe of Levi married a Levite woman, ² and she became pregnant and gave birth to a son. When she saw that he was a fine child, she hid him for three months. ³ But when she could hide him no longer, she got a papyrus basket for him and coated it with tar and pitch. Then she placed the child in it and put it among the reeds along the bank of the Nile. ⁴ His sister stood at a distance to see what would happen to him.

⁵ Then Pharaoh’s daughter went down to the Nile to bathe, and her attendants were walking along the riverbank. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her female slave to get it. ⁶ She opened it and saw the baby. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said.

⁷ Then his sister asked Pharaoh’s daughter, “Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?”

⁸ “Yes, go,” she answered. So the girl went and got the baby’s mother. ⁹ Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, “Take this baby and nurse him for me, and I will pay you.” So the woman took the baby and nursed him. ¹⁰ When the child grew older, she took him to Pharaoh’s daughter and he became her son. She named him Moses, saying, “I drew him out of the water.”

I tried to protect you.

Through the trial, through the fiery darts that rained down like spears from Pharaoh’s fury, I wrapped you in prayer and trembling hands. My heart bore the weight of a lion bleeding in silence, shielding his pride from the arrows of familiar hands. Yet, even in my desperation, I knew—I was not your only protector. I did all I could: I hid you as long as I could.

But the walls of our home grew too thin for the spiritual storm outside giving way to the tornadic fury.

So I gathered the bulrushes, soft but strong, weaving each reed with hope and trembling. Papyrus—light enough to float, sturdy enough to carry a calling. I sealed the seams with pitch and tar, the same way I sealed every whispered prayer, every “Lord, cover her,” with a husband’s faith.

That basket was not just a cradle; it was a covenant. The same one you spoke over her long ago: “His Masterpiece.” How poetic – Broken into Beautiful: I pick up pieces to create her basket of safety.

I placed you on the Nile’s edge, in the cradle of confidence. But the waters that bore my darkest season would bear life for you. For God wrapped His own wings around that frail little ark—an ark not unlike Noah’s, keeping judgment at bay. His Spirit hovered over those waters, just as He hovered at creation. He quieted the current. He commanded the reeds to stand like watchmen, guarding you until help came.

And then I walked away…[pause, reflect, breathe]

Not in abandonment, but in obedience. My arms let go, but my faith held fast. For the God who held you in the river would not leave you in the rushes.

You were hidden from the decree, but not from your destiny.

Because God’s plans were greater.

You were drawn out—not just from the water, but from obscurity, from danger, from fear. Pharaoh’s daughter lifted you, but it was God who raised you. And though she named you Moses, “drawn out,” I saw a deeper meaning: God was already calling you out—out of hiding, out of limitation, out of bondage. Just as He would one day use you to draw a nation out from the depths of slavery into the light of freedom. He says, “Big picture my child.”

Even now, as you journey—ministering, moving, maturing—I see the pattern again. You may feel surrounded by reeds or troubled by the tides, but God always finds someone of godly character to cover you, to protect you along the way.

I may not always walk directly beside you, but I will always kneel in intercession for you. I may not be in the Nile but my reflection is still there.

For I believe, as surely as the Nile carried your destiny forward, so will the Spirit of God guide you. And if you ever question His presence, remember this: before you ever stood on holy ground, you were already held by holy hands.

You are Moses.

Drawn out.

And now you draw others—out of confusion, out of despair, out of chains.

May your journey always remember its beginning.

And may your end be a reflection of the One who carried you from the river to the mountain.

No Pharaoh will ever hold you down. 

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

• Bible Study
• Christian
• Christian & Religious
• Daily Devotion
• Devotion
• Faith
• Forgiven
• Grace
• Inspiration
• Jesus
• Mercy
• Prayer
• Uncategorized

Psalm 77:11

¹¹ I will remember the deeds of the Lord;
    yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.

[Reflective]

Most of you probably won’t recognize anything in this image, so let me share. I’ve caught myself staring at it for hours, watching decades of memories stir beneath the surface like ripples on the water.

This is Bayou DeSiard, flowing quietly through the heart of the University of Louisiana at Monroe. I spent six years here, approximately thirty years ago. And in just a few months, my son will walk these same grounds, beginning his own journey. It’s a full-circle moment—one that carries more weight than I expected.

At the beginning of the year, God gave me one word: remembrance. I didn’t welcome it easily. I’m a visionary by nature—always looking ahead, dreaming forward. So I asked, “Are You sure, God?” [Insert that half-smile of knowing better by now.] But God wasn’t just giving me a theme. He was giving me an assignment.

I didn’t want to remember—not the hard parts, anyway. Sure, there were beautiful moments, clear signs of God’s provision and purpose. But buried deep in those years were also wounds I tried to leave behind. Pain that still stings if I let my heart go there. What I didn’t realize is that God wasn’t bringing me back to harm me—He was showing me how far we’ve come together.

When I look at this photo, my eyes are drawn to the reflection of the trees beneath the surface. That reflection runs deep—and for me, it’s more than a visual. It represents the trials, heartaches, and silent battles that shaped me. Beneath the surface of my life, where few people could see, I was walking through a season of intense pain. A time when my spiritual character—my very heart and intentions—were questioned, doubted, and judged.

It wasn’t just criticism. It was a trial of the soul. There’s something uniquely painful about having your faith—your relationship with God—put on trial. About being misunderstood, misrepresented, and falsely judged in areas that matter most to who you are. That pain doesn’t just touch the mind—it pierces the heart. And for a while, I wasn’t sure if I’d come through it without being completely burned up.

But here’s what I see now: just like those cypress trees rising tall from the water, I grew. Not in spite of the pain, but because of it. The roots of my growth reached deep into the soil of those trials. And what looked like destruction was actually construction—God was building something in me that couldn’t be shaken by other people’s opinions.

The ripples in the water remind me that God never leaves us stagnant. He stirs the waters of our hearts, often through the discomfort of pain or disruption. But He does it so we don’t settle in the wrong place. Stagnant water breeds decay—but movement brings life, healing, change.

And then there’s the light. In this picture, you can see the sun reflecting on the surface, gently breaking through. That light is a reflection of God’s presence—steady, revealing, redeeming. It didn’t erase the past, but it redefined it. His light helped me see clearly what I couldn’t understand in the moment: that the trial didn’t ruin me—it refined me.

For the last year and a half, I’ve had the sacred opportunity to walk with others through their own storms in pastoral counseling. And I don’t approach that role from a place of perfection, but from a place of compassion. Because I’ve been in the deep. I know what it’s like to have your heart questioned and your motives judged—and I also know the healing that only God’s truth can bring.

So now, when I remember, I don’t just see pain. I see purpose. I see that the roots beneath the water—the things no one else saw—were the very foundations of the man standing here today. I see how God stirred the waters so I wouldn’t settle into bitterness. I see how His light broke through and led me out.

And I pray that He continues to use every part of my story—not to make much of me, but to make much of Him. If this picture says anything, it’s that the same waters that tried to pull me under are now the place where I stand tall—rooted, refined, and still growing.

As I watch my son prepare to step onto this campus, I carry a quiet prayer in my heart—that the lessons I’ve learned will somehow guide him as he chases his own dreams. Just as I have had to stand on God as my firm foundation through every storm, I pray he learns to do the same, trusting that God will lead him, strengthen him, and grow him—even through the waters.

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

Bible Bible Study Celebration Christianity Church Community Courage Daily Devotion Devotion Faith Focus Friends Friendship Glory God Gossip Grace Heart Holy Spirit Hurt Jesus Joy Lies LIfe light Love Mercy Miracle Path Peace Prayer Promises Protection Provider Reflection Religion Shelter Spirit Spiritual Warfare Storms thoughts Truth Victory Words worry

• Bible Study
• Christian
• Christian & Religious
• Daily Devotion
• Devotion
• Faith
• Forgiven
• Grace
• Inspiration
• Jesus
• Mercy
• Prayer
• Uncategorized

Psalm 145:16

¹⁶ You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.

In the still of night, you called my name with a simple flicker. I opened the door and chased after you. Barefooted, I ran through stiff blades of grass whispering treble chords like a bow across a violin. You paused at the edge of a cricket symphony and began to sway to their melody.

In hindsight, you were creating poetic pause for my little feet. As I neared, my steps softened and slowed. I stood next to you and stared in awe. What brilliance! My hand reaching out with tenderness as you met me there. Landing effortlessly in my palm your light grew brighter. The maestro using his entire body of light and wind to both speak and call. I understood the resonance of your wings and the message of your flicker.

As the stars danced across the sky, your light attracted more. With a heart smile, I heard you say, “Take us home with you?” “All eighteen of you!” I explained with heightened excitement. “Yes, but you will release one of us each year.” “How will I know the right time?” I asked with questions swirling in my little mind. “You will know.”

One – You cheered me on when I took my first step. I said goodbye to one of you that day. Thank you for walking with me and holding me up with your wings.

Two – You flooded my room with flickers of lights when I was afraid of the dark. I said goodbye to another one that day. Thank you for dispelling the shadows on my walls with your light.

Three – You cheered me up with songs of joy when I fell and hurt my knee. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for shaping wind into music and singing over me.

Four – Your wings fluttered my brow to help me sleep while singing, “Hush little baby, don’t say a word.” I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for watching over me as I sleep.

Five – You encouraged me with your light show as my knees trembled walking into my first school. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for staying by my side as close as a dear friend.

Six – You caught my tears with a rush of wind after losing my soccer game. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for your encouragement.

Seven – You calmed my thoughts when the world did not make sense. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for sharing the truth.

Eight – You hovered around my heart in spiritedness as I prayed for Jesus to enter my life. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for protecting my heart and showing me THE WAY.

Nine – You cheered for me with flickers of joy when my team won the tournament. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for showing me great skills on land and air.

Ten – You helped me learn math and science as I continued to grow. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for being a great teacher.

Eleven – You created a cool breeze for my weary heart when I felt alone. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for being my comforter.

Twelve – You walked with me in locker filled hallways and uncertainty. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for always going before me.

Thirteen – You taught me how to use my voice for good and for God’s glory even though it was cracking along the way. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for your mentorship.

Fourteen – You carried my burdens with your strong wings as relationships failed. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for shouldering my fears.

Fifteen – You rode with me like a best friend as I drove for the first time. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for being a guiding light.

Sixteen – You protected me with your light and outstretched wing when darkness tried to consume me. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for sacrificing yourself for my good.

Seventeen – You laughed at my jokes even when they really weren’t that funny. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for resting on my smile and telling me to be cheerful even in the hard times.

Eighteen – You packed my backpack one last time with the faintest flicker. I said goodbye to you that day. Thank you for caring for me even when I didn’t recognize it.

I carried you, the last firefly, to the place where we met years ago. Through pillowy grass and to the edge of a wilderness future, I placed you in my palm and lifted you ever so slowly to the sky. You didn’t fly away. I carefully moved you to my fingertip and placed you in front of my eye. “I’ve never seen a firefly cry” I said with sorrow in my throat.

Your wings began to oscillate and you lifted your body ever so closely to my ear and said, “Don’t forget to come back to the woods my son. When the world feels heavy, you’ll find joy at the edge of the forest for it mimics the hem of His garment. Just reach out, and I’ll be there with fiery light.”

Instantly memories flooded my mind as I watched you fly away – tucking me in at night, kissing my head, running alongside my bike, studying math, and watching me drive away. You can always go back to the days of Christopher Robin if you sit long enough at the edge of the woods with fireflies.

~Welcome to Senior Year! May God protect our children and fill them with His Holy Spirit. May God burn up what is not of Him and fill our children with His fruits. May each step be sprinkled with salt and light where those who follow you can taste and see that the Lord is good!

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

• Bible Study
• Christian
• Christian & Religious
• Daily Devotion
• Devotion
• Faith
• Forgiven
• Grace
• Inspiration
• Jesus
• Mercy
• Prayer
• Uncategorized

Bible Bible Study Celebration Christianity Church Community Courage Daily Devotion Devotion Faith Focus Friends Friendship Glory God Gossip Grace Heart Holy Spirit Hurt Jesus Joy Lies LIfe light Love Mercy Miracle Path Peace Prayer Promises Protection Provider Reflection Religion Shelter Spirit Spiritual Warfare Storms thoughts Truth Victory Words worry

Psalm 32:8

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.

[Journal Entry – Reflective]

It was a muggy summer morning that August day in 1996. I grabbed my Bible and stealthily walked through the cabin so as not to wake the campers. I opened the door and felt the humid summer heat radiating from the ground and air even though the sun barely peeked over the horizon at 6:00 a.m. As camp counselors, we were instructed to read our Bibles, pray, and spiritually meditate before waking the young campers in our room. I sat down with my back pressed against the sticky brick like I always did each morning for the last three months. This was my last week as a camp counselor, and I didn’t want it to end, but it was time for me to return to college.

As I read my Bible, I audibly heard the voice of the Lord tell me to change my college major from psychology to medical speech-language pathology. I thought someone was speaking to me from around the corner because the voice rose in me with powerful overtones. I turned my head, looking for the author in noticeable surprise, “Did I just hear the Lord speak directly to me,” I wondered.

One would say that audibly hearing the voice of the Lord was the best part of the story, and arguably, you might be right. However, the miracle was not the voice; it was the mere fact that I didn’t know what medical speech-language pathology was, nor had I been exposed to this profession before God directly instructed me. I was torn because I knew God called me into Christian counseling even as a youth, so I was majoring in psychology then. Yet, I knew I had to walk in obedience for how many times can someone proclaim, “God spoke to me and said…”

It was as if God had taken a delicate dandelion, placed it close to His lips, and breathed life, direction, and purpose into each seed that left the flower head that day. The next couple of weeks were a true whirlwind. I returned to college and opened the book of majors in the registrar’s department. The secretary asked, “What are you looking for, young man?” I said, “I need to look at the medical speech-language pathology curriculum because God told me to change my major.” She hesitantly acknowledged, “So, you’re changing your major to something you know nothing about?” I said with assurance, “Yes, ma’am.” I remember reading the list of classes, possible job placements, and years of schooling, and I thought, “I definitely can do this!”

Decades later and four degrees under my belt, I can emphatically say, “God is good, and He didn’t make a mistake.” Yet, my heart yearned for my original calling in Christian counseling. I know God has given me wisdom and vision from the Holy Spirit that I want to pour out onto others. Over the past thirty years, I’ve watched dandelion seeds effortlessly leave God’s hub and find their home in prepared soil. These seeds sprouted, grew, and multiplied in God’s garden of grace. However, I’ve also watched storms take hold of my other seeds and violently toss them in relentless rain, hail, and lightning, hoping to tear them apart.

In full admission, watching your seeds become worn, damaged, and lifeless through unrelenting storms is hard. Man’s breath originated these storms through words intent on killing instead of bringing life. As each negative word ripped through my seeds’ tufts, I truly believed those ministry seeds were too damaged to fly. In the last year, I’ve watched man’s breath rip into the parachute of these God-ordained dandelions, ripping holes in my soul and my purpose. At the time, I didn’t know God was ending a season, for I thought I was watching a dream die. Instead, God was moving me into my next garden.

I picked up these tiny tufts destroyed by man’s breath and returned them to the Creator. He lifted my chin and said, “I’m not done with you yet.” In fact, God reminded me of two important Biblical principles that day: “And we know in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to His purpose” [Romans 8:28]. “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails” [Proverbs 19:21].

During that challenging season of watching man’s breath attempt to destroy my purpose, God providentially opened the door for me to return to school and obtain a graduate certificate in pastoral counseling from Liberty University. Instantly, God highlighted His omniscience by allowing me to begin pastoral counseling in my church under the direction of my pastor. There aren’t enough words to affirm this man for encouraging me and reinforcing God’s gifts in me. Through countless words of encouragement from my pastor, friends, and family, I officially received my graduate certificate in pastoral counseling this week.

God showed me that His purpose for my life is all that matters. Man’s breath can be destructive, but God is the One who orchestrates my steps. He delicately picked up those broken tufts and breathed new life into them. In this world, we will fight against the evil powers, rules, and darkness of this world. Sadly, even those we admire fall victim to the enemy’s plans. God revealed His supreme authority by bringing broken pieces back to life. Why? Because God had more incredible things in store. Now, I’m using God’s breath to counsel, deliver, and heal broken relationships and souls through the power of Jesus. I walk in tandem with the God who not only breathes but moves my dandelion tufts where He wants them to go, and no man will ever destroy that.   

Therefore, I encourage you today. If you are reading this and believe you have no purpose, God has abandoned you, or all hope is lost, please permit God to bring your tufts back to life. He is not done with you yet. Once God breathes new life into something, you may find yourself chasing dandelion tufts on mountain tops on a bright summer’s day. You may dance in a wind of tufts covering you like God’s wing offering protection and rest. In complete and unabated worship, you may run in anticipation with outstretched arms to heaven’s throne. You may sit in reverence, knowing God has planted your tufts exactly where you’re supposed to be. You may fall prostrate in God’s presence. Either way, you will focus on God’s breath – not man’s.

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

Bible Bible Study Celebration Christianity Church Community Courage Daily Devotion Devotion Faith Focus Friends Friendship Glory God Gossip Grace Heart Holy Spirit Hurt Jesus Joy Lies LIfe light Love Mercy Miracle Path Peace Prayer Promises Protection Provider Reflection Religion Shelter Spirit Spiritual Warfare Storms thoughts Truth Victory Words worry

• Bible Study
• Christian
• Christian & Religious
• Daily Devotion
• Devotion
• Faith
• Forgiven
• Grace
• Inspiration
• Jesus
• Mercy
• Prayer
• Uncategorized

Matthew 9:16

¹⁶ No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and the tear is made worse.

I have been doing a bit of spring cleaning the past two days; o.k., more than a bit. I’ve been doing a complete clean-out! There’s something about the change of seasons, especially warmer air that helps give you the encouragement needed to tackle some big projects in the house. When I talk about spring cleaning, I am not merely talking about sweeping, mopping, and washing per se. I am referencing a deep clean-out in rooms and closets! I even ventured into my attic and wrestled heavy boxes loaded with college books that were almost thirty years old.

I have to say, I did not enjoy long hours of physical labor, but I did enjoy reminiscing as I came across old photographs, binders, and clothes. My pastor preaches a sermon called “Marbles,” and I saw them rolling around in my attic, not physically but figuratively. Each marble represents a year with your child while he is at home; when you look at it, you don’t have many marbles to teach your kids especially about Jesus.

While in the attic, I picked up bags of my son’s old toys and stuffed animals. I will admit…I held on to some of the animals a little longer while memories danced in my head. How could I have forgotten so easily? There were bags of farm animals, superheroes, and Legos. I gently placed them back in their bag, almost as if they held their own memories. I could “hear” the chatter as if time had whisked me back into that playroom a decade ago.

I then came across boxes upon boxes of clothes. Some we could donate, while others we hope to pass down. I couldn’t help but laugh at all the dirt-stained, grass-stained, and ripped jeans packed in one box. My son has always been active! He is about to turn seventeen, and we are still dealing with dirty clothes from an overly active lifestyle; I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t think there’s a sport he hasn’t played or at least tried.

I was reminded of Jesus’ parable about patches in that pile of jeans. As I rummaged through that box, the Holy Spirit spoke this parable to me as my fingertips held firmly onto memories. Most of us recount the parable of the wineskins: “No one puts new wine into old wineskins.” This is a good one, and the song [New Wine] will wreck you! It’s one of my family’s favorites; this is also my wife’s testimony- a journal entry worthy for her to write when she’s ready.

Yet, many of us gloss over the parable of patches, which comes just before the wineskins. If I were to be completely honest and transparent with you, many of us have a cyclical relationship with patches. We hear, see, taste, and speak freedom yet attach ourselves to old garments. If you remain in truth, there is only one outcome: you will be ripped away.

However, there is another lesson I want to make based on this parable. “Unshrunk cloth” would, in fact, shrink in the wash and pull away, causing a tear. Yet, some refuse to even “wash” their jeans; thus, their patch eventually acclimates to the old again..[pause]…Yes, you CAN acclimate to the old by refusing to be washed in the truth. The truth will always rip you away. Yet, somehow, we find ourselves attracted to the old.

I like how the Bible commentary states, “Jesus did not come to repair this old garment. He is not interested in joining the old system of righteousness based on external rule-following that is riddled with tears of hypocrisy. He came to provide inner and external harmony between God and man. Jesus did not come to mend here and there. He came to make all things new (Revelation 21:5). Taking His teaching as a patch to the old system would only make its tears worse.”

I believe the soul-piercing statement is this: “Jesus did not come to repair this old garment. He is not interested in joining the old system of righteousness…” In my life, I see this repeatedly. Many who cling, attach, and “sew” themselves back into the “old system of righteousness” acclimate to legalism. This sounds firm because it is. The Bible also references (1) being lukewarm and (2) serving two masters. Frankly, there’s nothing light about that either.

Humans tend to live in cognitive dissonance; we truly like consistency, including our belief system. Many who taste freedom eventually find themselves patched to an old garment because they revert to norms. The problem is that the devil doesn’t wash garments. He prefers stench, foul orders, and filth.

In this world, Jesus told us to be careful of deceivers. Sadly, I have encountered some who have hurt me [and my family] dearly, all in the “name of Christianity.” I am thankful that I fully understand that we are not fighting flesh and blood but evil rulers of this dark world. We could discern other deceivers worldwide based on their words and actions if we were honest. 1 John 1:6 says, “If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth.”

My prayer has always been that we may remain faithful and true to the end. 2 Corinthians 11:13-14 says, “For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into apostles of Christ. ¹⁴ And no wonder! For Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light.” I pray that we walk with unveiled eyes. As believers, we are “unshrunk cloth” and should not attach ourselves to old, false teachings. Jesus told us to be careful in these wicked times.

Lesson: This is a call to stand up, stay faithful, know the Word, and remain IN CHRIST! Your patch is too beautiful to be attached to old garments. The Bible commentary ends by saying, “Our hearts and minds are like old garments. Applying a new patch of unshrunk cloth of Jesus’s teaching will not mend their tears. It will make them worse. We need to be given entirely new hearts (Psalm 51:10) and new minds (Romans 12:2) that Christ offers us every day.”

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

• Bible Study
• Christian
• Christian & Religious
• Daily Devotion
• Devotion
• Faith
• Forgiven
• Grace
• Inspiration
• Jesus
• Mercy
• Prayer
• Uncategorized

Bible Bible Study Celebration Christianity Church Community Courage Daily Devotion Devotion Faith Focus Friends Friendship Glory God Gossip Grace Heart Holy Spirit Hurt Jesus Joy Lies LIfe light Love Mercy Miracle Path Peace Prayer Promises Protection Provider Reflection Religion Shelter Spirit Spiritual Warfare Storms thoughts Truth Victory Words worry

Hebrews 10:35-36

³⁵ So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. ³⁶ You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.

[Journal – Narrative]

I’ll never forget that day, cold and windy. I was comfortable where I was, but you called from afar. It was hard to leave the things I knew or should I say…control. The still small voice in the distance wasn’t so still or small inside my soul. “Come, follow me!” you said with a reverberating sound I thought my bones were going to shatter. “Where are we going?” I asked while gathering my coat and walking out the door. “To chase rainbows,” you said with joy bubbling off your voice.

As I turned to close the door, I was shocked to see that the door had disappeared. “How could that be?” I asked. “I just walked out of the door.” With confidence in your eyes, you said, “Keep your eyes fixed on me. I’m taking you somewhere new.” I’m starting to realize that I never had a problem with “drawing near” [come] to my Savior but experiencing a mighty faith challenge…ok doubt…when it comes to “going after” [follow] the Creator wherever He calls.

As I walked, I could see storms brewing up ahead. “Do you see that?” I asked with cautious trembling. [SILENCE]. “WHERE DID YOU GO?!” I pleaded! These weren’t your normal storms that quickly pass through on a spring afternoon. I could see raging clouds gathering, amassing, forming as if they were headed straight for me. In the distance, I heard you calling as I cried out, “Keep your eyes fixed on me; we are chasing rainbows.” I thought in pure fear, “How could I chase rainbows when it’s pitch black all around me?”

The storm came, and it did not let up! I tried. In my weakness, I tried to keep my eyes fixed on you but all I could see were the clouds. They were so dark. One of the storm clouds is gaining strength now and lowering its base to meet me face-to-face as I walk on this road. The cloud resembles a face – tortured and angry. It opens what appears to be its mouth and yells, “You aren’t good enough! There are so many people better than you who could do what HE is asking! Why would anyone pick you?” While the storm cloud’s mouth was still open, I walked through it!!…broken. Yet, the cloud disappeared instantly.

My gait slowed significantly. I wanted to chase rainbows but not this way! “What are you doing to me?” I shouted. A breeze lifted my chin as I quietly heard in the distance, “Keep your eyes fixed on me.” Along the path, there were intermittent bursts of sunshine. Yet, I was still chasing the elusive rainbow. Just when I thought I had dried off from the first storm, I could see the second one rolling in, larger than the first. “No! not again!” I slumped. Fleshly speaking, I didn’t think I could survive another storm.

Yet, just before the storm hit, I could still “see” birds gathering together performing a beautiful dance in the sky as they took advantage of the gust. I could “see” the sand standing up in the wind from its original place on the ground as if it were praising its Creator with hands waving back and forth. I could “see” leaves swirling together as if they were thankful that the strong breeze brought them back together. I could “see” colors from the lightning that were normally hidden now brought to the forefront as if they were cheerfully running in great anticipation. I could “see” the animals playing in the field roused with excitement for water like children playing in a summer’s silhouette.

However, as I pressed on…the storm did too! The largest and fiercest of clouds threw his fiery darts of lightning straight for my mission. “You don’t see things!” he laughed in prideful acceleration. “That’s impossible and not real” he continued. The lightning and thunder gripped my heart as I fell to the ground. The hail pelted my back as I lost all strength to stand. The storm’s strong breeze ripped through my ears like never-ending gossip. “When will this end?” I cried out!

Just then, I felt His hand. “Peace be still!” He spoke. The storms split, the wind ceased, and the clouds parted. “Why did you bring me here?” I asked as He lifted me. “To chase rainbows,” He said confidently and with a smile. “You can’t get close to a rainbow without going through storms,” He whispered in a strong embrace. “Look up!” He said in confidence. There…just above was the most majestic rainbow I’ve ever seen. My eyes filled with tears for He kept His promise.

I ran chasing one end of the rainbow to the other while He watched and laughed like a father to a son. As I cheered, He said, “Don’t throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.” [Hebrews 10:35-36].

As we sat near the end of the rainbow, the atmosphere shifted and it was as if the rainbow had landed in my lap [as described by a good friend]. It was now so bright that I could no longer see it. “Is this the pot of gold?” I jokingly asked. He said, “In fact it is!” He continued, “The last thing I told you was…’ you will receive what he has promised.'” I understood fully what He meant.

This “gold” was not what the world thought it was. The treasure is MEANT to be given away. It was a box of my spiritual gifts. God brought me to a new place, through storms, to SEE what He has not only spiritually gifted me with but to share with His people! These are NOT MINE but HIS. Therefore, I must give them away, and I’m pleased to do so.

I will carry my gifts with great anticipation as an ambassador for the King. Despite the storms, I will share Jesus’ LIGHT, VISION, PRAYER, and COUNSEL as a minister to His Word. No one (or thing) can take away what God has given to me, which is my testimony, spiritual gifts, and purpose!!! I [WE] are called to be His disciples.

Jesus is Lord. He has gifted you and me. As believers, we are ONE BODY IN CHRIST working collectively for HIS purpose. We are called to make disciples, heal the sick, counsel the brokenhearted, deliver the oppressed from the grip of darkness, and speak the name of Jesus wherever we go. We do all of these things through the power and authority of the Holy Spirit living inside of us, not OF US, but of God IN US. Praise God!

STORMS MAY CLAP, BUT I WILL NOT BE SILENCED.  

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

Psalm 91

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
² I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”

[Journal Entry]

From my earliest memories as a child, I remember being made fun of. I was always… different; the red hair may have played a part in that. Trust me, I stare into the mirror, daily, and wish I had the thick, red hair moving around like ocean waves now. I was short – still am [ha] – with an Italian nose, but definitely had confidence. I loved music and was proud to be the drum major for our high school band. I stood on top of that podium every football Friday night leading the charge while the percussion, brass, and lights spun the laughter from my peers sitting in the stands away from me. I also excelled in long distance running and was a gymnastics all around state champion two years in a row…but still…different. Boys don’t have red hair, should be playing football instead of band, and definitely shouldn’t be good at gymnastics. Different.

I learned from a very early age how to build my confidence because I fought for everything. My parents taught me well. My parents are a child’s dream when you think about it: they are wise, educated, and fear the Lord most importantly. My core character came from this upbringing. Going to church wasn’t an option; it was life. One core family memory includes watching my father get his large Bible, highlighter, fifty (not exaggerating) Bible concordance books, notepads, and pens from the closet and lay them all out on top of the dining room table every Saturday night. He read, studied, wrote, and prayed for hours. How do I know?…children watch and imitate!!

I’ve always said, “If I could be just 10% of my daddy, I’d do really well in this world!” I’ve watched my daddy study God’s word my entire life and raise his children with a shepherd’s eye and voice. My mother not only imitated every Christlike behavior but she also sang like an angel. God knew what He was doing when He created my two older sisters and myself with parents who loved the Lord and taught us well. We are all…different.

I wasted so many years not recognizing the covering. Why does it work that way? Children grow up wishing to leave while adults beg to come back home. Today, I received a letter in the mail with two feathers: one for my wife and one for me. The verse reference was Psalm 91. My devotion that I’ve been reading for several days has been this very passage as well. I’ve been covered since I was born: first by my parents then my Savior when I chose HIM! So…I’m different.

I chose to spend the rest of my life helping set the captives free as my Savior has instructed me. This starts with accepting Him. Tell me your Jesus story! I would love to hear it. Then, let’s shake off the baggage from year’s past and walk in freedom. My father has a business degree. My mother has multiple educational degrees and a school counseling degree. There is zero accident in God’s Kingdom that I received each of their giftings. God created me to be – different – business minded yet soft enough to hear the brokenness in your heart and help you release the hurt inside through the power of Jesus in me!

My parents did their job, and they did it well. I’m a confident, Christ-follower who is still trying to reach that 10% of his own father’s character. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever get there! But…I’ll keep trying, and I’m still watching. Yet, when I walk in my calling, God is the center and He is 100% in me. I may be different, but I’m never alone. I choose to dwell in the shelter of the Most High. It is a choice. He is my refuge and my fortress. As I sit and contemplate, I can see God’s feather tree leaning over me all of my life.

Thankful,

Christian Armetta

• Bible Study
• Christian
• Christian & Religious
• Daily Devotion
• Devotion
• Faith
• Forgiven
• Grace
• Inspiration
• Jesus
• Mercy
• Prayer
• Uncategorized