Thursday, September 26, 2013


Painting by Denise Daffara


Never stop praying for your husbands and children.

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.

She never existed before.

The woman existed, but the mother, never.

A mother is something absolutely new.

Mothers have an unfair advantage with the Lord.


In Luke 7, Jesus observed a huge funeral procession in Nain. 

The entire town was present. 

He observed the pastors and apostles weeping. 

He observed the elders weeping. 

He observed the fathers weeping. 

He observed the children weeping. 

He observed the sadness on people's faces. 

Nothing seemed to move Him, 


The Bible says He had compassion when He saw her and 

immediately raised her boy from the dead. (Luke 7:12 - 15)

It was the cry of a mother who moved the Heart of God.

Still today, Mothers who cry before the Lord for their families, 

for their marriage, for their homes move the Heart of God.

Painting by Ron DiCianni

When Mothers stop praying, their families (especially their children) perish.

Satan gets a foothold and starts to destroy the home.

Yet, when they return to their rightful place as the anchor of the home, demonic strongholds get demolished. As a Mother protects, upholds and defends her children, so does God also protect us under the shadow of His Wings. 

We find refuge there and can hide there until the danger is over.

A mother's role is so vital that a father cannot get his prayers answered if he dishonours or disrespects her (1 Peter 3:7). Because of this favour over mothers, they are also the most attacked persons in the home. 

The devil is terrified of Mothers (the powerhouse in the home).

Yet the Lord has put inside Mothers grace and resilience to overcome any situation. 

Today, as the woman of the home, consider yourself blessed.

Consider yourself highly favoured and consider yourself dangerous when you pray.

Painting by Caroline Street

Received the above sharing from a friend on Sept 26, 2013 ...

Images have been changed to reflect writer's preference.

Thursday, June 7, 2012


As I faced my Maker at the last Judgment, 

I knelt before the Lord along with the other souls. 

Before each of us laid our lives, like the squares of a quilt, in many piles.

An Angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together 
into a tapestry that was our life. 

As my Angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged 
and empty each of my squares were. 

They were filled with giant holes! 

Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, 
the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. 

I saw hardships that I had endured, which were the largest holes of all.

I glanced around me. 

Nobody else had such squares. 

Others had a tiny hole here and there, other tapestries were filled with rich color 

and the bright hues of worldly fortune.

I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. 

My Angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. 

Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light and the scrutiny of truth. 

The others rose each in turn, holding up their tapestries. 

So filled their lives had been.

My Angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. 

My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. 

I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. 

I had love in my life, and laughter. 

But there had also been trials of illness, death, and false accusations 
that took from me my world as I knew it.

I had to start over many times. 

I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster 
the strength to pick up and begin again. 

I had spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. 

I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully; 
each time offering it up to the Father, in hopes that I would not melt 
within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. 

Now, I had to face the truth. 

My life was what it was, and I had to accept it, for what it had been.

I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. 

An awe-filled gasp filled the air. 

I gazed around at the others who stared at me with eyes wide. 

Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. 

Light flooded through the many holes, creating an image.

The face of Christ.

Our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. 

He said,

"Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, 
and My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside 
and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.

Welcome Home, My Child."

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through.


source of article :

Thursday, April 28, 2011


Glory to God in the highest ... 

The Story Of Easter as told by the good thief on the other cross.

Images reflect on events during the Holy Week.

I don't belong here. 

I really don't. 

Paradise is the last place I expected 

to end up after all I've done. 

Let me tell you my story.

Palm Sunday : Jesus enters Jerusalem

I am -- I was -- an armed robber, I guess you'd call it. 

Me and Jake and the others would live in caves in the 
Judean hills near the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. 

We made our living by violence. 
We wouldn't take on people in the big groups 
that passed. They traveled together for safety. 
But a family alone would be an easy mark, 
as well as anyone fool enough to travel by himself.

Maundy Thursday - The Last Supper

Brandishing a strong staff would usually do the trick. 

Threaten them with a beating and they'd give up 
without much of a fight. I've been known to break 
a few bones in my day, God forgive me. 

I don't think I actually killed anyone, but then 
I never stayed around long enough to find out.

 Jesus washes the feet of his disciples ...

The first time I meet Jesus is when I am invited to 
a party in His honor in Jericho at the home of a 
rich tax collector named Zacchaeus. 

I am introduced, we shake hands, and Jesus looks 
me in the eye for a long moment. He can see right 
into me, who I am, every crime I have ever committed. 

Then He smiles this big friendly smile. 

"You know," He says. "There's forgiveness for you 
in My Kingdom. How about it?"

 Jesus preaches to a crowd.

I drop my eyes, say something non-committal, 
and shuffle away. The next day I'm in the crowd, 
hanging on every word he says. 

Jesus is talking about His Kingdom, comparing it 
to a mustard seed, calling it the Kingdom of Heaven. 

I  want so much to go up to Him after He has 
finished and take Him up on that forgiveness thing, 
but I just can't bring myself to do it.

 Judas betrays Jesus.

I wish I had. 

It isn't much later when me and my friend Jake, 
the guy on the third cross, get caught by a 
Roman patrol. 

The others run off, but they catch us, beat us silly, 
drag us into Jerusalem, and throw us in prison. 

No mercy for the likes of us.

Good Friday : Jesus is nailed to the cross.

And so it happens ...

that on the same day that they crucify Jesus, 

they crucify me and Jake ...

one of us on His left, the other on His right. 

This ain't no normal crucifixion. 

Mobs of people are there just because of Jesus. 

Self-righteous Pharisees are swaggering and mocking. 

"If you're some kind of messiah," one sneers, 

"come on down from that cross. 

If you're a savior, save yourself -- if you can!"

 Jesus says, "It is finished."

Jake begins cat-calling, too, if you can imagine that. 

I yell over at him, 

"You miserable thug, don't you have any fear of God? 
Can't you see that we're going to die just like He is? 
Show a little decency! We're getting exactly what we
deserve, but He ain't done nothing wrong."

Jake quiets down and the Pharisees lose interest. 

Jesus dies on the cross.

But I can't get Jericho out of my mind. 

I can't forget Jesus' eyes, His words, His invitation. 

And so I call over to Him, though it's getting hard 

to breathe and talking makes it that much harder.

 The body of Jesus is taken down from the cross 
and placed in the arms of His mother.

"Jesus!" I say. 

He turns His head towards me. 

"Jesus, I was there in Jericho. I met you at a party 

at Zacchaeus' house. Remember?"

He looks at me for a moment and then nods His head 

just a little. 

He does remember.

 Saturday Vigil : Jesus is laid in the tomb.

"I never forgot what You said. 

I wanted to say yes, but just couldn't. 

And now look at me -- look at us!"

He is in bad shape -- exhausted, 

in excruciating pain, 

back oozing, 

breath labored. 

He isn't going to last long. 

I can see that. 

But somehow, I can see beyond all that. 

 Easter Sunday : The stone securing the tomb has been rolled away.

He was the Messiah, is the Messiah, 

no matter what those priests and Romans 

and Pharisees have done to Him. 

And when He dies, He will be with God. 

In a few hours, maybe less, He will be vindicated. 

He will reign in that Kingdom He told us about.

 The tomb is empty.

"Jesus," I call again, quieter now.

He opens His eyes. 

They are the same eyes, the same piercing, 

loving, honest eyes.

"Jesus," I say, "when You come into Your Kingdom, 

would You remember me?"

 The women heard a voice saying, 
"Why do you look for the living among the dead?"

His words are labored, His lips parched, 

but I can still hear Him pretty well. 

"Truly, I say to you ..." His voice cracks, 

then is stronger for a moment. 

"Truly, this very day you will be with Me in Paradise."

 "He is not here ..."

His eyes droop. He is fading quickly now. 

But I believe Him. I do! 

That's what gets me through those next few hours 

until they break my legs to kill me. 

I do believe Him! 

"He is risen ..."

And then I find myself here in Heaven, in Paradise. 

I sure don't deserve to be here, but here I am anyway. 

I guess that's what a man like me gets when the 

King himself grants a pardon. 

Full forgiveness. 

Pretty amazing, don't you think?

By Dr Ralph F. Wilson.

The purest meaning of Easter is the celebration of Jesus' resurrection 
up to Heaven and His promise of eternal life.

Thank You Jesus ... 

for dying on the cross for me and saving me from my sins. Because of Your resurrection, You have conquered death. 
I will no longer die in vain but have eternal life with You. 

Forever. :D

 a silent thot ...
by lynn phua

Thursday, April 7, 2011


Fred and Ollie shared the same hospital room. 

They were both very ill.

Fred  was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour 

a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. 

His bed was next to the room's only window. 

Ollie had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. 

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military  service, their favorite vacations, and practically everything under the sun.

Every afternoon, whenever Fred could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

Ollie lived for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. 

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, Fred would say. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. 

Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. 

Ollie listened.

As Fred looked out of the window and described everything he saw in exquisite detail, Ollie who was on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, Fred described a parade that was passing by. 

Ollie could not hear the band.

However, he could see it in his mind, as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. 

An alien thought entered his head: 

Why should Fred have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see  anything? 

It didn't seem fair. 

As the thought fermented, Ollie felt ashamed. 

As the days passed, Ollie found his envy eroding into resentment and turning him into a bitter man. 

He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. 

He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as Ollie lay staring at the ceiling, 
he heard Fred began to cough. 

Fred was choking on the fluid in his lungs. 

Ollie watched in the dimly lit room as Fred struggled 
by the window and groped for the button to call for help. 

Listening from across the room, Ollie did not moved. 

He chose not to push his own button which would have brought the nurse running. 

In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. 

Now, there was only silence ... deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. 

When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened. She called the hospital attendant to take the body away ...

No words, no fuss ... 

As soon as it seemed appropriate, Ollie asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly and painfully, Ollie propped himself up on one 
elbow to take his first look. 

Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. 

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window 
beside the bed ... 

Alas ... 

It faced a blank wall.

The moral of the story:

The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice.

a silent thot ...
by lynn phua