I was chosen by God,
Not because of any good thing I have done.
I have a robe and a ring. I’m a son.
Not because I deserved it.
Or, had enough ends to earn it.
Or, could go to enough classes to confirm it
From the beginning he’s been wooing me,
Pursuing me,
Luring me
Something’s brewing inside of me
His grace was chasing
And pace-making my dead heart
He bought me.
Sought me.
Finally, caught me.
It is finished.
Accomplished mission
Naw, I am not some strange breed of Christian.
I am simply filled with gratitude,
Expressing my love for His grace
and my transformation.

Popularity: 12% [?]

I wanted to share this with you on our 15th year anniversary, but I did not have a copy with me in Aruba, plus the server was down at the resort. When Tonia and I were married 15 years ago, on the 10th day of July, 1994 @ 3:25 p.m., this is what I said to my bride:

To the beautiful one I stand before
It is you and you alone
I promise to love, cherish and adore

I make a solemn but joyful pledge this day,
before God and men
to love you in every way

It’s a love that is not wrapped in empty words,
but one that is seen
and not just heard

My vow this day is to provide and give
And a godly life before God, you and our children,
I will strive to live

I promise to wrap your delicate frame
in my arms when you are confused and afraid
and constantly remind you that His grace
is greater than our need.

I vow to look to and depend on the Lord of Hosts
and when an army of troubles come
in His power I will boast.

My love is tainted and incomplete
But in our most difficult times, when it will be hard to love,
I promise his love and grace we will seek.

I promise to trust Christ to guide the vessel of our marriage safely to port
Because never a mission have I known him to fail or abort

In the mind of God, from the very start,
Man and wife should become one flesh and never part.

So, to you and you only I will now cleave
and vow this day, except for death, to never leave

So when eyes are dimming and hair is graying
May I be found ever saying
I’m committed, to thee alone, I’m committed

When steps are shortened and beauty fading,
May I be found ever saying
I’m committed, to thee alone, I’m committed.

When these eyes are forever closed and my life’s breath cease,
May the testimony of my life be:
He was committed. To her alone, he was committed.

Over the last fifteen years, I have attempted to be faithful to live out these vows. But, I know I have failed, many times, (more than I care to recall), in living up to these lofty words. Today, I am working harder and harder to live in obedience to God’s role for me as a husband and embody these words that I spoke over 15 years ago.

What vows – marital or otherwise – have you made? Are you living up to the vows you made? What’s been the most difficult and the most rewarding part in living up to the vows you made?

Popularity: 43% [?]

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Written and read by Marvin L. Williams

Popularity: 23% [?]

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Written and read by Marvin L. Williams

Popularity: 16% [?]

As I ponder the quest to my rest, I am guilty of delaying my yes, at the behest of my flesh. Most days, my first reflex is to acquiesce to the request of my flesh, but I detest my flesh and through the power of the Spirit, I contest my flesh, wrest my flesh, desire to best my flesh, in hopes to arrest my flesh.  I keep reminding him that he’s an unwelcomed guest in my flesh and that he’s too underdressed to play chess with a King who can checkmate him in one move or less. Ah, but as I move toward my spiritual rest, I delay my yes at the behest of my flesh. Every day, in my own power, I am hard-pressed to check my flesh. Ya’ll, it’s complex. So, I must live and move in Him who was made manifest in the flesh in order to divest my flesh, undress my flesh, depress my flesh and give me recess from my flesh. Lest I forget the One who said come to me and I will give you rest and the One whose passion and death removed my sin as far as the East is from the West, I will daily return to Calvary, the place of the Ultimate Love fest.  But, sometimes I am guilty of delaying my yes at the behest of my flesh. Through the Spirit’s power, I will pass the test and my flesh won’t best me today, misdirect me today, negatively affect me today. Ya’ll, I’m walking in the Spirit. I can hear it, that is, His voice, leading me, guiding me, prodding me, prompting me, pushing me, convicting me, changing me, transforming me. I don’t desire to delay my yes at the behest of my flesh. But, why do I say yes to the request of my flesh? Here in lies my stress. So, I must ingest and digest the life and words of the One who gave me this new nature living inside my chest. But, I must confess, I am guilty of delaying my yes at the behest of my flesh. Who will deliver me from the mess of my flesh? Ah, yes! Jesus, the One who bested sin and death. 

How has your flesh/sinful nature delayed your “yes” to our heavenly Father? How will you use your mind and body as instruments of righteousness under the Spirit’s control today?

Popularity: 16% [?]

I was hewn down and that’s when the process began.
The cuts were sharp and deep. I was not a fan.
The pain was excruciating.
It was a pain like no other.
It was exhilarating!
But running beside my pain
was the joy of the specialness I might gain.
My sculptor did not tell me what I would be;
I just sensed in me that I could be.
I was so common for so long,
and now I was being shaped into something
unique and strong.
The days went by very quickly.
From the cuts, scrapes and pounding, I was sickly.
I felt the impact
of a sharp blade go up and down my back,
“Whack!”
Then a hack on my back,
another attack,
without tact and
with lack of love.
But I truly knew
I was being made into something
special and new.
As the day of completion approached,
I wondered what I would be.
I was anxious to see.
Would I be a masterfully carved antique face
or would I be the first plank on the royal stair case?
Was I an emblem of some great god?
Or was I the spitting image of some Greek body?
This type of musing was to exhausting for me to take
so I slumbered into a deep sleep and dreamed about my fate.
I was awakened to a new twenty-four
and thought, ”what will people say
when he walks with me through the door?”
I smiled with elation and brimmed with great anticipation
for this was the day when I would see me, feel me, love me,
a masterful creation.
“Finished at last” the artist sighed.
I wanted to cry because for the first time
I felt complete inside.
I felt honorable and famous.
But what was I? I don’t know.
I can’t see my face yet.
The pace
was too great
as the artist moved me to another place.
“Slow down, Slow down,
so I can see what you made me to be.
It was as if he heard me.”
His steps were now methodical, unhurried, and tamed
as the weight of my biology
was buried and pressed into his weak frame.
I looked to the right and there, in a mirror of some kind,
That?!
He wasted His time!
When I saw my reflection
I felt dejection
and depression from
the rejection
that I would receive
from people’s impression of me.
I was not famous, but infamous.
I was not unique, but ugly.
I was not a picture of fame but an emblem of suffering and shame.
I was not a bed where great men would lie.
I was a rugged piece of wood where murderers, thieves
and a man named Jesus would die.
I was diabolical, theological, paradoxical
I was a Cross! A Cross!
An ignominious, beautiful and glorious Cross!

What or who is God making you to be? Is it what you thought it would be? How has he used your pain to make you into something beautiful? Something useful? Something and someone who gives life?

Popularity: 12% [?]