"Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things which thou knowest not." Jeremiah 33:3 God loves it when His children pray and seek His face. And He loves when we worship Him, for adoration is the foundation upon which all other prayer rests. Adoration finds the Christian entering into peace and comfort that can be found nowhere else but in Him. It is the cry of the restless heart finding His arms. You might say, but others think it is unnecessary to pray, to call on God for anything. We need not pray because God already knows what's going to take place even before it happens, and it would be a waste of His time and ours to pray about something. About anything. Well, that's just preposterous! Another trick of the evil one. Funny the things he wants you to accept as fact. So much scripture teaches us that we are to pray. Why, the disciples even asked the Lord Jesus to teach them to pray. Let's remove, once an...

Let us therefore come boldly into the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4:16 In chapter six of Isaiah, the prophet has seen the Lord, high and lifted up. He has watched as the seraphim (the expression of God's holiness) serve Him upon His Throne. He has heard them cry, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory." Perhaps Isaiah ponders what is next, for the seraphim are approaching him as it were in slow motion, with a live coal taken from off the altar. Mind you, he has just honestly confessed to The Lord of Hosts that he has a sin problem.  Surely not Isaiah  … who is about to write with a clear view of Grace the humiliations and sufferings of Messiah. Surely not Isaiah ... who will prophesy of Israel's exile to and the return from Babylon. Surely not Isaiah ...  who will write concerning David's Righteous Branch ...

I applied my ear to know, and to search, and to seek out wisdom, and to know the wickedness of folly, even of foolishness and madness. Eccl. 7:25 Surely you have noticed the onslaught of an old and argumentative system of theology, that is all of a sudden, well maybe over the last few years, "new again," restless ones joining the debate and jumping track to participate in the polemics. I do not want to be numbered with this group, a writer who constantly debates in opposition to others concerning contrived theological systems. There is far too much precious life-sustaining material in the Scriptures which we will never exhaust. No, not before Jesus returns to take us Home. I recently researched and wrote a thesis on such an argument for a client. I don't recommend this for the faint of heart, because it drains you of so much spiritual talent you could be using on something much more productive for the cause of Christ. A long time ago, I learned...

L ee walked the sweltering streets of the Bowery. Raw garbage covered every available corner and spilled into and out of the alleyways. Sound, like the garbage, permeated the thick air, and the smell of rotting vegetables and dirt mixed with laughter from the street urchins and dogs barking filled his ears and eyes and nose as he tried in vain to justify his reasons for being here. He hadn’t given himself access to this part of the city until now, and he was amazed at the cacophony of voices raised in every language. The world had landed on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and he could feel his senses overload from the beauty of the experience and the pain of the poverty. The streets, hard-packed with dirt a few years ago, were now white cement stained a grayish brown from traffic and the outdoor life of the poor. The summer months were unbearable indoors, and as Lee saw it, the less fortunate could move their entire lives outside to the city streets and courtyards and be far mor...

Nothing gives me more pleasure early of a morning than to have coffee and a cranberry orange muffin at Panera Bread in Simpsonville, SC. Those who really know me... well, you know I always find a place to commune with the Lord first and then do my work. Always in this order and as orderly as I know how, for I can really become scatter-brained if allowed my own way. My thoughts are going at a prodigious rate of speed and I can hardly wait to write something. Something meaningful. This morning was just one of many, and I had no idea I was going to impact a life in such a dynamic way. Dynamic on my side of the equation. I was the winner here. I am the life that was changed. But I have reason to believe ...  actually, to know, that another life was at least affected. I'm happy about that. I texted my dear friend, Bonnie. Every morning, I text my dear friend, Bonnie, as she does me! But this was a moment of remembrance and will always be. I will not tell you her side...

Writing a book is a very private endeavor, and like walking a tree-lined trail not being able to see what lies ahead, or like seeing through a glass darkly, I only know in part, because the story comes to me as I write. However, one thing remains true in the writing of any book, that is, for me. I can hardly wait to share it with someone, everyone. And as usual, I've not  given this latest work of mine a title, this  seventh book in my novels of the War Between the States, the aftermath, Reconstruction, and the amazing years that followed when the whole world began to change as a result of that evil War. For the time being,  we'll call it "Inherited Courage" for that is truly the story of Robert E. Lee Payne. It seems this courageous lad lived on the fringe of life from the time he was born to war hero, Albert Henry Payne, and throughout the incredible years that followed. Here's a bit of the Prologue. I'm now at 30,000 words— and...

Recently, I visited with my family in Mississippi before we caravan'd to Petit Jean Mountain near Little Rock, Arkansas. I was sound asleep one morning when I was pleasantly awakened by the angelic voice of my sister, Weesie. She was singing this song ... I hear thy welcome voice That calls me, Lord, to thee For cleansing in thy precious blood That flowed on Calvary. I am coming, Lord Coming now to thee; Wash me, cleanse me in the blood That flowed on Calvary. That song lingers with me, still. My sister asked me to take the devotion time at our family reunion on Saturday night before we all left to go our separate ways on Sunday morning. I used that song as a basis. It was quite appropriate, because in ages past—and we were all familiar with this exercise as performed by our Mama Smith and our Mother, Clytie, on separate agendas, of course— when we would visit, my grandmother used to wake us up in the middle of the night strumming fiercely on the old gui...