Skip to main content

Little Girl Faith



   Faith without works is dead…God must want the stroke of my keyboard to spell out faith in my blog posts.  My last post was faith-filled also.  I don’t think we can get enough encouragement in the Lord, so this is what was on my heart recently.  Jesus, overcome my typing and my mind….

In days of old, I was a little pink-frilled girl that ran up the stairs into church.  I was rushing into God’s embracing arms, where there was no dark forest harm.  The hall would warm with “hellos” and “how are yous” from fellow brothers and sisters.  Friends shook hands then hung their winter coats in temporary abodes.  The message to come, grabbed hands of the congregation and led them into the sanctuary.  Angel-gold chandeliers gemmed the ceiling that hung over worshippers.  Stained glass formed a rainbow of burgundies over windows.  Like these kaleidoscope windows, I was a kaleidoscope faith girl. Pastor Mellish’s words were believed and stored whole-heartily in my glitter heart.  I was filled with rainbows of faith and unicorns of magic.  I sometimes channel that little girl to remember the inheritance of that astounding faith.  I channel her to remember I may not see God, but His presence is always upon us. 

As an adult, sometimes that astounding faith needs to be sought after again.  If you were a child raised in church, faith colors your world.  It’s easy to pick up hope markers and color happy hearts.  We are taught at a young age the bible verse, “With God, all things are possible”.  We have to remember that holds true blue.  In the darkest jagged caves, faith lanterns flame the way to God’s hope.  Remember, to climb towards the lanterns and light flames of assurance.  Do not wander in the doubtful dark, but live by faith in the light.

For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.” Romans 1:1

I want to have unending absolute in the Lord.  I don’t want to scrounge up my little girl faith from time to time.  Faith should grow in strength when faced with trials.  It should be constant and unwavering.  Remove the faith bow from the pink-frilled girl or bow tie from the blue-button boy and place it in your heart.  Let it ribbon and grow as years go by.  Let’s have faith like a child does. Let’s fight with faith-stance might!  Are you fellow Christians with me? 

Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 1 Timothy 6:12

My dad always said “fight the good fight”.  He meant to fight this world with faith.  Every day, rely on God and His promises.  Set your little girl bow down and take up growing strength in the Lord.  Take off your bow tie and put on your suit of armor.  When you hear you have cancer, still praise God in the chapel of the hospital.  When Satan is firing fiery arrows, put up your bow shield of child-like faith and win the earthly war.

I will always hold to my little girl faith.  As I grow older throughout the years I want that faith to root and endure.  When you are having cloudy trials remember the church stairs you frolicked.  Remember the easiness and comfort of the pews you sat on when you were seven years old.  We are God’s children, forever, and he will forever protect us.  He will always love us unconditionally.  So, I will always have faith in my true Father, because He is the truest Father of our pink bow and blue button hearts.  Have faith and heaven will abound.

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them.  And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.  Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.  Matthew 18:2-5

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Memory Day" Memories

“Memory Day” Memories   August 11 th , 2008 will always be etched in my mind.   Why? Do you ask?   That was the day the leading man in my life went home, my dad, Bob J. O’Banion.   He was my encourager, support system, teacher, boulder, and most importantly, a godly leader.   When you needed a hand, both of his calloused hands were there to hug, shake, and give you a pat on the back.   When you needed Christian advice, his wisdom traveled from his can line to yours.   With the can pressed against your ear, you’d hear, “God is the way, the truth, and the light.”   He was a true definition of a man, a sovereign man.   Integrity made him a humble guide through the Blueridge Mountains, the dry desert, and beyond.   Love lined his face with deep canyon wrinkles.   He sought and dug ditches to provide.   The rooftop was his “day home”.   Sun-tanned skin branded him a “sweat by the brow” toiler.   Family sto...
2 comments
Read more

Seasonal Change

The loss of my dad still hurts, especially when seasons change.  . For those who have lost a loved one, the aching still seems to pulsate through the cracks left upon our hearts.  . Seasonal change can breeze in bronzes of bereavement. It can fall with ambers of aches and molasses colored missing.  . For me, this is true about Autumn. The leaves change once again, and my dad’s memory wafts o’er red-roofed wishing wells. The shallow water collects pennies of “wish you were here” under Birch trees.  . Seasons and holidays blow in memories that patina the past.  . Those who have lost a parent, we think upon childhood memoirs. Instances where we held our mom or dad’s hands, while strolling under amber stained glass etched with maple leaves.  . I think upon harvest memories where the jack-o-lanterns flow, and the crockpot chili steams in bowls.  . My dad walks behind my brother and I as we prance towards candy. In seasonal memory “trick-or-treats” bounce of...
2 comments
Read more

Climb the Rope of Hope

  I have to admit, I’m feeling a dew drop of sadness today. I was supposed to go to a RV show with friends, but decided to stay home. Why did I stay home? I miss my dad. It’s been almost 12 years and I still ache for him. I miss his love and his godly guidance (I’m crying as I write this post). I couldn’t go trudge in and out of memories. I couldn’t go up and down steps of the past. My heart couldn’t bear the weight of camper-sized flashbacks.  When I was growing up, we were a band of gypsies, as my dad called us. We traveled the highway and byways of America in our RV. We’d laugh and play games. We’d have conversations about God’s beauty. We’d bond as a family, as a God braided clan. That bond has made me grieve a hard grief. That closeness clamors my heart with the dad category of love. I don’t grieve on a daily basis anymore. The wounds of loss have healed. The scar is not as prevalent. But, the missing still resides. The missing still dews rosy teardrops.  ...
Post a Comment
Read more