Are you all in or out of God’s Mailbox?

https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1h0rtX6gaL5fPoeyvRlU4IeewLawpDGky

Recently, my husband and I strolled Downtown Thibodaux.

We caught a storybook glimpse of a squirrel eating seeds in a Magnolia tree, then came across a historic mailbox. It “cat-pawed” my Alice in Wonderland curiosity, so I took a picture.

The washed-out color of olden times drenched the mailbox in rust.

I thought to myself...are we all in or out of the mailbox of true Christianity?

Today’s world has become more “open-minded” to veiled sin. They are condoning unstamped letters of promiscuity that have slipped into society.

As Christ followers, we need to think of ourselves as letters that have been sealed with righteousness.

Are you being fully slipped into the mailbox with a boldness or are you being jiggled in halfway, falling to the world?

Are you being stamped with truth or unstamped with a holy vagueness?

Are you being slipped into the mailbox with a fervor or being finicky and falling to dirt-like debauchery.

Is your letter to God being written with obedience or written with fickle foolishness?

You cannot serve two masters. You either fall into God’s mailbox or lay on the ground, being trampled and torn by the world.

No man can serve two masters: for either he. will hate the one, and love the other; or else. he will hold to the one, and despise the other, Yecannot serve God and mammon. - Matthew 6:24

Comments

Look for the Blessing Red Birds, Cherry Blossoms, and Orchids of Beauty in Life

March has marched in with a vengeance of change. In the Trojan horse saddlebags hid a shrewd surprise, Coronavirus. The gray clouds of uncertainty pelted us with “riddle me this” rain. The Trojan horse then galloped over valleys of vividness. Alas, the vivid vex was prevalent over states and pastures. The virus staked our soil with transforming turmoil. Ah, but that riddle rain also brought with it growth of cherry blossoms. They grew tall and strong amidst wrestling weeds of “where’s the joy?” I was covered by those cheerful cherry blossom trees last weekend. My Birthday was March 16th. I must admit, I felt as if one of my unwanted presents was the looming virus. I sensed a thick foreign fog. But, my husband, my Superman, saved my “Birthday”. He pulled me from the dense fog and flew me around our “Metropolis”. We shopped, reminisced, ate cheesecake, and laughed with merriment. It’s as if he set me upon a marriage merry-go-round. Round-and-round we go, on love embellishe...

Pine Heart Roots

On a Friday afternoon, I packed the car and my mom and I drove down Sea Blue Lane. Our destination was Pine Prairie, Louisiana. Wheels rolled down blacktop while music notes rocked and rolled through the Malibu. We sped through Lafayette and entered “Country Land”. As I passed by horses, my eyes lit up with little girl joy, as usual. Cows grazed as clouds speckled their backs. The bayous were fading behind us as pine trees started to grow in their place. The scenery was refreshing, renewing our minds with fresh crawfish waters. We finally arrived at my cousin, Dana’s house and parked upon O’Banion territory. I needed to strip my bark of “stress needles” and regrow peace around my “pine heart”. I was feeling distant from my dad. Year after year, the roughness I once felt on his hand was smoothing. He is branded in my heart, but I needed that brand to be lit under fire ...

Ice Skating Beyond the Wood

I once lived out in the country, beyond the babbling noise of car horns, banshee sirens, and life's marathons. Those years were spent amongst the forest and foxes unseen. Turkeys and bubbly bunnies were our woodland neighbors. Milk cows jingled, jangled across the distant pasture. Tawny deer sidled near the glistening pond, making neighbors with their shadows upon the ice. God's peace nestled on the porch of our quaint "Ponderosa". My brother and I decided to go ice skating one December eve. My dad, a bristly fellow, took up shovel and headed to our pond "beyond the wood". He heaved and hoed, shoveling snow off the "present wrapped" ice. Snow tipped oak branches where robins once perched. Flurries floated, settling upon my hard-working dad. My brother and I dressed as warm as puffy Eskimos. We trudged and nudged through the white, pure land. Hopping Jacque Cousteau (my dog), followed our ...

Search This Blog