Tag Archives: Jesus

“All of Business is About Relationships”

Some messages are meant to be heard. This one poured out of me, and I wanted to share it with you in my own voice. May it meet you where you are ~

As I journey along the way, I have come to realize that I need you. I learn, grow, and I am encouraged by you! You see, there was a period when I was hurting so much I didn’t have time for you. I was too wrapped up in my own little sad state of affairs to consider you. And why not? I was led to believe that I was insignificant, damaged goods, a toss-away. In my bleeding heart, what could I have contributed to you anyway? Why would anyone listen to anything I had to offer? Inside, I was frail, weak, and torn. I felt lonely. I was a mess!

But that was then. This is now: I thrive in hearing you say that I’ve helped you. I am comforted knowing I have made a difference. It could be through a deed—a spoken word, a smile, a written word, or a touch.

Thank you for allowing me to be me and for going on this incredible journey with me. You walked with me in my brokenness and pain. You rooted for me during my shame. You cheered for me because I emerged sane!

I have an endless hope, not a hopeless end!

My messes became my message. My life of peril turned into a life of promise. Through it all, I have gained an astonishing insight. I know that I’m somebody. I have a bright future. I have a purpose. I am needed and loved.

God hasn’t given up on you, so don’t you dare give up on Him. God loves you, and I do, too.

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For in Him we live, and move, and have our being.”

Acts 17:28


If this message spoke to you, I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment, share it with a friend, or let me know how you’re finding hope in your own journey. God bless!

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It’s Friday

It did not end at the cross!

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Alabaster Box

Lyrics

The room grew still as she made her way to Jesus
She stumbles through the tears that made her blind
She felt such pain, some spoke in anger
Heard folks whisper, “There’s no place here for her kind”
Still on she came through the shame that flushed her face
Until at last, she knelt before His feet
And though she spoke no words, everything she said was heard
As she poured her love for the Master, from her box of alabaster

So I’ve come to pour my praise on Him
Like oil from Mary’s alabaster box
So don’t be angry if I wash His feet with my tears
And I dry them with my hair, hmm
‘Cause you weren’t there the night He found me
You did not feel what I felt
When He wrapped His love all around me and
You don’t know the cost, not of this oil
In my alabaster box

No one knows what you’ve been through
I can’t forget the way life used to be
‘Cause I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound
And I spent my days, poured my life without measure
Into a little treasure box I’d thought I’d found
Until the day when Jesus came to me
And healed my soul with the wonder of His touch
So now I’m giving back to Him all the praise He’s worthy of
I’ve been forgiven and that’s why
I love Him so much

So I’ve come to pour my praise on Him
Like oil from Mary’s alabaster box (Mary’s alabaster box)
So don’t be angry if I wash His feet with my tears
And dry them with my hair
You weren’t there the night Jesus found me
You did not feel what I felt
When He wrapped His loving arms around me and
You don’t know the, you don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know (Jesus was there)
You don’t know the, you don’t know, you don’t know, you don’t know
You don’t know the cost of the oil
In my alabaster box (oh)

Come on let’s worship Him
Come on and give Him the glory (hallelujah)

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It’s Friday…!

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It’s Friday but Sunday’s Coming

https://youtu.be/cikenKl92Og

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March 30, 2018 · 5:13 AM

Pathway to Tears

I consider myself a tough cookie. After all, aren’t I a survivor? I’ve survived a few hard knocks along life’s path: A broken home by age three, followed by poverty, hunger, homelessness, alcoholism, neglect, loss of a sibling at age nine, two near-drowning incidents, in a car wreck, juvenile detention home, taunting, brawls, racism, alternative schooling, marriage to a ruthless man twice my age, bearing four children by the time I was twenty-two—three by cesarean—physical abuse, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, betrayal, hopelessness, despair, rejection, abandonment, being shot at (he missed), divorce, single-parenting …

BUT God!

Howbeit, there is a softer side to me as well. This thing called “tears”. A family member has even called me sentimental. I have been known to cry after losing a beloved pet, even an insect (hey, they make pets too, at least they did for me when I was a child). I recently cried when my husband surprised me with flowers after having a taxing day. I cried – or blubbered rather – after shooting my first deer. I may cry during weddings, engrossed in a book, listen to a song, or when watching a movie. I especially cry when I hear a newborn’s first cry, whether in real life or on TV, I can’t help it, the tears flow. I sometimes cry while laughing at something funny, opening up presents, when saying goodbye, praying, or worshiping and singing in church. Seeing majestic mountains, colorful rainbows, the stillness of the ocean, a fluffy kitten, or a hummingbird nestling nearby can make me cry. I even cried when I heard my grandchild call me “Mimi” for the first time. And yes, at times I cry when I’m hurt, scared, tired, or angry.

But I don’t want you to know that. Because I am tough. Not weak. Remember?

Now I’m not much of a horse person, but I know enough to know that a horse is full of grace and strength with every muscle, tendon, and ligament working in unison to support a rider at galloping speed. Yet, that same powerful, majestic horse is controlled by a bit in its mouth and will move in the direction the rider wants to go.

When I read about Moses, he was the meekest man who walked the earth. When I read about Jesus, He was all-powerful, yet kept that power in check. His meekness was not a weakness.

So, I say: It’s okay. It’s okay to let your guard down at times and reveal your softer, sensitive self. It doesn’t mean you’re a softy, a weakling, or a pushover. Power under control means self-control, and that is a virtue. After all, we are human with God-given emotions. Besides, God. Bottles. Our. Tears.

And because God loves us so much, I would venture to say:

Sometimes God cries.

Thank you, Lord, for loving me for me.

© M.A. Perez 2017, All Rights Reserved

bottled tears

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Ode to a Mother’s Heart

There’ve been much written about the making of “Son of God,” and those behind the scenes producing it.  Without getting into all that, I will share what moved me in watching this movie.

I felt the significance when Jesus put His hand out toward Barabbas and stopped him dead in his tracks. I can’t say that I’ve ever been touched by an angel before, but I do believe that I have been touched by the Hand of God in my lifetime. Enough to stop me in my tracks. Make me look heavenward. And to examine me.

Son Of God movie - pic 19I focused on Mary and what she must have felt in all she’d gone through. She knew her son had a purpose and a mission to fulfill. Yet, she couldn’t have known the price it would take and all that she would witness along the way. How does a mother not yearn for her child to be safe? Don’t weep when they are hurt? Not grieve when they are lost? A mother will always want to protect her child from pain, wipe the tears, bear the blows, and heal the wounds. Even when they’re adults.

I cried when Mary reached out to Jesus, wanting, needing, and yearning to hold Him close. Yet she could not. It was not meant to be. His time had come. And she knew like she’d never known before as she watched Him embracing the cross.Cross

I marveled at how her resolve strengthened as she accepted the will of God regarding Jesus all the way to the cross. I imagined how hard it must have been for a mother to do. My favorite scene in this movie was Mary touching Jesus, with the cross between them, both of them holding it. Not necessarily that Mary had anything to do with His mission, but that she embraced God’s plan for His life. And death.

Letting go is not always easy, but it is necessary.

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In this world, we all have our crosses to bear. Jesus said, “Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple.” Luke 14:27.  Not an easy feat. The cross is heavy, but it never outweighs His grace. I’m so thankful for the cross and for God making all things new.

Mothers, embrace your children today and don’t ever stop praying for them.

© M.A. Perez 2014, All Rights Reserved

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March 9, 2014 · 4:23 PM

This Thing Called Tears

I consider myself a tough cookie. After all, aren’t I a survivor? I’ve survived some hard times: A broken home by age three, followed by poverty, hunger, homelessness, alcoholism, neglect, loss of a sibling at age nine, two near-drowning incidents, a car wreck, juvenile detention home, taunting, brawls, racism, alternative schooling, marriage to a ruthless man twice my age, bearing four children by the time I was twenty-two—three by cesarean—physical abuse, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, betrayal, hopelessness, despair, rejection, abandonment, being shot at (he missed), divorce, single-parenting, grieving over the loss of dear loved ones  …

BUT God!

However, there is a softer side to me as well. This thing called tears. Yes, a family member has even called me sentimental. I have been known to cry after losing a pet, even an insect. I cried when I shot my first deer. I may cry when reading a book, during a dance, listening to a song, attending a wedding, or while watching a movie. I especially cry when I hear a newborn’s first cry, whether in real life or on TV. I can’t help it; the tears flow. I sometimes cry when opening presents, saying goodbye, being pleasantly surprised, laughing, praying, or worshipping in church. Seeing mountains, rainbows, the ocean, a kitten, or a hummingbird can make me cry. I cried when I heard my grandchild call me “Mimi” for the first time. And at times, I cry when I’m hurt, scared, tired, or angry.

But I don’t want you to know that. I am tough. Not weak. Remember?

Now I’m not much of a horse person, but I know enough to know that a horse is full of grace and strength with every muscle, tendon, and ligament working in unison to support a rider at galloping speed. Yet, that same powerful, majestic horse is controlled by a bit in its mouth and will move in the direction the rider wants.

When I read about Moses, I was struck by the fact that he was described as the meekest man who walked the earth. When I read about Jesus, I see that He was all-powerful yet kept that power in check. His meekness was not a weakness.

So, I say: It’s okay to let our guard down at times and reveal our softer, sensitive selves. It doesn’t mean we’re a softy, a weakling, or a pushover. Power under control means self-control, and that is a virtue. After all, we are human with God-given emotions. Besides, God bottles our tears.

And because God loves us so much, I would venture to say: Sometimes God cries.

© M.A. Perez 2013, All Rights Reserved

tears

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