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Monday, November 3, 2014
God is Doing Awesome Things in Nepal Through the John 3:16 Marketing Network
Friday, October 31, 2014
A Taste of Friday First Chapters with He Who Has An Ear by Laura J Davis
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ABOUT THE BOOK: More than
two thousand years ago the Apostle John had a vision he received from the Lord.
He was told to write seven letters to the churches of Asia Minor. Out of the
seven churches only two received commendation from the Lord. The rest were
letters of warning.
Compromise and
disobedience, combined with a lack of knowledge of the Word of God, has placed
the 21st century church in a precarious situation. The letters to the seven
churches are a message for this generation during the last days. He who has an
ear will know what to do and act accordingly.
Who
the Seven Churches of Revelation are Today
By
Laura Davis
1.
Who Are the Seven Angels?
|
W
|
ho or what are the seven churches of
Revelation? Are they still in the world today? Were the seven churches in Asia
Minor real churches or do they represent a type of church (i.e.: Catholic,
Baptist, Pentecostal, etc.)? Are the warnings relevant to this generation? Are
they for each of us as individuals? As we look carefully through the letters of
Revelation, we will discover the answer to all these questions and more.
But before we can get
to any of the letters, we must determine who the angels were that the letters
were written to. It has been suggested that the angels represented the head or
bishop of each church. Others suggest the angels were actual celestial beings
that stood guard over these churches. First, let’s look at the word in both
Hebrew and Greek.
Angel in Hebrew is Malack and means messenger. Angel in
Greek is angelos and also means
messenger. So, what kind of messages do angels bring?
1.
They bring
good news (Luke 2:8-14; Luke 1:26-38).
2.
They also
bring bad news (Genesis 19:15).
3.
They
communicate God’s will to men. (They helped reveal the law to Moses [Acts
7:52-53] and served as the carriers for much of the material in Daniel and
Revelation).[i]
4.
They give
instructions and act as guides (Matthew 1:20-21; Acts 8:26; Acts 10:1-8).
5.
They
strengthen and encourage God’s people (Matthew 4:11; Acts 5:19-20; Acts
27:23-25).
The most important thing about angels is that they continually praise
God and carry out His commands. They ascend and descend to earth frequently.
(John 1:51; Genesis 28:12; Revelation 7:2). We cannot see them, but they are
here watching over us for God and, I assume, reporting back to Him on how we
are doing (Job 1:6).
Besides being messengers for God, angels have different jobs. For
example:
·
God has used
angels to provide for physical needs such as food for Hagar (Genesis 21:17-20),
Elijah (1 Kings 19:6), and Christ after His temptation (Matthew 4:11).[ii]
·
They act as
protectors (Daniel 3-6; Matthew 2:13).
·
They can
deliver people from danger. They released the apostles from prison in Acts 5
and did the same for Peter in Acts 12.
·
They care
for God’s people at the moment of their death (Luke 16:22).
There are
also different types of angels:
- Cherubim (Ezekiel 1)*
- Seraphim (Isaiah 6)
- Archangels—We know of two, Michael (Daniel
10:13; Jude 9) and Gabriel (Daniel 9:21; Luke 1:19; 26).
*For the
record, there is nothing in the Scriptures to indicate cherubim are cute little
babies. In fact, the reaction of most people who saw angels was to fall down in
fear, not reach out and say, “Coochie-coo!” The cherubs you see on Valentine’s
Day cards and at Christmas are from the minds of their human creators.
Before the
edict was given to write to the churches, John saw the following in his vision
in Revelation 1:12-16:
I turned around to
see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden
lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone like a son of man dressed in a
robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. The
hair on his head was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like
blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was
like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and
coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the
sun shining in all its brilliance.
It’s no
wonder that, in the next verse, John “fell at his feet as though dead.” But
Jesus touched him and said not to be afraid and then in verses 19-20 He said, “Write, therefore, what you have seen, what
is now and what will take place later. The mystery of the seven stars that you
saw in my right hand and of the seven golden lampstands is this: The seven
stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the
seven churches.”
To be clear,
John wrote about the past, the present, and the future. Then Jesus explained
the mystery of the seven stars and the seven golden lampstands. The seven stars
are the angels of the seven churches and the lampstands are the seven churches.
While the
appearance of angels was usually frightening enough to make people fall to the
ground, these supernatural beings sometimes took on human form. (In Genesis 18,
Abraham welcomed three visitors who appeared as men.)
According to
Strong’s Concordance, the word for
messenger and angel were used interchangeably. For example, in Malachi 2:7 we
read, “For the lips of a priest ought to
preserve knowledge, because he is the messenger
of the Lord Almighty and people seek instruction from his mouth.”
Again, the
Hebrew word for angel, Malak, means
messenger. It should be no surprise to learn that the word messenger in Hebrew is also Malak. If we read the verse above with that in mind, we get, “For the lips of a priest ought to preserve
knowledge, because he is the angel of
the Lord Almighty and people seek instruction from his mouth.”
Does that
mean our pastors are angels? Not in the real sense of an angel, no. However, it
does reveal how important God considers those who bring messages from Him,
either through His Word or through prophecy. People, therefore, should not be
so quick to say, “I have a message from the Lord,” unless they are very sure it
is the Lord who is sending it and it lines up with the Bible.
While it is
possible that each of the seven angels referred to in Revelation are actual
angels disguised as humans, I think it is more plausible that they are the
elders of the churches. It would make no sense for John to write letters and
send them to real angels. For that matter, why would Jesus have John write
everything down when the angels were always before Him in heaven?
In addition,
we must also remember that John was writing to real churches during his era.
The fact that these letters have been preserved for us is just a bonus. No, it
makes more sense that the angels are the messengers in the church who will read
the letters aloud to the congregations and thereby, bring forth the message
from God.
Now, here is
where confusion sets in. After the apostles died, other men who had known them
took up the reins to keep the church functioning. Catholic tradition suggests
there was a bishop for each church. For example, Ignatius was the bishop of
Antioch; Polycarp was the bishop of Smyrna; Timothy was the bishop of Ephesus;
and so on. However, there is no mention in the Bible that Timothy was appointed
as a bishop, not by Paul or anyone else. In fact, there are no scriptural
references that say each church should have one man as a bishop. The truth is,
the role of a bishop over the church did not start until at least 154 A.D.,
more than fifty years after the Apostle John died. That’s plenty of time for
wrong doctrine to enter the church.
Therefore,
the angels referenced in the letters to the seven churches could not be bishops
because one bishop for each church did not exist at the time the Apostle John
wrote Revelation. And since most churches today don’t have bishops in the
formal sense like the Catholic Church, how do these letters relate to us? Who
are the bishops of the church today? We’ll discuss that in the next chapter.
To
purchase He Who Has an Ear visit www.tinyurl.HeWhoHasanEar
[i] Dr. John Bechtle, “What is the Job Description for an Angel?” Christian Answers Network Website, URL http://christiananswers.net/q-acb/acb-t005.html#9
[ii] Dr. John Bechtle, “What is the Job Description for an Angel?” Christian Answers Network Website, URL
http://christiananswers.net/q-acb/acb-t005.html#9
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Laura J. Davis is
a former singer/songwriter who took to
You can contact Laura
through her website at www.laurajdavis.com and join her for a
Bible Study at www.believersbiblestudy.com.
Available through
Amazon on Kindle at http://tinyurl.com/qzbygms and in
paperback at http://tinyurl.com/q5c38u6.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Friday, October 24, 2014
The Gift of Books to the Orphans of Nepal
Orphans of Nepal receive books from #John316author s @AuthorMRoth pic.twitter.com/MW05DhxX9q
— Lorilyn Roberts (@LorilynRoberts) October 24, 2014
Today was the most moving yet. We spent a couple of hours reading with the children.
I was amazed at how well they read English, their sweet spirit, and their excitement of receiving the books.
They hung on every word as I shared with them how I received most of the books, through the generosity of John 3:16 authors.
I have many more pictures and videos to share. Please be sure to follow the blog so you don't miss future posts on this amazing trip to the ends of the earth.
A Taste of Friday First Chapters Dead Dreams by Emma Right
About the Book:
When eighteen-year-old
Brie O’Mara accepted Sarah McIntyre into her life to be her roommate, she
entertained only the best of hopes for herself. Despite her long work hours and
tedious jobs, Brie was working on saving for a better future. Best of all, Sarah
was an heiress and more than generous with her money. Brie was about to be the
envy of everyone she knew. Her dreams of making something of her life, of going
to acting school, maybe even of rekindling her friendship with her high school
sweetheart, might just come true. What more could she hope for? Especially
since Sarah was more than willing to share her fortune. Or did she hide an
ulterior motive behind promising big dreams to Brie?
Dead Dreams, Book 1, a
contemporary young adult thriller and mystery is a Gold award winner in
Readers’ Favorite, young adult mystery category.
Dead Dreams, Book 1,
the suspense and mystery continues in Gone Missing (Dead Dreams Book 2)
Buy on Amazon
First chapter
Prologue
They say each dead
body, a human corpse, has a scent all of its own, a sweet-sour smell. A cadaver
dog picks up the odor as clearly as a mother recognizes a photo of her child.
Of course, I wouldn’t know, for I am no dog. I might as well have been, the way
I’d stooped to yield to my basic instincts. My mind wandered to her, what her
unique smell would be when, and if, they ever were to find her.
vvv
After what
happened, I decided to write out the events that led to that day, and details,
in case I’d missed something, or might need it for defense, or in case they
found me dead. My relatives might need to piece together the things that had
spiraled out of control, if they wanted to put me to rest, to forget me
altogether. That would be least painful for them. I nodded to myself as I sat
in the car. I thought of my most favorite girl in the world: Lilly. At least
Lilly’d have my dog, Holly, and Rosco, my teddy, to remember me by.
My friends used to call
me Brie, short for Brianna. But, I could hardly count anyone a friend any more.
I’d have to resort to back-watching if I wanted to survive.
Chapter One
It started on a warm
April afternoon. Gusts of wind blew against the oak tree right outside my
kitchen balcony, in my tiny apartment in Atherton, California. Sometimes the
branches that touched the side of the building made scraping noises. The yellow
huckleberry flowers twining their way across my apartment balcony infused the
air with sweetness.
My mother had insisted,
as was her tendency on most things, I take the pot of wild huckleberry,
her housewarming gift, to my new two-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t really new,
just new to me, as was the entire experience of living separately, away from my
family, and the prospect of having a roommate, someone who could be a best
friend, something I’d dreamed of since I finished high school and debuted into
adulthood.
“Wait for me by the
curb,” my mother said, her voice blaring from the phone even though I didn’t
set her on speaker. “You need to eat better.” Her usual punctuation at the end
of her orders.
So, I skipped down
three flights of steps and headed toward the side of the apartment building to
await my mother’s gift of the evening, salad in an á la chicken style, her
insistent recipe to cure me of bad eating habits. At least it wasn’t chicken
soup double-boiled till the bones melted, I consoled myself.
I hadn’t waited long
when a vehicle careened round the corner. I heard it first, that high-pitched
screech of brakes wearing thin when the driver rammed his foot against it. From
the corner of my eye, even before I turned to face it, I saw the blue truck. It
rounded the bend where Emerson Street met Ravenswood, tottered before it
righted itself and headed straight at me.
I took three steps
back, fell and scrambled to get back up as the vehicle like a giant bullet
struck the sidewalk I had only seconds ago stood on. The driver must have lost
control, but when he hit the sidewalk it slowed the vehicle enough so he could
bridle his speed and manage the truck as he continued to careen down the
street.
My mother arrived a
half minute later but she had seen it all. Like superwoman, she leaped out of
her twenty-year-old Mercedes and rushed toward me, all breathless and blonde
hair disheveled.
“Are you all right?”
She reached out to help me up.
“Yes, yes,” I said,
brushing the dirt off my yoga pants.
“Crazy driver. Brie, I
just don’t know about this business of you staying alone here like this.” She
walked back to her white Mercedes, leaned in the open window, and brought out a
casserole dish piled high with something green. Make that several shades of
green.
I followed her,
admittedly winded. “Seriously, Mom. It’s just one of those things. Mad drivers
could happen anywhere I live.”
She gave me no end of
grief as to what a bad idea it was for me to live alone like this even though
she knew I was going to get a roommate.
“Mom, stop worrying,” I
said.
“You’re asking me to
stop being your mother, I hope you realize this.”
“I’ll find someone
dependable by the end of the week, I promise.” No way I was going back to live
at home. Not that I came from a bad home environment. But I had my reasons.
I had advertised on
Craig’s List, despite my mother’s protests that only scum would answer “those
kinds of ads.”
Perhaps there was some
truth to Mother’s biases, but I wouldn’t exactly call Sarah McIntyre scum. If
she was, what would that make me?
Sarah’s father had
inherited the family “coal” money. Their ancestors had emigrated from Scotland
(where else, with a name like McIntyre, right?) in the early 1800s and bought
an entire mountain (I kid you not) in West Virginia. It was a one-hit wonder in
that the mountain hid a coal fortune under it, and hence the McIntyre Coal
Rights Company was born. This was the McIntyre claim to wealth, and also a
source of remorse and guilt for Sarah, for supposedly dozens of miners working
for them had lost their lives due to the business, most to lung cancer or black
lung, as it was commonly called. Hazards of the occupation.
And then there were
cave-ins, which presented another set of drama altogether, Sarah said.
I sat across from her,
the coffee table between us, in the small living room during our first meeting.
“So, that’s why you’re not on talking terms with your family? Because of abuses
of the coal company? ” I asked.
We sipped hot cocoa and
sat cross-legged in the crammed living room, which also doubled as the dining
space. I’d never interviewed anyone before, although I’d read tips on the
Internet.
“I just don’t want to
be reminded anymore,” she said, twirling her dark ringlets round and round on
her pointer finger.
“But, it’s not entirely
your dad’s fault those people died of lung problems.”
“I guess, but I just
want to get away, you understand? Anyway, I’m almost twenty-one now. That’s
three years too late for moving out and establishing my own space.” She took
tiny sips of the cocoa, both hands cupping the mug as if she were cold.
I walked to the
thermostat and upped the temperature. A slight draft still stole in from a gap in
the balcony sliding door I always kept open a crack to let the air circulate.
“So, your family’s okay
with you living here? In California? In this apartment that’s probably smaller
than your bathroom? With a stranger?”
“First off, it’s none
of their business. Secondly, you and I won’t stay strangers.” Sarah
flashed me a grin. “Besides, I’m tired of big houses with too many rooms to get
lost in. And, have you lived in West Virginia?”
I shook my head. The
farthest I’d been was Nevada when we went for our family annual ski vacation.
“I heard it’s pretty.”
“If you like hot, humid
summers and bitter cold winters. So, do I pass? As a roommate?”
She looked about at the
ceiling. I wondered if she noticed the dark web in the corner and the lack of
cornices and crown moldings. I was sure I smelled mold in the living room, too.
But I wasn’t in a position to choose. Sarah was.
“As long as you’re not
a psychopath and can pay rent.” I returned her smile.
“I don’t know about the
psychopath part.” She shrugged and displayed her white, evenly-spaced teeth.
“But here’s my bank account.” She tossed me a navy blue booklet with gilded
edges and with golden words “Bank of America” on the cover.
I fumbled as I caught
it and was unsure what to do. “Should I peek?”
“Go on.” She gestured,
flicking her fingers at me as if I were a stray cat afraid to take a morsel of
her offering.
“No secrets. I can well
afford to pay rent. And, I’m a stable individual.”
I flipped the first few
pages and saw the numerous transactions in lumps my parents, who were by no
means poor, would have gasped at. The last page registered the numbers: under
deposits, $38,000. My eyes scanned the row of numbers and realized that the sum
$38,000 came up every sixth of the month.
My mouth must have been
open for she said, “You can stop gawking. It’s only my trust fund. It comes to
me regardless of where I am, or where I stay. So, do I make the cut?”
I handed the bank book
back. We discussed the house rules: no smoking; no drugs, and that included
pot; no boyfriend sleepovers or wild parties, which was a clause in my
landlord’s lease; and Sarah was to hand me her share of the rent, a mere $800,
on the twenty-eighth of every month, since I was the main renter and she the
sub-letter.
She didn’t want
anything down on paper—no checks, no contracts, and no way of tracing things
back to her, she’d stressed a few times.
She fished in her Louis
Vuitton and handed me a brown paper bag, the kind kids carry their school
lunches in. I peeked inside and took out a stash of what looked like a wad of
papers bundled together with a rubber band. Her three-month share of the
deposit, a total of twenty-four crisp hundred-dollar bills. They had that
distinct new-bank-notes-smell that spoke of luxury.
I gulped down my hot
chocolate. “Why all the secrecy? I hope your parents will at least know your
address.” I said as I wrapped up the interview. I could understand not wanting
her parents breathing down her neck, but as long as they didn’t insist on
posting a guard at the door, what was the harm of them knowing where she lived?
Sarah glanced about the
room as if afraid the neighbors might have their ears pinned to the walls,
listening.
She leaned forward and,
her face expressionless, said softly, “My parents are dead.”
Author Bio:
Award winning author
and copywriter, Emma Right, is a happy wife and homeschool mother of five
living in the Pacific West Coast. Besides running a busy home, and looking
after too many pets, she also writes stories—when she is not behind the wheel
driving her children for various activities. Her books have won literary
awards. She hopes her stories will help empower young adults and children, and
instil the love of learning and reading. Ms. Right worked as a copywriter and
has won national and international advertising awards, including the
prestigious Clio. Learn more about Emma Right and her books at emmaright.comFriday, October 17, 2014
A Taste of Friday with Tracy Krauss and NEIGHBORS
NEIGHBORS – A Series
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Forward
I love people watching. Airports,
waiting rooms, shopping malls –these are ripe fields for the student of human
nature. It was during one of these ‘research’ sessions that I started a list of
possible characters that might make an appearance in one of my novels. As I
began to flesh some of these people out, it dawned on me that I had an entire
community. What if they lived in the same neighbourhood, or even an apartment
building, where they could interact? I soon realized that several characters
had their own unique story to tell, perhaps not long enough for a full-length
novel, but perfect for a series. Thus NEIGHBORS took shape. I hope you enjoy
meeting this varied, sometimes quirky, cast. Welcome to the neighborhood.
NEIGHBORS - Volume 1 - New in the
Neighborhood
Lester Tibbett has to leave his farm in
Southern Alberta for the big city. It means starting over in an unfamiliar
environment - a heavy burden for the guardian of a teenage sister full of
angst. The apartment complex to which they relocate is a far cry from their
spacious farmhouse and offers little anonymity for a man used to doing things
his own way. During the process, he pushes his own loneliness aside in favor of
looking after his sister. As Lester struggles to find a church that will meet
both their spiritual needs, he quickly learns that neighbors come in many
forms, some of them quite meddlesome. Still, he is happy to accept help from an
overtly friendly neighbor named Jed who also happens to work for the same
construction company. The two soon become friends, despite Jed’s habit of trying
to set Lester up with every available single female, and end up frequenting a
local pub where Lester is surprised to discover an ‘old school’ mechanical bull
just waiting to be ridden. The former rodeo cowboy in him rises up, but not
before he meets a mysterious woman who is out of his reach.
NEIGHBORS – Volume 2 – Stuck In the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 3 – Sneaking Around the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 4 – Working the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 5 – Back In the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 6 – Navigating the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 7 – Skeletons In the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 8 – Leaving the
Neighborhood
NEIGHBORS – Volume 9 – There Goes the
Neighborhood
Tracy Krauss is a multi-published author,
playwright, artist and teacher, with several best selling and award winning
novels to her credit. Originally from a small prairie town, Tracy received her
Bachelor’s Degree from the University of Saskatchewan with majors in Art, and
minors in History and English. Apart from her many creative pursuits, she
directs an amateur theater group and leads worship at her local church. She and
her husband, an ordained minister, have lived in many remote and unique places
in Canada's north, and currently live in northern British Columbia. For more
visit her website: http://tracykrauss.com
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