He has His Father's eyes

   She doubled over in pain, her hand pushed into her lower back.
   'Please, Mary. Ride on the donkey. If you keep walking you'll have the baby beside the road.'
   'The donkey's back is so hard.'
   Joseph rummaged in his bag and pulled out another coat. Folding it, he placed it on the donkey's back and lifted his wife. 'I'll walk beside you. Lean on me, but lets keep moving.'
   Can you imagine trying to sit on a donkey when in the early stages of labour? I guess the discomfort took her mind off the baby. She must have had so many questions.
   Her baby was a boy, she was sure of that. But what would the son of God look like? Would he look like her or like his Father? And what did his Father look like? She had never seen God. Yes, the angel said God would overshadow her and she would become pregnant, but my guess is she didn't even know when that had happened, much less get a glimpse of the baby's Father.
   So when the Son of God emerged from her womb into the smelly stable, like any mother, she must have grabbed him and studied him carefully. Not to count fingers and toes, but to see...to see God. Mary was the first person to come face to face with God. I can imagine her gazing with awe and wonder. 
   And then he opened His eyes. She connected with the King of Kings, not body to body but soul to soul, spirit to Spirit. It took her breathe away.
   'He has His Father's eyes.' 
   Joseph looked over her shoulder at the baby. 'What do you mean?'
   'His eyes. They are so deep, pure, clear. It's like he looked into my very heart and I could see into His heart. Never before have I seen such love. Oh, He is the Son of God!'
   Her baby squirmed and she lifted him to her breast. He latched onto her nipple and sucked. 'He loves me, Joseph. I saw it in His eyes. He loves me.'
   'The angel told me that he would save the people from their sins.' Joseph stroked the cheek of the feeding infant. 'I guess He loves everyone, Mary, everyone.'
   The moment was broken by a slight tap on the wall of the stable. 'There He is. Just as the angels said.' The shepherds were panting hard. 'Sorry Ma'am, we ran all the way. Did you know your baby is the Messiah?'
   Baby Jesus stirred and opened His eyes.
   Mary pulled back the cloths so the shepherds could see. 'I know. Look. He has His Father's eye's - eyes of love.'

Tiny Aerodynamic Flying Machines

   Flicking my clean white sheets over my guest bed I noticed something dark. A feather had attached itself to my washing. Picking it off, I dropped it in the waste paper basket. Simple, right? No! First it didn't want to leave my finger and then instead of dropping into the bin it decided to float down. Gently, slowly and indirectly. It eventually hit the floor but missed the bin.
   Fascinating. The aerodynamics of one single feather. No wonder a bird flies so effortlessly. Each spread wing is covered with hundreds of these little flying machines, who individually want to float and never touch the ground.
   Have you ever watched a feather fall from the sky, a bird-less sky, and wonder where it came from? Well now we know! The bird, after discarded its feather, has flown a kilometre while the little feather has floated and danced its way towards the ground.
   Recently, while walking, I observed a spinning top falling to the road in front of me. Well, it looked like a spinning top. It had a pointy end and was turning quickly as it dropped from the sky. Yes, it was a feather. Not one of the soft fluffy ones, but a strong, slender one. It dropped, shaft first, and turned on its own axis as it fell. Then another fell right in front of me.
   Again I stand in awe at the wonder of creation, and its creator. Each bird created with different styled and shaped aerodynamic feathers covering their whole body!

    And the colours! I've picked up so many that have a dab of blue here and then a slash of pink, or a spot of brown, or even bright aqua. Then there are the soft fluffy bits at the end of each feather that keep the bird's body cool and dry, like waterproof pyjamas incorporated into the flying suit. Ah, yes. Did I say that my God is exceedingly clever!
   So today I worship Him, for I, too am fearfully and wonderfully made, even if I can't fly! What makes you stop in awe, as we delight in this wonderful world we live in?

I want what I want and I want it now!

   She stood to her full height. 'I don't want my birthday to be 'next', and I don't want it to be 'soon'.' She glared at me, tossing her long blonde hair.
   I was confused.  'When do you want your birthday to be, Honey?'
   I knew when her birthday was, and I also knew the day wouldn't be changing to suit her, but I find a little active listening works much better than an argument.
   'I want it to be NOW!'
   'Why do you want it now?'
   'Cause it Braydens' birthday tomorrow and Shi's the next day.' She struggling to hold back the tears. 'I want it to be mine.'
   I could sympathise with her. Waiting is hard to do, for anyone, especially for a little girl who is about to turn five.
   I have a T-shirt that says "I want what I want and I want it now!" I found it in a local store the day before I was preaching on revival. It perfectly summed up my sermon and my emotions.
   A couple of weeks ago, while preaching on breakthrough I nailed my colours to the wall. 'I'm sick of prophetic words telling me that revival is coming to South East Queensland. I don't want to hear any more.'
   I want what I want and I want it now. I've waited long enough. I've heard enough promises. We have the word of God. I want action and I want it NOW.
   About six years ago, I attended a conference where Apostle Barbara Yoder was speaking. What an inspiring woman of God.
   Her eyes challenged us from the platform. 'How many more generations are you going to allow to pass, before you Aussies fulfil Smith Wiggleworth's prophetic words over this nation. Will you be generation that rises up and makes revival happen in Australia.'
   I was challenged. Until that revelation, I was waiting passively to see what God was going to do. Since then I've been hungry - hungry for a mighty move of God. What am I going to do about it? I've given the rest of my life to God for revival.
   Why do I want revival? Same reason as Miss 'Soon to be Five' wants a birthday. Excitement, action and most of all - presents!

   Why do I expect revival to bring me presents? What wonderful surprises am I waiting for? I want to see people set free! Free from the bondage of addiction, hopelessness  depression, grief and sickness. I want to see broken families restored, cancer wards closed, gambling cease, prostitutes released and prisoner set free. No, I'm not dreaming the impossible. The power of God and the presence of Jesus, in the midst of us, will change people's hearts, break their anger and selfishness and renew our nation.    
   History confirms it. Prophecy predicts it. I expect it.

   As I said, 'I don't want revival 'next' or 'soon'. I want it NOW.'

The Bud Takes a Risk

I love the quote, by Anais Nin

“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

It caused me to think ….

When a bud is closed tight, it is protected from the wind and rain.  Its delicate petals and stamens are enclosed, safe from harm, bundled up tight and secure. But the pressure is building!  Some thing is pushing them, one against the other and gossip is that at the top of the bud, the protective case has split and some of the petals are being pushed out!

Some of the petals shimmered in excitement at the prospect of being free, of being able to move as they wished, of greeting the ‘Sun’ that they had heard so much about.  Others were more cautious – fearing unnecessary change!  Now the report had come back from the top petals that the sun was dulled, and they were being battered by the wind.  They were trying to get back in the bud – and all that was doing was increasing the split – and other petals were exposed.

One big petal was very quiet in all the ensuing discussion!  He knew he was close to the Sun now. He had waited so long! He pushed up and out with all his might.  He could see the split just above him now! 

He determined to try again. ‘I must get a glimpse!’  So he focussed and tried again.  He pushed and pushed and the pressure was too much for the bud and it split down the side.  The petal turned his eyes outward.  What wonder! What fresh air!  The smells! The perfume!  The possibilities!  The freedom!

 “It is wonderful, just wonderful!” He yelled to the petals behind him, Urging the to follow.  “Come on!  Let’s show the world how beautiful we are!”

“But, the risk!” The other petals weren’t sure. “Let’s stay here – it is more comfortable now the bud is split!”

Just then a little voice was heard outside.  “Daddy, come quick.  The bud is opening!!  Look at the beautiful colour!”  

“Can you smell the perfume?”

“No, Daddy, no smell!”

 “You will be able to smell it when all the petals are open.  It will be wonderful.”

The petals were all quiet for a few moments.  Suddenly they understood!  To bloom would eventually cost them everything.  But to bloom is what they were created for.  To remain a bud and die on the vine was unthinkable.  

“We must bloom.  We must all push together.  We must be the best, most attractive bloom.  Then the bees will come and sup with us, and though we die we will actually live forever!”

PS  A week later a satisfied petal lay under the vine, blown against the fence.  His colour was fading, but his perfume was still strong.  They had done well.  The little girl had admired them everyday – but more importantly they had opened themselves completely to the Sun – and the bees had come.  And as he looked up to the vine, even now he could see the swelling, just below the last few petals, that spoke of fruit, with its promise of new life.  Near him on the ground was a bud – it had never opened itself to the Sun.  The vine had dropped it to the ground as useless.  How sad to have never experienced the Sun – to never have reached fulfilment!  How thankful he was that the big petal had the vision and courage to lead them out!

Recovering a lost heirloom ring

   I lost my husband's grandmother's engagement ring about ten days ago. I looked at my hand and it wasn't there. 
   I berated myself for being so careless. When I had dressed that morning my fingers seemed swollen, so I wore it on a smaller finger. I realised during the day it was loose, so I decided to be careful! Now it was gone.
Possessions aren't that important to me, but this was a family heirloom. My daughter was not happy. I made a couple of enquiries on the phone without any success. I cleaned out my handbag in the hope it had fallen into its cavernous depths when I tried to extract my purse. No luck.
   Eventually, I told my husband. He was disappointed, but gracious with me.
I began to pray. "God, I want my ring back!" Nothing complex. But I prayed every time I thought of it.
   Then on Friday morning, I searched for my sunglasses without success. I had to leave home without them. My eyes were complaining and I was disappointed with myself. Why was I so careless? Why don't I pay more attention to detail? 
   I remembered taking them off when having coffee with a friend the previous afternoon. I placed them on the table around the sugar caddy. I could also remember telling myself not to do that, but put them safely in my bag. I had searched my bag under the downlights before I left home. I couldn't remember picking them up. I rang the coffee shop. No sunglasses.
   I was very cross with myself. When I bought these glasses I'd asked God for good sunglasses at a good price. Walking into a department store, I expecting to see sale signs in answer to my prayer. Not a single sale in sight! As I turned away, a salesperson stopped me. After talking to me and assessing my needs, she turned to one of the locked glass-fronted cabinets. I prepared myself to decline any offer she had for me. I never buy sunglasses that are expensive enough to be stored in locked cabinets!
   She looked for a few seconds. 'Ah! Here they are! I thought they must have been sold.'
   Turning to me, she held them out. 'Try these on. I think they are just what you're looking for.'
Not wanting to appear rude, I tried them on. They were perfect. Sighing, I handed them back.
   'It's your lucky day. These are reduced.'
   I bought those glasses for much less than half price, just within my budget. They were the best  sunglasses I'd  ever owned. I left the shop thanking God. He's so clever at shopping. 
   But now, I'd lost them. 'God, I want my glasses back!'
   I met my sister-in-law and we enjoyed coffee and conversation for a couple of hours. Returning to the glare of the sunlight, I remembered my lost glasses. 'God, I want my glasses back!'
       Look in your handbag!
   I nearly ignored the prompt. After all I had searched it thoroughly. However, I grabbed my bag and started to look.
      Try the side pockets
   I never use the side pockets. I store stuff, but don't open them, but sure enough, there they    were. Yay! Thank you God.
   "God, I want my ring back."
   I didn't mean to be pushy, but if He bought my glasses back, He could return my ring. I looked around the floor of the car, expecting to find it, but it wasn't there.
   Days have passed. There has been an expectation in me, but still no ring.
   This morning, I walked from my bedroom to the kitchen, following the route I walk countless times everyday. There winking at me from the floor is a ring. Surely not! I swoop and pick it up. Yes, Grandma Wanmer's ring. 
   My faith is high now. God, you have promised you will restore everything the enemy has stolen!
   What will you call back today?

Why do we pretend evil doesn't exist?

It is nearly eight weeks since we launched 'Though the Bud be Bruised'. It has travelled far and wide to places and people I guess I will never know. 



For the first few weeks I felt as though I was sitting on the edge of a volcano, wondering if it would erupt. Now I feel a little easier. Mostly reviews and readers alike have been very positive in their comments. 
The book has its controversial places and I know it would have been a very difficult read for many of my friends and family.
However I have been great blessed by many emails, comments and reviews. This story is bringing hope and restoration as well as a challenge to many. I am well pleased. 
I really enjoyed a chance meeting with a friend from the era of the book. She was delighted to have the truth exposed, everything out in the open. Others still don't want to know. I find that many Christians, when confronted with evil, like to hide it, ignore it, or pretend it doesn't exist. We as a family had to deal with wickedness. It invaded our lives in several forms. We were shocked by its presence, but no longer could we pretend it wasn't there. 


My favourite quote from the book is ‘Where evil is protected, evil thrives!’ Why does the church create an environment that covers (and hence incubates) anything unsavoury? Supposedly it is to make us good 'witnesses', so we look good to the world! But it isn't working. The world isn't blind or stupid. While we hide bad behaviour behind a veil of secrecy, they laugh at us and call us hypocrites and worse. Sadly, they are right. Hiding evil isn't displaying God's glory. His glory is shown when evil is exposed, defeated and the situation is restored! Only those who don't understand the mighty power of God to heal, restore and deliver keep the unsavoury in the dark! The world longs to see a power that can defeat their personal demons.
Someone said to me recently. 'I don't like fighting, so I don't participate in spiritual warfare.' My reply? 'You do participate - whether you like it or not. You are in a war and if you don't fight you are permanently defeated.'
Another friend commented on the phone. 'I'm just hanging in there. I'm hoping the devil will give up soon.' 
That won't work. He's never going to stop terrorising us while we don't resist. 


You, I and that lady all have within us the authority to send him packing! If we resist him he will flee. That is the Word of God. But resistance must be active and requires focus, determination and effort. If we really understood why Jesus came we would rush to His feet, in public, as the woman who had suffered from endless vaginal bleeding. She found wholeness, victory and new life. And then we would be able to share this victory with those who fight the ravages of evil every day. 
C'mon church! Rise up and fight! You can do it!

You call that love?

"Before you commit to loving someone, make sure they can love you unconditionally.'
It was typed over a pretty picture on Facebook. You know the ones where sayings are presented beautifully so we all share the concept?

But this statement is seriously flawed. It advices holding love until...until something happens. In other words, your love should be conditional on the other person's love being unconditional!


Do we even understand what unconditional love is? While the term is used a lot, but rarely is real love displayed. Everyone is hungry for it. We look for approval, acceptance, affirmation and call that love. But our need is deeper. We long for a person to relate to. We want to feel secure as we share our history, mistakes and hopes,  knowing it won't appear on facebook next week. We crave a person that will walk the road beside us. But will they love us when we're sick and ugly; ill or even dying? What about when they encounter our smelly feet or discover all their chocolate has been eaten?


Unconditional love is deeper than all the above. It lays down its life, puts aside its needs and wants, forgives and forgives again. It loves even when relationships can no longer be reconciled because of abuse. It loves until death.Only one who has experienced love can give such a love. When a person's love tank is full, they have a capacity to continue loving other, regardless. 


As a parent my love ran out. I could no longer give anything of myself to my child. Lies and false accusations, rejection and constant demands had bled me dry. I was finished, ready to give up, run away or die. Anything to escape the pain.


Good friends halted my flight. Trapped with no escape, I sought God. I asked Him a simple question. 'What message can I send her?'


Revelation broke through. I was in a busy shopping centre. Did others see it or hear bells? No. As I sat, I suddenly understood that regardless of the abuse and blame I had hurled at God most of my life, He still suffered and died for me. Yes, I'd been taught such things. But that day my heart burst open as I experienced His love poured out for me. He loved me regardless of my behaviour toward Him, my indifference to His love, my rejection of His quiet words. He was still there waiting, offering forgiveness, restoration, a new beginning. Never condoning my stupid behaviour, but never withdrawing His affection for me. In a matter of minutes everything changed. Now I could love my child continually, regardless of behaviour and words spoken. 


No longer was I trying to get my love from her. She couldn't supply it. Now my source of love never stops and it overflows to others, bringing healing, acceptance and wholeness. That was twenty years ago. I've tested it. Yes, His love for me (and for you) never runs dry.

I don't want to talk about it.

   Don't talk about it! I don't want to know! Leave me in my little cage of denial!
People, I find, don't want to hear about the on-going results of serious sexual trauma. 
   As a family, we walked the "Sexual Abuse Road." There is no way back, no sidetrack that avoids the bumps and potholes. We found ourselves on a journey we didn't choose or want, but we had no choice. Like it or lump it, this was our life. From that day on, our family would be classed as dysfunctional. Why? Because we were victims of crime.
   The road was rough, painful and difficult. It challenged everything we believed. Anything that wasn't a deeply embedded part of our lives was shaken off and we were left clinging to the Rock called Jesus.
    So I wrote the book, Though the Bud be Bruised, to share our journey and our victories: to show the amazing grace and healing love of our God who led us, via the wilderness, to wholeness. 
   The book also shares the church's struggle when dealing with such issues, especially when the consequences turn to unpleasant psychological outcomes. The unspoken (occasionally even spoken) judgement  implied that, if we had real faith, none of these things would be happening. As a family we made the church untidy. We marred the squeaky clean image that churches try and maintain to make God look good.
   The church's inability to handle our 'dysfunctional family' and the consequences of the abuse, which was perpetrated within the church, was nearly more painful for me than the crime itself.
   However that was years ago. It is all behind me. God, in His grace, used this disaster to reveal himself to me in a greater measure. I am very thankful for the love He showed me then, and continues to pour out on me to this very day.
   But this week I am angry again!
   I approached a Christian radio station asking for an opportunity to speak about my book. When a lovely lady rang to organise an interview, she back peddled upon hearing the topic was sexual abuse. After she consulted with the program director, I was referred away from the morning program to the News and current affairs. Their email asked why I would write a book about such a heavy topic and difficult subject matter. 
   All contact I've had with these people has been highly professional and very polite but it has stirred up my passion. Isn't it time good Christians stopped shying away from such subjects? Let's face the brutal facts. Sexual abuse has happened and is still happening within the church. And not only within those of traditional persuasion. It is equally embedded in 'alive' churches. One in four women and a lower percentage of men who sit in our churches have been victims of sexual abuse. One in four of the girls in our Sunday schools are or will be a victim.
   Ignorance of these facts made our family easy pickings for the enemy. I want parents to be better informed. My aim is to educate them of the dangers, and so expose the evil ways of the enemy. Let's shine a light of truth in the dark.
   Paedophilia is alive and well in churches. Today. Now! How can that be? Because where evil isn't challenged, it thrives! Where there is a discomfort around a topic, we can be sure it is active but camouflaged in our midst. The enemy loves to hide under a veil of false holiness and feigned humility. He is safe there, as long as no one is well enough informed  to recognise him and so expose him.

   Jesus walked amongst those who lived on the seamier side of life. He talked to the woman caught in adultery, called the thief down from the tree, spoke directly to the outcast woman who had been bleeding for years,and sat in the cemetery talking to the madman. Everyone was acceptable to Him, except the pious and hard-hearted religious leaders.
   Is there anyone out there who will open the doors with me and expose the wickedness that is hidden in the darkness of false piety?

Hidden in the darkness

   Victims of sexual abuse? They are everywhere. How can this be? Why does this disgusting crime continue to escalate in our society and why doesn't God do something about it?
    God's plan is for every child to be guarded and protected. His plan to protect children from sexual abuse is the same plan He uses to stop kids drowning in swimming pools, or burning their hand on the stove.
   Yes! It is parents. God's plan is that every child be guarded by a family, and that unit is responsible for the safety, protection and training of each little person that is born.
   But our children aren't born into a perfect world. Parents fail! And kids suffer, often times  at the hands of their own parents. Other times they are left defenceless at the hands of others because, in the darkness, mums and dads don't see the danger.
   Darkness! A lack of light! Although this disgusting crime usually takes place under the cover of night, the real camouflage is self-gratification, denial, lies, greed, selfishness. Lets name it for it really is. Evil. Sin.
   The same motivators which drive the perpetrator, also hide the evidence from the child's protectors. Denial and ignorance prevent the recognition of signs of abuse. Selfishness and the desire to 'not upset the apple cart' can cause the carer to turn a blind eye. Exposing the sin and bringing it to the light has catastrophic effects. Relationships are lost, loved  ones go into the hands of the police. Their security, both, financial and relational are under threat. Sub-consciously a decision is made to pretend it isn't happening and then a child is sentenced to a life of torment. 
   This decision is often justified by the carers own childhood experiences. 'Well, I survived, so he/she will just have to suck it up and live with it for the sake of the rest of the family'.
The sin, by its very nature, is hidden. It is shrouded by silence. Although, in his own mind,he has justified his actions as being harmless, the perpetrator never speaks of it and he silences his victim. 'This is our special secret! If you ever speak of this it will kill Mrs P'... or 'I will kill you.'
   So where is God in this mess?
   His heart is so broken, He sent Jesus. Yes, Jesus carried the pain of the victim on the cross. Bloodied, broken, exposed, he hung in public view. We know the soldiers mocked Him and made fun of Him. I'm sure, in that sin-filled, dark, evil environment, He would have been sexually abused amongst everything else He suffered.
   God made man with a free will. He will never violate that. So, unable to stop abuse, pain and sin, He instead gave His Son so we can be healed. Whilst hanging on the cross, He illustrated the way to wholeness. 'Father, forgive them. They don't know what they are doing?'
   He showed us that it is possible to forgive the unforgivable.
   He also is ready to forgive, heal and restore parents who have been negligent. And He is waiting to forgive the perpetrator, remove the veil from his eyes and restore his seared conscience.
   I hate sexual abuse! It is a vile, disgusting, painful blot on our society, but God is bigger. He can restore, heal, renew and make whole. In the meantime, His body, the church is called to wrap His arms around every hurting victim and pour the balm of His unconditional love over every hurting soul.

The take over

   They march in, one after the other, forming a line in military precision. Row after row of them, disappearing into the distance. They are taking over. I am powerless to stop them and unable to defeat their great numbers.
   I decide to take drastic measures and find that I can prevent their entry, for a length of time. The strategy is simple. Don't open the gate. But gates are gates for a reason. They must be opened to allow traffic to flow from both directions and once opened... they all march in . Some of these invaders are very welcome. I've been waiting on them and am keen to entertain them. But in order to find them I have to scan every face, eagerly grabbing those friendly or intriguing ones and pulling them aside. Unconcerned, the others continue to enter, looking neither left or right. They settle, taking up permanent residence until they are either rehoused or face the firing squad!
   I could commit mass murder, but they look at me with that hint of secrecy, or is it guile? There is a glance that suggests I should dance with them for a while, let them entertain me briefly and, uncertain, I lower my loaded gun. Part of my brain tells me I can live without them; the other part argues, 'But what if I need them one day?'
   So I demand to see their entry papers. They can't just march in here without and invitation! How dare they? I'll show them who is boss. Unperturbed, they flash their credentials at me. Every paper has a familiar signature on the bottom - mine! So now it appears I have found the problem. It is I!
   Self awareness births a brutal streak. I march to the back of the line and open fire. Ruthlessly I annihilate twenty at a time. Impassioned, my statistician records progress. 683, 663, 645, 632.
   Oh, no. I hear myself promising to look at this one later, or telling that one to wait. I close my eyes and destroy fifty in one hit! I wait. Silence. Not a word of objection. Getting braver I try again. Fifty more and another fifty! Yay. 482. I'm on a roll. Bang, bang! 282
   But again I feel uncertain. These residents are newer. What if I've missed something? What if I lose an opportunity? I start to scan faces and assign a few to temporary housing. I knock one here and there. I'm sure some of them have run up from the back of the line. Surely I've seen them before!
   Tired, I check with the statistician. Only 200 left. I can manage two hundred. That's okay. I'll fix the rest tomorrow. 
But the next day is busy and so my computer remains inert. 
I just opened the gate and....oh, no! There are 375 emails in my inbox again!

What a Celebration! What a Victory!

   What a fabulous night! We launched 'Though the Bud be Bruised' with fun and fanfare. This picture pretty much summarises the night. Everything Pink and Black and beautiful - but a few details fell sideways!
   Did that matter? No!
   In the background of this pictures you can see the books covered, waiting. We didn't open the boxes until the program was complete. Then we put a book in every hand, so they could touch, feel, and read. Then we trusted them to either pay or return the book.
    Did the party reach my expectations? I had three aims. I wanted...

•  everyone to enjoy themselves
•  the participants to leave as excited advocates for my book 
•  God's victory to be evident.

The room was full. There were about 200 people who were enthusiastic and excited. I've had lots of comments about the detail - the roses bruised on the path as people walked in, the petals which are still covering the front floor of my church, the pink and black food served by my wonderful grandchildren and the roses everywhere.

    Steve made a powerful opening speech, honouring God and encouraging men to read the book. My amazing guest speaker, Wendy Francis, Qld CEO of Australian Christian Lobby, put aside her own causes to quote from the book and talk about it. I was honoured by her words and encouragement.

  I took the opportunity to thank my friends, Dawn and Sue who have put so much effort into the book with advice and editing. I was very pleased to have my publisher,Rochelle, to share and delighted she sold many books written by other Australian authors.

    We gave everyone a lucky petal and drew a couple of prizes. It was just a fun night.
   So I return to the question - Was it successful. God was honoured, people did have fun and many books were sold.
I wait now to see if I have generated excited advocates. Only time will tell, but I do know of one friend that has two copies out on loan, another who intends giving it to the leaders of their children's ministry, another who says he'll be using it in evangelism! Yes I'm encouraged. But I'm excited when someone reads it and then has to 'pray about just so many things'.

 It was more than a book launch! We celebrated a great victory.


The evil that was designed to destroy us and our family has been turned completely around. It has been exposed in this book of victory. May many others find victory through the pages of 'Though the Bud be Bruised.'

   

  
   

Preparing for a Book Launch!

   
This week has been a lot of fun as I prepare for the party to celebrate the release of my book, 'Though the Bud be Bruised.' Replies to the invitations are filtering in. Food is organised and the drinks are stowed ready. Everything follows the colour theme as established set by the book cover and so I've been chasing down a variety of things from black serviettes to pink balloons.
    On the way I've made a few exciting discoveries, little things that seem to there waiting for me to find them! I was shopping with Julie, my friend and party consultant yesterday. (She has an eye for the extraordinary that can turn a room into a sensation!) We were shopping in a popular candle store looking for pink tea-lights when she spies a beautiful candle. It was crafted in the shape of a rose and just happened to be the same colour as the rose on the cover of the book. Excited, she is planning where to use them. I am cautious. I'm sure they will be expensive. But wait! They are on sale as they were Mother's day stock, so now reduced to $5 each. We get five of them. But when they go through the cash register they have been reduced again. Now only $2. I grab more of them. 
    We leave the shop feeling the favour of the Lord. I'm sure he's going ahead of me to organise things. Farewelling Julie, I walk into the next shop and find a great skirt to wear. And guess what? It has roses on the black lace. The shop assistant asks about the book launch and takes a card so she can order a book from Amazon.
    From there I go next door. There I find a black top that has lace sleeves with...you guessed it...roses in the lace. I grab that, thankful for the sale price and bring it all home to try with the pink scarf I bought last week. Together it looks great. Oh and did I tell you that the scarf came with a pendant - a large moulded rose.
    All these little things remind me that God is always leading and guiding me. I feel safe in the hollow of his hand. It gives me confidence the book has been written at right time.

The labour pains are beginning

When the nine months is up a woman has no choice - she must bring her baby into the world. Although I've never given birth, I've assisted at the births of six beautiful babies so I understand some of the struggle required to produce a strong, healthy, noisy baby.



But now I'm facing my first birth. Well it feels like that to me. In six weeks my baby is due to be born. I know it is a girl and she is already named. Though the Bud be Bruised will be released on 2nd  June with much fan fare and fun. The question that exercises my mind is this. Will this baby book survive? Will she grow to be strong or will she be a one day wonder and fade away?


And so I labour with everything that is within me to bring forth the full potential of what God has planted. Today we have the 'show' - the first tangible evidence that the birth in eminent. Yes, my publisher has a few copies of the book. On Saturday, I'll hold a copy in my hand. It's very exciting, but, I remind myself,  it is just a bundle of paper. The real book won't be born until it is in readers hands and flowing into their hearts. The real book is the message of hope and love that awaits to leap off the pages.


What if she is still born, if the books land on bedside tables and overstuffed book shelves, gathering dust rather than inspiring minds? What if the book doesn't cry out to be read? What if it is opened and then discarded and forgotten?

I have done everything I can do throughout the two year gestation period to bring forth a strong, healthy specimen. In the inner places, the story was formed to honour God and inspire others to know Him, to love Him and to walk in faith. It was crafted to be an enjoying, compelling read.  But now as the labour begins, the reality will soon be exposed. 

How I work over the next few months will effect the size and scope of the impact of this powerful little book. And like any mother in the birthing suite, I need support people. I need ambassadors, reviewers, gossipers, and friends. Anyone that can tell others about the book. People who can open doors far and wide until this book is in such demand that Koorong will be asking for stock, libraries will be ordering it, and I'll be invited to speak all over Australia.


So get ready! I'll put everything I have into pushing this book as far as I can across the nations. All I ask is that you get a copy, read it and recommend it to others. Pre orders are open, but I'm yet to get payment methods finalised. 

Fiction - a valid form of teaching?

My young friend was so shocked I thought his face was going to drop off his head. He has been eagerly awaiting the release of my book. The other day I told him that the book was a fiction. His disappointment was clear.
'But...but I've never read a fiction.' Between his words I could hear, 'I've never wasted my time on such trivial things. I'm a serious student of the Word.'
Trying to recover, he continued. 'I guess I could try and read a fiction.' He sounded doubtful.
'Jesus talked fiction.' I waited for the idea to sink in. 'The Bible refers to His stories as parables.'
As I've preached in the last months, my young friend has heard me refer to my book . He is expecting good solid teaching. He won't be disappointed. The teaching is there, but it is encapsulated in story, drama, struggles and real life, instead of clearly articulated points, lists and carefully referenced theology. 
Jesus used both forms of communication to teach his followers, disciples and dissenters. But it is the stories that are remembered, repeated and pondered over. We have taught our children basic life principles using stories like 'The boy who cried Wolf,' so why has fiction been pushed into a genre that is considered lesser literature than a non-fiction book. Consider 'Anne of Green Gables', 'Oliver,' 'The Lord of the Rings' and 'Brave Heart'. The stories remain part of us, long after the book is shut or the movie closes. Scenes return to our minds at unexpected times. They lead us and guide us.
That is my prayer for 'Though the Bud be Bruised.' May the story remain in the readers mind and bring wisdom, understanding and a deeper love of God, as the months and years pass. May it bring hope of healing to those in pain and clarity to those who are confused. These are big expectations, but I have a big God. He asked me to write the book and I have, presenting it as well as I could. Now I release it to Him. I have written it on paper. It is His role to write it on readers hearts.

Nervous at the Printer

My book 'Though The Bud Be Bruised' is nearly ready to go to the printers. I'm both exciting and apprehensive. I've wanted to tell this story for twenty years. The book, a faction, covers a period in my life where my firm foundations in God were poured, with much blood, sweat and tears. It is an amazing story of God's grace and compassion, determination and faithfulness, discipline and love. It relates the revelations and insights He gave me, the miracles He performed and the the way He kept His Word.
So why would I be nervous?
There are several reasons. How will the critics and reviewers receive my first attempt at a novel?  I'm nervous because I can be very picky about other people's writing, so I expect my inexperience as a writer will be fair fodder to any professional.
Secondly, some of the content of the book will be shocking, especially those who know me but don't know the full story of those difficult years. My mentors have tried to help me present the truth as gently as possible, but sometimes truth is stark and there is no way of softening the blow!
What will people think of me? The book is raw and transparent. Will my readers give Zara enough grace? Will they understand that she can't be perfect and get it right first time? Will they judge her decisions and reactions as wrong. 
In the earlier stages of writing this book, one of my 'readers' was very judgemental toward Zara and Sam. I was for an instant shocked by her comments, but then understood her reaction was about my writing, not about me personally. These comments helped me to fix weak areas in my writing for which I am grateful.
However my excitement far out weighs these concerns. The truths I learned will be published for everyone to hear. Anyone can read of the wonderful things God has done in my life. That's exciting! 
I hope many enjoy the read and then recommend the book to others just because it is good. And as Jesus told parables so some would hear and understand, so I publish this book. To some it will be a great story, to others, may it bring hope and life!

Yes, it's a new year and I'm excited

Welcome Twenty Twelve! 

As is our tradition, this year Dawn, Steve and I watched the new year's first light creep over the ocean. We worshipped our Lord as the light started to colour the sky and we thanked Him for all this year will bring. And we waited to catch that first beam of sunlight. But the sun was shy. It hid behind a cloud as though reluctant to open this new era.

 As we watched it seemed the cloud bank lifted with the sun, protecting the sun, holding its direct light at bay. Clearly the sun was there. The whole world was awake, but in the shadow of that cloud. I started to pray that God would remove the blockages in me that stopped the full light of His love and passion to shine upon me and through me. I asked that any cloud that hindered His full work through me this year would be dissipated.
And we considered God's ways. The full light of God's plans will burst forth this year, in His good timing.

 As we waited we ate from the table prepared for us. We remembered that Jesus body was broken so that we may live in the light. Jesus blood was poured out so we could be free, free to live and walk as Jesus walked on the earth. Like the gentle breeze the presence of God flowed through us and around us.


We toasted Jesus. As our glasses clinked together I knew that this year is significant in His purposes.  Then my new year's resolution became clear. This year I will endeavour to keep all my reactions and responses in line with Jesus. I will trust God has all things in control. I will walk in the confidence of being His child. I will love constantly, be joyful always, pray without ceasing.
What will God do this year? I'm not sure but I do know I want to be in the midst of those circumstances.
So I've activated two bible reading plans on my iPhone. One will guide me through the whole Message Bible in a year. The other helps me explore the New Testament in three months. It is a lot of reading I know, but how can I hope to fulfil my new years resolution without the power of the Word to strengthen me and guide me.
This morning I found an amazing verse.

And here I am, 

your invited guest-it's incredible!

I enter your house;

Here I am prostrate in your inner sanctum,

waiting for directions 

to get me safely through enemy lines.

Ps 5:7&8

Yes, It's incredible! I'm His guest. And as the year progresses the shadows will disappear and His Sun will shine forth. And He'll tell me exactly what to do! Yes, it's a new year and I'm excited!

Missing Home

'I can't sleep on this bed! It's too hard.' My gorgeous granddaughter threw herself around the room. Her sister climbed up on the double bed claiming her space beside me.
It was night five on our holiday with these two granddaughters and it was the third place we'd stayed. Obviously they were out of their comfort zone.
'I'll have to sleep standing up.' She retrieved the pillow she'd thrown across the room and stood beside her bed, cuddling it to herself and resting her head on its end.
I lay on her single bed and  invited her to join me. She refused and kept throwing herself around the room. I controlled my desire to yell at her. We were in a heritage B&B in Katoomba. We'd sat in the classy lounge room, drinking coffee and playing board games. I'd read to her. Was this how she was going to repay my generosity?
I took a deep breath. I suspected she was homesick and suffering a pain that she could only identify as a sore back.
'If I was home I could go lie on the lounge!' She confirmed my suspicions.
I lay on her bed and waited. Eventually she flung her body down beside me and tolerated having her back rubbed. Ten minutes later she dismissed me. 'You can go to your bed now.' Within seconds she was asleep. The next morning she woke up happy and enjoyed the rest of the holiday.
I was thankful I'd remained patient and not caused a scene. That familiar quiet voice spoke in my heart. 'She's a lot like you really.'
'Like me?' Then I understood. I can get grumpy too. Could it be I'm homesick for my heavenly Daddy and I don't recognise it? Maybe it happens when I haven't spent time with God for a few days. Mmm ... I think I'd better go and spend some time with Him!