Come Alive with Jesus, a beautiful new journal produced by Jesse and Kara Birkey, is now available here.
It’s my honor and privilege to have Jeremy Jernigan as a guest blogger. I first heard Jeremy speak as a guest at Woodland Hills Church and was deeply impacted by the message he brought, the message you’ll read about below. If you’d like to hear the full message you can find it here. I strongly encourage you to check it out.
Find Jeremy’s contact information below and find out how you can connect with him. You can also find his book on Amazon. Enjoy!
I stretched and leaned back into my chair, the chair I sit in when I want to get quiet and still and just be with Jesus. It’s not a bad chair. At least not until the footrest is extended. Then it leans to the left like someone whose had too much to drink.
Back in the summer of 2000, my wife and I attended what was called a “Jesus 2000 Conference” on a Thursday evening in St. Louis. It was held in the huge Edward Jones Dome. This conference was an attempt to bring all streams of different denominations together, in unity, including many Protestant denominations and Roman Catholics.
Over the years I’ve become convinced that one of our adversary’s best and most destructive schemes is showing us today while blinding us to tomorrow. The, forest for the trees so to speak.
I squinted at the sun peaking over the tree line and angled my head so I could see the road better. I’d just had an intriguing conversation with a friend and was driving somewhere I don’t even remember now. But I do remember the voice that warmed my heart.
If they knew me, I mean really knew me, there wouldn’t be even a hint of fear or reservation about coming into my presence.
I sighed and glanced at the clock. Eleven PM. I shifted in my seat and dropped one hand off the steering wheel. There were a lot of hours ahead and too few behind. The highway stretched ahead like a monotonous drone oblivious to the late hour. Highways don’t sleep. Hopefully the people driving on them don’t either.
The night was black as pitch. Two garage lights shone like beacons as my partner and I pushed the stretcher up the slanted driveway.
The garage door was open and inside mom and dad stood with their son (let’s call him Jim). “We don’t know what else to do,” mom said. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted heavy eyes. “He needs help.”
**We (Kara and I) are looking for testimonies of supernatural resurrection for an exciting new project. If you have a story of this nature (personal or otherwise) please share it with us. Contact information is below**
The clock showed midnight and the item on the floor was just a small piece of garbage. It lay next to the garbage can mocking me with its dirty little eyes.
I’ll never go in there, it seemed to say. Try and put me in. Go ahead, just try it! So, as to not be intimidated by a piece of trash, I bent over like I’ve done a million times and a red-hot iron stabbed me in the lower back.
I don’t usually comment on trending world issues. But I wanted to this time. For those of you who’ve read and digested a plethora of articles and blogs regarding Michael Brown and Ferguson, please bear with me for one more.
“Hey is there something wrong with your left ear?”
The young girl we’ll call Ruby tilted her head and threw me a quizzical look. “No, why?”
