August 30, 2009

Finishing what He started

In my opinion, one of the most precious ministries we have is to allow Christ all our that he can come in to another life to love them...touch them..encourage only He can. Let's start with our spouse, then our children...and then whoever God puts on our path all day long. Isn't that what everyone purpose finish what He started.
With love and prayers for a wonderful week.

August 22, 2009


Everyone is a musician...some music is only heard within the heart of the artist. The instrument that glorifies God is always LOVE.
Candace Huffmaster

August 7, 2009

Free Indeed: a poem


You are not mine, your path not my choice.
In prayer I help lift you so your eyes might find view.
Pleading your case for mercy and strength,
Stability of step, relinquish of self.
My commitment, dear brother, depends not on you,
With respect and obedience, I share the love of my Christ.
We, together, are standing, and calling your name.
Our hands are uplifted, as we claim your way,
Armies of angels are there by your side,
'Til you desire me, as your sister in Christ.
Our children are blessings, out of love they did come,
Not of us, but from our father; to teach us others come first,
How to reach out and catch when the weaker is in need.
No thought of ourself, just the urgent need to protect,
Our heart is our home, both for shelter and to heal,
Harsh storms are predicted, and provision a need.
How is our structure? How strong is our base?
Will the storm totally demolish, or increase our faith?
Words are protection, the essence of God,
Like stones of provision, to call into place,
Our home is constructed with decades of words.
The question before us is, who drew the plans?
What is the quality of material, and how skilled was the craft?
Design is important and space planning a must,
Good walls for stability; load bearing walls placed,
A roof to deflect trouble, working doors for secure rest.
Without knowledge and precision, mistakes can be made,
Causing compromised elements that cannot withstand.
Repair is always an option, but wisdom a must,
With the added weight of poor choices, a foundation can break
What was the compilation of each manufactured brick?
Was it purest ingredients, Best choice for strong walls,
Or whitewash and flash only withstanding the first fire?
Though the exterior seems solid, the storms have not yet destroyed.
One more question I ask you to patiently think through,
If words are not quality and carefully picked,
And the bricks of construction are equal to this.
If walls built for structure become too high and too thick,
What will happen to a house built like this?
With no thought beforehand, or possibly the vision is lost,
The owners start stacking, no patients are left.
What started as a vision of unity... a dream...
Is burdened with wreckage and bricks not worth use.
Now just an erection of earthen constructs,
A cold, unattractive, and unusable space.
Where does this family go? What on earth do they do?
Their provision, destroyed, and outside they all stand?
The rain starts to pelt them, a storm's moving in,
And one of them is broken beyond her strength.
She realizes what has happened and quickly bends her knee
To seek God’s provision and forgiveness for her sins.
My children, she continues, shouldn't perish because they trusted me.
It was I who failed you, not listening, I strayed.
Deliver us, Father, my obedience is yours,
No longer will I follow those not walking with you.
My desire is to please you and do your good work,
Not my way, but yours, Lord; my life I commit.
I lay my life down, to lift my family up,
So together as one, hand-in-hand, we might walk,
She turned to her children, asked forgiveness for all,
She confessed and promised their needs would be met.
The other was frantic, running to and fro,
Seeking out shelter adequate to him,
Ordering them to follow, not looking at them,
Unaware of his distance and obstacles between,
He stood there in frustration, that the others did not see,
How he perfectly provided, and his strength was enough,
The wife and kids search for him, now filled with peace,
Searching they find him, toward him they run,
With the storm on the horizon, moving in like a train,
Their hands reach to lead him to the safety they see,
The fear's in his face, they try desperately to ease,
Just trust us and follow, there is shelter ahead,
Too afraid of the twister, he sees more clearly than them,
He tightens his grip and ignores their outstretched hands,
Too heavy to carry and he won’t move with them,
Through hail they keep working, unwilling to fail,
His frustration is building; they need to come in!
"Just do what I’m telling you," he starts to yell.
He sees the twister and thinks they are blind,
Stubborn and careless and that they deserve to die.
He tells them come in here, this place is just fine,
We’ve no time to get there, so he will not move.
God calls them to follow and trust in His lead,
Pray for him while you are coming, then maybe he will see,
How much we love him and desire him to be free.
His faith is personal, you must move on.
You are not abandoning him or disrespecting his place,
He is not willing to abide in My grace.
Control is mine... and obedience, yours.
Let go so he can follow; you are blocking his view.
The twister is behind you, so don’t turn or look back,
Keep focused, I’ve called you, to come out of that place.
In his face are his choices now that you are behind me.
His storm is self-inflicted – self being the key.
The twister, his turmoil, of struggle with strength,
My face is before him and my arms are open wide,
He has my comfort when you walk behind.
The release of his grip is his decision to make.
No wind do I send him... I only send grace.
He chooses to see storms, instead of my face,
And turbulent winds instead of my grace.
The storm is his reality which is an eschewed view of his world.
My world is out here, he just will not come through the door.
You cannot break down his door or loosen his grip,
You know I could do that, but I respect his space.
Come home with my children, this is not your fight.
When he desires us, we will be there, you all safely behind me.
'Til then, I am your husband, father and best friend.
To the one that is stuck, this is my plea:
Stop where you are and listen to me,
When your heart is with me, there I will be.
Until then, know that you are free.

By Candace Huffmaster