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Hostage

Hostage

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Hostage

Lunghezza:
83 pagine
1 ora
Editore:
Pubblicato:
Feb 17, 2015
ISBN:
9781311932174
Formato:
Libro

Descrizione

Stop holding me hostage, words Jesus called out to me. On five separate occasions he showed me a small dingy room I constructed to either keep him out of my life in some way or hold him there. With each visit Jesus opened my eyes a little more to how I held him captive out of fear, pride or unbelief. Jesus wanted to move freely in my life but I had built an earthly perception of who he was and what I thought Jesus was capable of doing in my life. Before he brought me to the room I felt that there was nothing wrong with our relationship. Through his eyes and heart he showed me areas in my life I need to change. I wrote down this journey to share with others so they too can set Jesus free in their lives.

Walk this journey with me and learn how we have held Jesus hostage in our lives. Come with me and learn about the ropes of unbelief, and fear that ties God’s hands in our lives. Read about the picture frames that holds Jesus trapped in a picture of who we think he is. Walk along the wall we have built and held together by nails forged out of our will and more. We must set Jesus free so that we can be free.

Editore:
Pubblicato:
Feb 17, 2015
ISBN:
9781311932174
Formato:
Libro

Informazioni sull'autore

I am a mother to three girls and a grandmother to three boys. I live in North Carolina and have always enjoyed writing. With this gift God gave me I am trying to use it for good. my goal in all my writings either in book or my blog is to draw people closer to God.

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Hostage - Amy Burr

Hostage

By Amy D. Burr

Copyright 2015 Amy D. Burr

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Content

Chapter 1: Ropes-Tying Gods Hands

Chapter 2: Pictures- Our of Perception

Chapter 3: Walls of Separation

Chapter 4: The Window of Heaven

Chapter 5: The Heart of the Matter

In Loving Memory

Michael Burr (Pastor Mikey)

Finish and publish your book and write many many more. From Mike’s last letter he wrote.

Special thank you to:

Jessica, Megan, Kimberly, Friends and family for walking this great journey with me

Ikiniki Photography by Elizabeth Nicole England: Photo on front cover

This book is unlike any book you might read. God gives his children visions, revelations, and insights that leave a lasting impression on the hearts of those who receive them. This happened to me, prompting me to share that experience. Not a day goes by I don’t reflect on my journeys into the spiritual realm. When I felt it was impossible, Jesus was there to listen and encourage me to keep going. Millions of thoughts fought for my attention during those long hours alone in front of a flashing curser waiting for my command. The Holy Spirit came and refocused my attention on the task at hand.

I prayed how to share these visions. Many people back off from supernatural revelation as if hearing the words of hell because of the terrible stigma attached to them. There have been so many false prophets and so-called spoken visions it has left an awful taste in the mouths of most Christians. Satan is crafty; he knows how to counterfeit the real thing. God doesn’t change, we do. We changed how we think God should and will move. But God is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

God speaks to many people through visions, dreams, or a still small voice. But, most are too afraid to share such wonders with others out of fear. Sometimes a specific word is meant for yourself or someone else. Timing is important; it is important to pray how to share what God has laid on your heart.

Learn his voice, so you know it’s him speaking to you, spending time with him is the best way. An hour on Sunday and forty-five minutes on Wednesday is not long enough to build a meaningful bond. A blind person learns to compensate by having extraordinary listening skills. He can recognize a person by the sound of a walk, a breathing pattern or voice; even if someone whispers, a blind person with acute hearing can pick someone out. Christians should emulate this quality. We have not physically seen the face of God. We should learn to have extraordinary listening skills to pick his voice out of the crowd of voices that constantly assault our ears daily. Throughout this short writing, listen for God’s footsteps, breathing pattern and his voice. Open your heart and mind and the Holy Spirit will show you what you need to take away from this book in to build a stronger relationship with God.

***~~~***

Chapter 1: Rope: Tying God’s Hands

It was a typical Sunday morning, at my small country church in the south, New Beginnings. Fields of cotton swayed back and forth from a light breeze, signifying the end of summer. The lack of rain and scorching heat from a typical North Carolina summer dried out the land. As the breeze frolicked in the cotton fields it kicked up small clouds of dust. The air was thick and sticky; it was another hot day in the south.

Everyone scurried into the front doors of the church as if being chased, to get away from the humidity in the air before they began their Sunday morning greetings. Stepping through the front doors brought you into a small foyer, with bathrooms on the left and a sound room that doubled as a hangout on the left. As people made their way in, heads popped out of the sound room to say good morning and pop right back in to finish their weekly catch-up session. The sanctuary was two pews across and ten deep, but was plenty of room for the kids to play and giggle, while the adults attended to their business. The back wall and lower half of the walls were 70s style paneling with eggshell white paint on the top half. Four frosted windows skipped along the wall letting just enough light to dance across the top of the pews as the sun made its way across the sky. At times the light could blind you if you found yourself in the right pew. A few years before New Beginnings added on a small addition in the back to house the pastor’s office and a nursery. Cool air seeped out of the vents over head from an over-worked air conditioner, causing hints of moth balls mixed with dampness to drift around the building. The subtle odor testified to the many years the building peacefully sat among the cotton fields. As people walked to their respective pew, the perfume of each lady passing by disguised the fragrance of the old building, for a few seconds.

Every time someone sat, the old wooden pews covered in worn mauve fabric moaned and creaked. But the pews did not show its wear as much as the match mauve carpet that ran the center aisle. A well-defined trail ran the length from the door to the front of the church, evidence of the many trips to the altar of the faithful to pray. There are no assigned seats in a church, or shouldn’t be, but people often grow comfortable in their pew. Every Sunday without fail people gravitated to their pew. We are creatures of habit and feel safe in our own places even if it’s as simple a pew in church.

In the first three rows on the right side sat the Johnson family. The multi-generational family comprised of grandparents to great-great-grandchildren. The grandparents had twelve children, and those twelve had at least two children, filling two or three pews. I sat two rows behind them and watched in wonder every Sunday. How did they manage such a large family? Once one sat down, another one popped up and moved, then the next one wanted to sit next to Grandma, the family shifted along the pew. This one wanted to sit next to Aunt Kathy, causing everyone to shift again, organized chaos, but they made it work.

On the left side of the church were various families, none as large as the Johnson’s family. The Bishops, who sat in the second pew on the left, were a lovely older couple accepted the role of everyone’s grandparents. Sunday was not Sunday unless

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