Holy Spirit: The Guide of a Lifetime

What do you imagine when you think of the Holy Spirit? A presence that comes upon us by the flick of a magic wand, changing us into a new being in an abracadabra second? Or a gentle stirring, a loud whisper, a nudge in our conscience?

The Spirit of Christ is not magical, it is holy. It doesn’t transform us like a magic spell would. Instead, it directs us on the narrow path of life that leads us to the Father.

“But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come.” – John 16:13

The Holy Spirit works in our lives by:

Changing us.

Although our whole lifestyle doesn’t change in an instant, kindling God’s Spirit inside us will completely transform our perspective on life. Once you believe in Jesus, the Spirit indwells within you. But as my youth pastor said, it’s just like adding chocolate to milk–the chocolate will just sink to the bottom unless you shake it up, changing the plain milk into chocolate milk. By walking with the Spirit of Christ, and by listening and obeying to His instruction, we will become more like Jesus over time. Even Samuel as well as other prophets in the Old Testament experienced the dramatic impression the Spirit has on God’s servants.

“The Spirit of the Lord will come powerfully upon you, and you will prophesy with them; and you will be changed into a different person.” – 1 Samuel 10:6

Interceding for us.

I’m learning that I don’t have to sort my thoughts out for the Almighty God to understand me. The Spirit intercedes for us without words, but with feeling. How wonderful that our Creator understands us so intimately!

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” – Romans 8:26

Guiding us.

Once we pray to God for forgiveness and ask for His saving grace through Jesus, the Holy Spirit puts a new lens on our life (which I’ve learned that I need to reapply it more than once!). Now we can go out into the world, trying to do God’s will according to what the Spirit guides our heart to do. Reading the Bible is a huge source of thoughts directly from the Sprit of God, who guided the individuals who wrote it.

Even if we are faced with persecution, God promises to give us the words to speak through the Holy Spirit. Not only that, but the Lord directs us, by the Spirit, to do the right thing and resist temptation. So even when we’re weak, the Spirit is always strong in us!

“I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.” – 1 Corinthians 2:3-5

Empowering us.

The Spirit of Christ has the power to fill our hearts with the warmth of God’s love, even when it’s initially hard for us to show that love.

Corrie Ten Boom, a Holocaust survivor, once faced a Nazi who had given his life to Christ and now wanted to shake hands with her. Unbeknownst to him, she recognized him as one of the Nazis who had dealt with her in the concentration camp. She didn’t feel any love for him, but she prayed for Jesus’ strength. Then raised her hand to shake his. Suddenly, as she shook his hand, she was filled to overflowing with love for the ex-Nazi, that could only have come from God. This is just one example of a Christian who relied on the Holy Spirit.
“And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” – Romans 5:5

 

We ourselves are no exception to what the Spirit of Christ can do for us if we have even one mustard seed of faith in the Lord Jesus who saved us and calls us to a holy–not magical–life. We can now breathe new air and sing a new song that reshapes our entire lives not through spells, but through the wisest Teacher one could ask for. And through this Spirit we have the greatest gift of all–fellowship with our Heavenly Father forever and ever.

 

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Reblog: The Process of Your Calling

The more people I talk to, the more I see a common theme in each persons heart: the desire to know what they were created for. We ponder questions like:

Source: The Process of Your Calling

Never Alone

Dearest friends,
Don’t look at me as too quiet to care,
Too innocent to know,
Or too happy to sympathize.
I am here to laugh with you on the good days,
But I am also here to help you on the bad.
If you don’t feel comfortable to talk to me about the bad,
It makes me sad.
Maybe I don’t know how to be a friend to you,
Maybe I’m learning.
But I hope I can be better and stronger and kinder towards you,
Because each moment with you is precious to me;
Each second gives me a chance to smile
Or to ask you what’s wrong.
I am not loud or especially smart or particularly good at comforting you,
But I care
I know
And I sympathize.
Because God is so much more than loneliness;
He is the light in the darkness,
And He is here for you.
I started this poem pleading you to spill out your troubles
To me,
And that burden I would gladly bear
If it could set you free.
But I should urge you to first spill them in the gracious hands of God,
Who takes them and kills them
With His Shepherd’s rod.
Just as His Son trampled the serpent to death,
So His presence can now be our place of rest.
He is our Father
Who sent His Son to die in our place,
So you would have eternal comfort and grace.
He is your Father.
I am your sister.
The church is your family.
Even if you’re far from home,
We are here for you, so you never have to be alone,
And neither do I.
Together we can endure the storms
That slay our hearts
And rise up into the light
Whole again,
And stronger,
With a friendship that
Will never die.

“3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” – 1 Cor. 1:3-4 (NIV)

Calling Christian writers: Please feel welcome to share your blog!

Hello! I just saw a post similar to this on WordPress, and thought it was a really neat idea. Lately I can’t think what to write about on here, but I would love to read other people’s blogs, especially if they are centered on our wonderful Savior. Hopefully it will be an encouragement to whoever else sees your comment as well!

Blessings,

Grace

Prologue of Istagun

Here is the prologue of a book I just started writing this week. Thanks to my sister who came up with the first inspiration. Hint: “Istagun” is the name of this fantasy island, and it actually is a Maltese word that means “Season.” But this prologue alone isn’t going to tell you the whole story world, it’s just a teaser. 😉 Hope you enjoy!

I poised my head to the side, tucking the cherry blossom in my curly brunet hair. The sun was shining sweetly on the bright dainty fairies who hovered about to till the ground to the south and water the sprouted carrots and onions toward the north. Everything was always growing, and there was always a flower or vegetable ready to harvest.
“Dahlia, your sistah wants you,” a four-year-old boy called to me from the little thatched hut.
I smiled at him, glad to have friends at every corner, though I could hardly remember all their names. Stepping passed him, I entered the hut full of crying human babies attended to by the mother fairies. I rushed to my eight-year-old sister’s bedside, where Hollis lay dead silent in the midst of the infants’ cries.
It always struck me how pale she looked. For some reason I hadn’t gotten it into my head yet that she wasn’t the same carefree girl she was a year ago. She was delicate, ailing; a tumor had arisen on her forehead last month, swelling larger every day.
I knelt beside her and clasped my hand around hers. “What is it, Hollis?”
She gazed up at me, her solemn blue eyes feverish, desperate, experiencing something I did not understand. Something no one but her could understand in the middle of cheerful Spring.
“I’m not so sure I want to live anymore,” she whispered, her breath as fragile as the pixies about us.
I pulled the cherry blossom out of my hair and tucked it in between her fingers. “Don’t say that, Hollis.”
She gripped my hand so hard for a split second, and then let go. “You don’t know anything, Dahlia. You don’t know where we came from, or where Andrea went—and all the rest of the older ones.”
I bit my lip. For a younger sister, she seemed smarter than I was. Wiser. Maybe that’s what the pain did to her. I was fourteen years old, and so was Andrea when she left. So were all the others.
“You think they’re going to take me away?” I asked gently.
“Don’t act so innocent,” Hollis said. “Of course they’re going to take you away.”
Tears poured down her cheeks now, unable to resist themselves. I covered her with my body, trying to give her safety, relief. “Oh, Hollis,” I murmured, “I have no idea where we came from. You’re right about everything, Hollis. You never believed me, did you?”
She wept into my chest, clinging to me as tightly as her weak hands could. “Yeah,” she said feebly. “Across the sea and over the mountains was all you could think of. But I knew better. The fairies come in girls and boys, too. When they’re older, one boy and one girl decide to live together, and then somehow they have a baby fairy.”
I held Hollis’ neck, chuckling. “So, you figured it out, too. They’re called mothers and fathers. That’s why we’re sisters—we have the same mother and father. The fairies said so.”
Relaxing, she rested her head back into the pillow, content that I’d spoken the truth once and for all, though she’d already guessed it.
“I will never leave you,” I assured her, as if it were something I could control. “Maybe we’ll never get to see our parents, and I’m not sure why. But we’ll always have each other. That’s one thing you can be sure of.”
I had to lie, to keep her dreaming, hoping, and alive. It didn’t matter that she didn’t believe me, for as long as she knew that I loved her, she had reason to fight away her longings of escaping this life.
Hollis’ eyes fluttered, threatening to close. “But what if I die?” she said softly. “What will happen to you?”
It had been last year that this disease fell upon my sister. The fairies said it would never leave her, that there was no cure—not even with the potions. Worst of all, they hinted that she had a shorter lifespan than most humans.
“Death,” I said. “Is that another thing you learned about from watching the fairies?”
At her grimace, I managed a tight smile to reassure her, for it hurt me to see her so uneasy. “Well, Hollis, there’s a million things I’m uncertain of, and that I can’t control. But no matter what happens, you’re not going to die. Do you believe me?”
Her fingers loosened her hold on my hand as her eyelids shut firmly at last, her mind drifting off into a slumber that would temporarily ease her pain.
Of course she didn’t believe me. Leaning forward, I planted a kiss on the tumor-less part of her forehead. “There is one thing I can truly promise you, Hollis: I will never forget you, no matter what happens.”