My husband and I were both twenty-one when we were married; in love, we knew we could conquer the world on a penny and a prayer. I was a college student, determined to go to law school and he was working the swing shift at $7.80 an hour. We were living the newly wed dream. We were not planning on having children for a very long time as we had life plans for our future; but the contraceptive didn’t work and we found ourselves just over six months newly married and pregnant. I cried almost every day of that pregnancy. The timing was a disaster in my mind. The finances were impossible. The dreams I had were dying before my very eyes. The theme song of my life was “I”. Yet because I knew that life began at conception, an abortion would be murder, plain and simple. Murder is a capital offense before God and I would not kill the life that was growing in me because it cut into my well laid plans. According to WebMD, I had all the classic reasons to justify an abortion and I fit the list of the most common reasons that teens and young women choose to have an abortion:⁴

• Awareness that they are not mature enough to have children.
• Knowledge that they are financially not able to support or care for children.
• Concern that having a baby would change their lives and compromise their (and a child’s) future. Many young mothers don’t ever manage to get the education and employment necessary to raise their children above the poverty line.

• Birth control (contraceptive) failure. Over half of all women who have an abortion used a contraceptive method during the month they became pregnant.³
• Physical or mental conditions that endanger the woman’s health if the pregnancy is continued.

I could have checked off each one of these reasons and made the legally justified decision to end the pregnancy, but my belief that all life is sacred and that conception is the beginning of life, countered these selfish reasons to abort this baby.

I continued on with my life, as this new life grew inside mine. I walked to my political science classes, worked my part-time job and dealt with the emotions of life not going the way I planned it. My husband came with me to every doctor’s appointment and was my support. We saw our baby, looking very much like a baby on the ultra sound and we went to birthing classes to prepare for this event. I continued to cry. The day she was born, my tears dried up. Twenty years and four more children later, my life is very different from the one I had planned, yet I recognize that God knows better that me. I have talked to professionals who have lived their dreams in their pursued fields, but have missed out on what they have discovered as their most important calling on life. I specifically recall a conversation with my doctor, who had just begun practicing medicine. She and I both had had babies around the same time, and she was back at work, doing the job she had dreamed about for a most of her life. She said, “I would love to stay home with my baby, but I have medical school bills to pay and can’t afford not to work.” She was living her life long career dream, but was torn because her heart was with her son. Her work was noble, but she recognized what she was missing not being home. God gave me a gift of an unplanned pregnancy, because it altered my life course and gave me His life course instead. I am so grateful that I did not have to make the difficult decision to choose career over child raising. I don’t know if I would have chosen rightly. But God in His grace allowed me to hold my baby in my arms, while studying for finals and getting my degree; all the while recognizing that His plans are higher than mine and the job He had for me was to raise a family. Had I allowed my legal right to dictate what I would do about my unwanted pregnancy, I would be a radically different woman today. But I did what I knew to be true, in spite of my feelings, and I let life live. Today I have a beautiful daughter in college, about the same age I was when she was conceived, who is living to serve God and pursuing her dreams. My dreams continue to be molded by God’s best for me. I may not like the direction it is heading at a given moment, but I can rest knowing that He has a vantage point that I do not and that His eyes see eternity in all directions, while mine only have the past and the present in sight. If I had lived for the moment twenty years ago, lived in the emotion, decided that my selfish legal right was to abort my unwanted pregnancy, not only would I have lived with the guilt of murdering my first-born child, but also, I would have missed out on all that she has brought to my life and to the world. It must be stated that if I had ended this un-planned pregnancy, God in His grace and love would have forgiven me, when I turned to Him in repentance. I recognize God’s hand in my life, in high-definition hind-sight, that He was the strength, when I had no strength of my own, that helped me make the right decision to keep my baby. God gave us a precious daughter which we named Alethia, the Greek word for Truth, as her life has brought Truth into ours.

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But that’s beside the point.

The point is that I don’t wear hose very often because A) they irritate me to death and B) I constantly snag them. I can look at hose from across a room and they snag. So I pretty much don’t wear them unless it’s super cold and/or I have to dress up. I wore them for the first time in front of Ladybug last week. Here’s what happened.

My beloved child rushed up to hug my legs, after all, we’d been separated about 20 minutes. She wrapped her arms around me and then dropped her arms and stepped back a good foot and a half. Ladybug’s face was confused and a bit fascinated. She looked at my legs curiously for a few seconds and then reached back to touch one of them again. She pulled her hand back super quick and looked up at me as if to say, “What’s going on here? Where’s your skin? This looks like skin but it’s not.” This went on for some time as I moved about the room finishing my dressing routine. I thought she was over it.

That afternoon when I picked her up from the babysitter’s house, again Ladybug touched my legs. When we got home, she kept touching them until I took the pantyhose off. Then she touched my real, live skin and a smile broke out on her face a mile wide. She clapped her hands together and grinned at me, completely thrilled that my legs were back and all was well with the world.

Today I wore black tights and she eyeballed me a bit but didn’t feel the need to do a pat down search again.

Celebrity news:

The daughter of Billy Joel, an aspiring musician herself, is speaking out about her December overdose of homeopathic pills. She says it was brought on by a breakup and “heartbreak-related depression.” Now, I don’t know that we need to add “heartbreak-related depression” to the DSM (diagnostic manual of mental disorders), but I can confirm from clinical and first-hand experience that the grief associated with breakups can be profound, so I applaud Ms. Joel for her plan to speak about it to young people in 2010.

It looks like criminal charges are imminent against the physician who prescribed a surgical-strength sedative to Michael Jackson. Expect involuntary manslaughter and probably some lesser charges.

Tila Tequila’s back in the news — her “fiance,” an heiress to the Johnson & Johnson fortune was found dead at her (Ms. Johnson’s) California home, an apparent drug overdose, and there’s since been a series of bizarre “tweets” from the ever-classy Ms. Tequila disavowing any knowledge that Ms. Johnson was in danger.

Mike Tyson’s back in the news as well, another run-in with a photographer in an airport, no charges filed against either party yet. At this point, it’s sad what a train wreck this guy’s life is.

Study this:

A new study of spanking found that spanking does not necessarily turn kids neurotic or psychopathic and that many kids who were spanked have grown up to be highly-functional adults. Now, the group studied wasn’t that large, and the methodology doesn’t sound like it was that great, and I’m not advocating spanking as a disciplinary tactic of first resort, and I certainly never condone violent spanking (spanking that causes more than mild discomfort), BUT, it does on some level seem consistent with what’s occurred to me (and I think to many people who got the occasional spanking and have lived fairly successful lives) whenever previous studies have linked spanking to every horrible outcome from suicide to serial homicide!

Major case developments:

A body found wrapped in plastic in a remote area of Utah is not the body of the missing mother of two who supposedly “disappeared” while her husband took their small kids “camping” in the middle of the night. This body belongs to an as-yet-unidentified Hispanic male.

Before 2010 was even a full week old, we had a mass shooting — disgruntled former employee shooting eight former co-workers at a St. Louis factory, killing three, before turning the gun on himself. Apparently, he was upset about his retirement benefits (second time we’ve heard that in a week — the Las Vegas courthouse shooter apparently had the same motive).

An Arizona baby is missing, his mother is under arrest, and another couple have been named “persons of interest” in the baby’s disappearance. Confused? Apparently the mother didn’t want the baby’s father to have any custodial time with the baby. So, she arranged to give the baby up for adoption to the couple, but then she sent a text message to the baby’s father telling him that she’d killed the baby. Cops caught up with the mother in Florida and took her into custody, but the baby wasn’t with her. She’s since said that she gave the baby away in Texas. The couple, who are from Arizona, have spoken openly to the media and volunteered to take polygraph tests to prove that they never received the child and don’t know where he is (they sound innocent to me, but my data’s limited to soundbytes, so I certainly could be wrong). Nevertheless, cops have indicated that the couple may know more than they’ve told about what the mother’s plans were. On the bright side though, cops also say there are unspecified “indications” that the child’s probably still alive. Still confused? Sorry, stay tuned, and I’ll try to sort it out and get back to you.

The deceased body of a Playboy video model was found on fire in a Miami dumpster. Her boyfriend has been questioned by cops and apparently has been cooperative at this point, but the couple did reportedly argue on the night she was reported missing. Could be innocent, could be another Ryan Jenkins, stay tuned.

And finally tonight, this is “McNuts”:

A woman right here in the Kansas City area apparently was pretty unhappy with her McDonald’s burger — so unhappy that she threw a violent tantrum in which she did over thousands of dollars’ worth of damage to the restaurant before fleeing the scene. No word on whether she got fries with that, but there’s reportedly video surveillance footage that hopefully will lead to her arrest before she tears up another restaurant — one that I might actually be in at the time!

Have a great weekend, see you back here and on the tube next week!

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There has never been enough money to go around during the holiday season. We always have more year, more month, and more day at the end of each paycheck. We always have more Christmas wishes and guests than our finances can afford, and this year our house will be full again with family and friends, full of love and joy. Each year my heart is filled with the desire to make everyone’s wish list come true and an inability to do so; and now I have the most famous guest of all arriving on December twenty-fifth. How am I to prepare of this? The King of the universe is coming to my humble dwelling. Royalty will be sitting on my old couch. Nothing in this house is clean enough for my Lord. Nothing will ever make my home worthy of such an arrival.

A week is all the time I have to clean, bake, decorate and shop.Only a week to prepare for Immanuel. How have the chosen few from Bible stories of old prepared for this type of visitation? The women during Passover so thoroughly clean their homes that no dust remains even in the darkest corners. Do I have time for that? I must! Jesus can’t enter this house with cobwebs in the eaves and fingerprints on the window panes.

What kind of meal should I prepare? Traditional? Gourmet? Or perhaps something Jewish in flavor? It has to be perfect. Nothing less will do! But I am far from a gourmet chef, so perhaps I should have this momentous meal catered. I better get a cookbook, as well as a restaurant guide, when I go to the store. Who will have the honor of sitting on either side of Him at the dining table? Should I draw straws as each family member enters the dining room? Jesus, of course, will sit at the head of the table. We will request His blessing on our feast, whatever we end up eating. Oh, who will monitor the topics of conversation? What if someone says something wrong? What if somehow we dishonor our Guest?

Finally, what kind of gift should I buy? What does a person wrap up in Christmas red and green for the owner of all the cattle on the hills? What could I possibly give the Give of Life?

So you see my dilemma. I am so honored, yet so unworthy, so unready. I have spent three days spring cleaning my home in the dead of winter. It has never been so sanitary. The carpets are clean, the windows Windexed, an the children’s toys have been wiped down and put in the proper places. Any sign of a mess will result in some form of discipline!

All the customary Christmas decorations are put in place. I wondered if I should put any Santa Clause decorations out, or leave them packed away for next year? Is there anything in my traditional Christmas that would offend my Guest?

I now face the challenge of a lifetime, the mission impossible, the task of finding the perfect present for God’s perfect gift to me. Ironically, I end up at the mall with a mass of humanity also looking for their perfect gifts as well. I wander through the shops and realize how ludicrous it is to search here for a gift for God. What would He want from a mall? A tie? a Sweater? After-shave? How about a monogrammed stationary set? I can just see it now, embossed in gold, “GOD” in the center of the page. Perhaps something from His creation would be more appropriate: a perfect poinsettia or basket of fruit might make a lovely gift. Yet after three days of frantic searching, I still haven’t found anything to wrap up for the King of kings. As I sit at the foot of our Christmas tree, looking at all the other gifts, I weep because of the loss I feel not having something for my Savior.

Christmas morning arrived and the children rushed out happily to ransack their stockings. I was caught up in their smiles and happiness as we sat down to read the Christmas Story from the Bible. As the story unfolded, and the children sat quietly listening to the part where the angel told the shepherds about Jesus’ birth, a quiet rap came from the front door. All became silent as we realized Whom the knock represented. I quickly surveyed the room and the children, as my husband and I made our way to the door. Were we ready to welcome the Birthday Guest into our home? Before I could answer the knock however, my youngest child reached the entry way, threw open the door, and jumped into the arms of Jesus.

My heart stopped as I watched Jesus walk through the door with my child hanging on His arm. This wasn’t how I planned this moment. Was Jesus offended by such a rambunctious and an utterly un-worshipful welcome? I was mortified at what it said about my child’s behavior and my parenting!

The moment of entry seemed to last an eternity, until the shrill squeals of my brood restarted the hand of the clock. I realized that I had been holding my breath, as I sharply exhaled. I then caught a glimpse of Jesus’ face and the delighted twinkle in His eyes, as He reached down to touch each child. How I wanted to weep and repent, dance and laugh, at my foolish heart. I recalled the verse in an instant, that says, “Suffer the little children to come unto me and forbid them not.” I had been so worked up about how to make my home, my children and my life acceptable, that I had forgotten that He only requires my love. Nothing more, but my love. All else had been done for me two thousand years ago on the cross.

He looked at me as He entered the room and held His arms open wide. I walked to Him and embraced Him with every ounce of love and devotion a hug could convey. He wiped the tears from my face and led me to the couch. We sat down and Jesus began to tell us about His Christmas Story. We were mesmerized as the familiar Sunday School lesson was told by the Author Himself. Awestruck, the children hardly moved as they listened to Jesus. The perfect Christmas gift sat on our couch and we worshiped Him.

As other guests arrived, the peace, joy and love that permeated our humble home, filled each heart. No other Christmas will equal the one spent with Jesus as the Honored Guest. Never will I forget how He played with the new train set or teasingly put on the princess crown and feather boa. Always will we remember the laughter over Christmas dinner and the reverent thanks offered to God our Father.

However, my greatest memory was the forgiveness, unconditional acceptance and the love His smiling face, twinkling eyes and warm hug conveyed to me. Merry Christmas my Lord! I am honored to have You in my house each and every day!

Written by Mary Selby for her children Christmas 2003.

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In our society, many people compromise their values, beliefs, and morals for wealth, social status, a mate, notoriety, or promotion. I have also seen Christians fall into the trap of situation ethics by compromising their faith, convictions, and even the Word of God in an attempt to fit in. They believe that as long as they don’t commit what they perceive as “major” sins such as murder, adultery, and so on, God will overlook the “little” things such as gossiping, complaining, unforgiveness, or compromising the truth.

Believers must not compromise, even in the midst of changing norms and values. Too many Christians are looking the other way instead of taking a stand against sin. It is our responsibility to uphold God’s Word as the final authority in the earth in these last days and be an example of truth, light, and love to the world. We cannot do that if we are blending in rather than being set apart.

Remember, it’s the “little” foxes that spoil the vine. Therefore, don’t allow your desire to “fit in” or to be popular to cause you to compromise your faith or moral convictions. And don’t manipulate scripture to justify your actions, by trying to make the Bible fit your desires rather than allowing it to transform and renew your mind to its truths. I encourage you to identify the areas in your life where you may be tempted to compromise. Then make a decision to exemplify godly character by doing what’s right because it’s right.

Your feedback and comments are valuable to us and we would love to hear from you. Please e-mail us at CHANGE@worldchangers.org or send your thoughts to:

CHANGE Magazine
Creflo Dollar Ministries
2500 Burdett Road
College Park, GA 30349

Taffi and I love you and pray for you daily. Remember, Jesus is Lord, and “in all your getting, get understanding.”

Christians United for Israel has been a leading supporter of this legislation.  Through our visits to Capitol Hill and our e-mail action alerts, we have made it clear to Congress that America’s Christians support tough economic sanctions against Iran. And Congress has listened.

Congratulations to all of you who have supported CUFI in this effort.  This is an important victory, and you helped;to make it happen!

Nehemiah told those helping him rebuild the walls of Jerusalem that “the work is extensive and spread out, and we are widely separated from each other along the wall. Whenever you hear the sound of the trumpet, join us there. We heard the sound of the trumpet, and we came together in action. Our efforts have been blessed.

Of course, our work is far from over. The bill moves next to the Senate. We will be watching this legislation closely and will let you know when we need your help to ensure that it passes the Senate by the widest possible margin. And we will continue to provide you with other opportunities to speak out against Iran’s threats and aggression, such as our petition to indict Iran’s President Ahmadinejad for incitement to genocide.

Thank you for your support of CUFI and Israel.  Together, we are making a difference.

Blessings to you and those you love.

Pastor John Hagee                              David Brog
National Chairman                               Executive Director
Christians United for Israel              Christians United for Israel

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So yesterday afternoon I put myself to bed for a while. I’ve been struggling with allergies or a maybe it’s a head cold, for several days. The wretched disease worked its way into my eyeballs and they were burning and itching so badly I could barely keep them open.

While I was stretched out on the bed, in the darkened room, Ladybug “comforted” me. She carried babies back and forth to put beside me. She sang me songs. She brushed my hair and finally she read to me. Ladybug has a picture book Bible and from it she read the story of Noah’s Ark.

Here it is, according to Ladybug (imagine this in her little, toddler voice):
build boat
elephants and giraffes
raining
bird
dry
rainbow

Well, she hit all the highlights anyway.

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So maybe Ladybug listens to us after all.

Yesterday morning she tiptoed into our room at 7:09 a.m. I sensed her presence more than heard her. She stood about 1.5 inches from my head and breathed and tried to keep herself from giggling. I knew she was there but I didn’t want to wake up yet. She couldn’t take it and finally whispered, “Mom.” When I didn’t perk up, she said it again, “Mom.”

I opened an eyeball and stared at her but still didn’t speak. Once she had my attention, she was just all wiggly and bouncy and she said “Good morning!” 45 times or so.

She calmed down, realizing I wasn’t joining her enthusiastic greeting of the dawn. She pointed to my alarm clock and said, “one more minute” as I have I don’t know how many mornings. Then she sat on the floor, cross legged to wait.

Ladybug has one doll. She pulls her pants off, tucks her in under a little doll-sized quilt, kisses her face and points to her doll’s nose if asked where it is. (She assumes our short term memory is less than adequate, I think. She always looks at me curiously, sighs and then points AGAIN to the doll’s nose as if to say, “Mommy, it’s right HERE, right where it always is when you ask me. Good grief.”

The doll (who is nameless) lives downstairs in the family room toy box. Yesterday afternoon after playtime I announced it was time for supper. Ladybug jumped up and scurried to the staircase like usual but this time she was carrying her doll. When we mounted the stairs, Ladybug insisted on climbing them herself…while struggling to hold her dolly in her hand. I offered multiple times to carry it for her but she refused. So clutching her baby in one hand, she pulled herself along with the other one, bumping her chin on the steps several times, looking back at me to make sure I was following and dropping her beloved child now and then. Each time I thought she’d go on up without the doll but each time Ladybug stopped and went back for it until we made it all the way to the top. Then she stood up, doll in hand and raced to the high chair.

She and Dolly squirmed impatiently while I prepared her sippy cup of milk. I started piling food on Ladybug’s tray and she quickly realized something. She was out of space. Something had to go.

So despite all her efforts to carry that wild-haired, pink-wearing doll up the stairs…she literally tossed it over the side on to the floor where it landed with a sickening thud. I turned around from the stove to see her look down at it wistfully, then eyeball her fist full of rice and cram the entire thing into her mouth. “MMMMMM,” she said.

Again, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

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On the weekends, if she gets too far ahead of me, I scream out desperately to Michael who pops up to continue the chase while I collapse on the floor, gasping for air and drooling just a little bit. During the week, I’m on my own. Who has time to write when the computer is a mere blur of technology as we scamper by in hot pursuit of the cat or a ball or something I can’t see but which Ladybug can’t stop pointing to or squealing about?

I’m a shell of my former self. The cats are more neurotic than ever (and that’s saying something if you know our finicky felines). We’ve managed to childproof the kitchen and one bathroom but we doubt these pathetic bits of plastic will stop Ladybug for long. She holds on to the cabinet doors and shakes them like she’s The Incredible Hulk. Yesterday, she was quiet for more than 20 seconds which means I’ve dropped the ball and she’s either hanging off the edge of something or drinking poison. I whipped around only to find her staring intently at my hands. I’d been pushing the plastic doo-hickey down so I could access the cabinet. And she knows how I did it. I could literally see her mind working it all out.

Currently, she’s taking a pre-church nap and I need to take a shower. I just wanted to check in with you, to let you know we are alive but just barely. I can’t believe we actually encouraged her to learn this new skill. What in the world were we thinking?

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