King's Daughters

I am so excited! I could harly wait to get onto my computer and share this awesome news with you. Eric invited me to speak at our church today in anticipation of the launch of my book, Secure on the Rock.   You can pre-order it on Amazon.co.uk for a reducded price and it is already availalbe for my USA friends on Amazon.com .  My talk consisted mostly of what you will read in the book with a few extra bits, you can have a listen to it here . The exciting news though, is that the girl that I mentioned in my post a few weeks ago accepted Jesus today. My hearted raced as I did the altar call at the end of my message and I nearly jumped for joy when I saw her hand go up! Thank you so much to everyone that has been praying for her and please keep praying for her in the weeks to come.

This is one of my all time favourite books. Nevertheless is John Kirkby’s story of the adventure of starting Christians Against Poverty.  In 1996 John and Lizzie Kirkby set out on a faith adventure. John felt God call him to give up his successful career in the finance industry to do what he could to help the poor and needy in his home town of Bradford.  John did what he was best at and devised simple budgeting systems that allowed people to reduce their debt whilst living a decent life. In doing this John found that he could share the life transforming faith he himself had experienced some four years earlier, and people’s lives were changed before his very eyes.   Get a free copy of this book by leaving a comment about anything that has stretched your faith in the past.  If you would like to support the awesome work of CAP make a donation here or to find out more about how they can help you with your finances go here .

Being pieced back together Being rescued by my prince Jesus was amazing; it was the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. I often remember that day, 1 September, with great fondness. My hero, reached down from heaven, and swept me off my feet, rescuing me from the evil clutches of sin and death. He did it with style and flair, with all the things I needed to make it really memorable. He didn’t need to do it that way I am sure He could have done it a million other ways, but He chose to make it memorable in a way that was special to me. Not only does my prince rescue but He also redeems. The word ‘redeem’ means to buy back, trade or exchange. My prince didn’t come down from heaven and steal me back to himself. No! He paid a high price for me. He exchanged His life for mine; He paid for my life with His. Not only did he redeem my life but He also redeemed the lost years from my past and He redeemed my entire future too. He bought back what I had thrown away to the pi

Being rescued by my Prince Her long, shiny, blond hair blew in the wind as she screamed a desperate scream of anguish. Within seconds, the handsome prince rode up on his white stead. His sharp, glistening sword immediately severed the ropes setting the princess free, rescuing her from the evil clutches of the nasty, foul smelling tyrant. The handsome prince swept the princess off her feet and onto his stead and off they both rode into the sunset. They both lived happily ever after in their beautiful castle on the hill. For me it didn’t quite happen like that but it DID happen! Fairly tales are real and princes do rescue princesses and life is a great, big, magical adventure! Here are some journal entries from my romantic story of intrigue, romance and rescue from the evil clutches of my tormentor. These entries are from a time before I had ever met Eric, from a time where I was recovering from a few relationships that had turned out badly. I was a broken woman, a single moth

I was restless last night, she was on my mind. So young, so pretty and so lost. Earlier in the day I had emailed someone who had known her for years to find out a bit more about her, but his response only confirmed the rumours. Still I wasn't satisfied. Something simply doesn't add up! In the day time she goes to college but eats with the homeless people wherever there is free food, on Sundays she comes to church but despite explaining the gospel in every possible way, she still hasn't accepted Jesus into her life. At night she walks the streets and sells her body for money but I can't figure out why as she lives at home with her parents.  I remember the first time I met her, she seemed really sweet. A bit shy but nothing seemed unusual. More than a year has passed and her story has slowly unfolded. She has joined us for dinner and parties at our home, she has come to our children's birthday parties and family celebrations, she comes to church every Sunday

Discovering my daddy’s delight in me It was a crisp, sunny, spring afternoon in the tiny, dusty town where I lived. This wasn’t just any spring afternoon; this was the 3 September 1991 at about 1 o’ clock. This very specific spring morning I was flat on my back on the hospital bed insisting that the baby was on its way. I pleaded most urgently with anyone nearby that they should get the doctor! The nurse walked into the hospital room and again I insisted that the baby was on its way. She took one look at me and said; “No it’s not; you still have several hours to go.” She promptly turned around and walked out of the room completely dismissing my plea. She wasn’t mean or anything, it was just that she assumed that I knew nothing about labour or child birth as I was only seventeen years old, a child in her eyes. Again I pleaded and insisted that the baby was coming, so for the sake of peace and quiet the nurse came and took a look. Her countenance dropped and she sent for the do

Freedom from controlling insecurity Despite growing up with the absence of a healthy male role model I still longed for romance and the big adventure. As a little girl I found it in my childish games with my dolls or by acting out movies in the back garden, where I was the gorgeous leading lady in a romantic, adventurous soap opera. As a teenager I searched for love in boys, hoping that one of them would notice me for who I really was and that he would treat me like a princess. Many boyfriends came and went and I realised that this fairy tale was never going to be a reality. Slowly I gave up, and submitted to the harsh reality that I was not a princess but perhaps merely a prostitute. Harsh? Yes, perhaps that is a very strong word to use but it was definitely how I felt most of the time. I would trade sex for just a drop of love, I would use my body to fill the deep, dark void in my heart. I would lay there and take it in the hope that at the end I might get a cuddle.  Sure, I w