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- Apr 25, 2006
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The Word 4U 2day
You are significant
'WHOSE WEAKNESS WAS TURNED TO STRENGTH.' HEBREWS 11:34
Joni Eareckson Tada tells the story 'Every morning Connie opens Diane's door to begin the long routine of exercising and bathing her paralyzed friend. The sun's rays slant through the blinds, washing the room in a golden glow. The folds of the covers haven't moved since Connie pulled them up around Diane the night before. Yet she can tell her friend has been awake for awhile. 'Are you ready to get up yet?' 'No...not yet,' comes the weak reply from under the covers. Connie sighs, smiles and clicks shut the door. The story is the same every new day at Connie and Diane's apartment.
Sunrise stretches into mid-morning by the time Diane is ready to sit up in her wheel chair. But those long hours in bed are significant. In her quiet sanctuary Diane turns her head slightly on the pillow, toward the corkboard on the wall. Her eyes scan each photo. Every torn piece of paper carefully pinned in a row. She's praying. The creeping limitations of multiple sclerosis encroach further each year. Her fingers are curled and rigid. Her voice is barely a whisper. People might look at her and say, 'What a shame. Her life has no meaning.' But Diane is convinced that her life is significant; that her labour of prayer counts.
She moves mountains that block the paths of missionaries; helps open the eyes of the spiritually blind in Southeast Asia, pushes back the kingdom of darkness that blackens the alleys of the gangs in East Los Angeles Diane is on the front lines, advancing the Kingdom of God. This woman sees her place in the world. It doesn't matter that others may not recognize her significance, she is a child of the King'.
written by Bob Gass
You are significant
'WHOSE WEAKNESS WAS TURNED TO STRENGTH.' HEBREWS 11:34
Joni Eareckson Tada tells the story 'Every morning Connie opens Diane's door to begin the long routine of exercising and bathing her paralyzed friend. The sun's rays slant through the blinds, washing the room in a golden glow. The folds of the covers haven't moved since Connie pulled them up around Diane the night before. Yet she can tell her friend has been awake for awhile. 'Are you ready to get up yet?' 'No...not yet,' comes the weak reply from under the covers. Connie sighs, smiles and clicks shut the door. The story is the same every new day at Connie and Diane's apartment.
Sunrise stretches into mid-morning by the time Diane is ready to sit up in her wheel chair. But those long hours in bed are significant. In her quiet sanctuary Diane turns her head slightly on the pillow, toward the corkboard on the wall. Her eyes scan each photo. Every torn piece of paper carefully pinned in a row. She's praying. The creeping limitations of multiple sclerosis encroach further each year. Her fingers are curled and rigid. Her voice is barely a whisper. People might look at her and say, 'What a shame. Her life has no meaning.' But Diane is convinced that her life is significant; that her labour of prayer counts.
She moves mountains that block the paths of missionaries; helps open the eyes of the spiritually blind in Southeast Asia, pushes back the kingdom of darkness that blackens the alleys of the gangs in East Los Angeles Diane is on the front lines, advancing the Kingdom of God. This woman sees her place in the world. It doesn't matter that others may not recognize her significance, she is a child of the King'.
written by Bob Gass
