<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:51:14.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'>estiemarie</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-7676140928274730955</id><published>2010-02-04T11:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T11:59:11.755-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Psalm 71</title><content type='html'>The Lord has been teaching me so much about spiritual warfare and how involved we really are in the battle. The more I am aware it seems the stronger the attacks. What is interesting is I know in the end we are the victorious ones. I know that in the end I am on the side that is going to win, Christ already revealed to us that we would win. Yet, it is so easy to feel defeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Satan is such a good liar. He wants to take the treasures of our hearts and give them a death sentence! He wants to kill, steal, and destroy our lives! He doesn't want the Kingdom to advance, he loves to see us complacent! He already has those who don't believe, but he wants to hinder those that do from advancing at all. Somehow... through the power of only Christ, we have to overcome this scumbag of a prince! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord may it be so in my life! Show me freedom! Give me victory! Please help me to see your truth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psalm 71 has been my prayer today,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O Lord, you are my refuge; never let me be disgraced. Rescue me! Save me from my enemies, for you are just. Be to me a protecting rock of safety, where I am always welcome. Give the order to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My God, rescue me from the power of the wicked, from the clutches of cruel oppressors. O Lord, you alone are my hope. I've trusted you, O Lord, from childhood. Yes, you have been with me from birth; from my mother's womb you have cared for me. No wonder I am always praising you! &lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection. That is why I can never stop praising you; I declare your glory all day long. And now, in my old age, don't set me aside. Don't abandon me when my strength is failing. For my enemies are whispering against me. They are plotting together to kill me. They say, 'God has abandoned him. Let's go and get him, for there is no one to help him now.' &lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;O God, don't stay away. My God, please hurry to help me. Bring disgrace and destruction on those who accuse me. May humiliation and shame cover those who want to harm me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I will keep on hoping for you to help me; I will praise you more and more. I will tell everyone about your righteousness. All day long I will proclaim your saving power, for I am overwhelmed by how much you have done for me. I will praise your mighty deeds, O Sovereign Lord. I will tell everyone that you alone are just and good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O God, you have taught me from my earliest childhood, and I have constantly told others about the wonderful things you do. Now that I am old and gray, do not abandon me, O God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me proclaim your power to this new generation, your mighty miracles to all who come after me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your righteousness, O God, reaches to the highest heavens. You have done such &lt;br /&gt;wonderful things. Who can compare with you, O God? You have allowed me to &lt;br /&gt;suffer much hardship, but you will restore me to life again and lift me up from &lt;br /&gt;the depths of the earth. You will restore me to even greater honor and comfort &lt;br /&gt;me once again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I will praise you with music on the harp, because you are faithful to your promises, O God. I will sing for you with a lyre, O Holy One of Israel. I will shout for joy and sing your praises, for you have redeemed me. I will tell about your righteous deeds all day long, for everyone who tried to hurt me has been shamed and humiliated."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus! Bring your kingdom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-7676140928274730955?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/7676140928274730955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=7676140928274730955' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/7676140928274730955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/7676140928274730955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2010/02/psalm-71.html' title='Psalm 71'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-1517407981887693568</id><published>2009-10-29T05:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T05:47:59.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Loss and Legacy</title><content type='html'>I am learning the gift of a legacy. Legacies have been given to me all my life, but I guess I haven’t really understood their worth until the one giving it to me has died. When death happens, most of me wants to beat the ground and scream to the heavens that they don’t know what they are doing up there and are only out to get me. I wallow in the “what ifs” and “if onlys” for what seems like a lifetime, until I can finally consider that maybe this was “God’s will.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, was it? Did he ever intend death? In his perfect beginning, when all creation stood naked before him did death even exist? Did he ever intend love to be separated? Could my grief be even a fraction of what God felt the day Adam and Eve took a bite from that juicy piece of fruit? The Lord watched as his creation abandoned their trust in him for only a few moments costing them a lifetime of separation from the physical presents of their creator, costing countless their eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord’s original plan had to be rewritten with death in the picture. The earth had to become a battleground rather than a utopia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there must be something significant to these unbearable emotions that He would let us feel them, right? Such strong emotion, that if pressed into with fervency could make you sweat blood! Even the giver of life, who came down in the flesh, wept for the loss of Lazarus, when he knew he’d see him again in Heaven, and at a simple command would raise his friend to new life again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We try to pat dry our tears, find something to make us happy, or feel better about ourselves so that we don’t have to face the unnatural part of life. Maybe it is because we know if we give into those tears that we just might see how inadequate we are, and we don’t know when the tears will stop. That if we submit to the sorrow we’ll see that we aren’t in control, and that we never were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As long as we are stuck in this mindset we won’t know Christ as our hope. In our fallen state, we have been reconciled to God by the blood of Jesus. Where once death could separate us it no longer can! The death of Christ is symbolic of every child of God’s death. God saw our mess and picked it up for us and he is recruiting us to help bring back his original plan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-1517407981887693568?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/1517407981887693568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=1517407981887693568' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/1517407981887693568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/1517407981887693568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/10/loss-and-legacy.html' title='Loss and Legacy'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-2366136857448485720</id><published>2009-10-27T07:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T08:21:14.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QFdeOT3lzqc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QFdeOT3lzqc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x234900&amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Song by Misty Edwards is the prayer of my heart!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-2366136857448485720?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/2366136857448485720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=2366136857448485720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/2366136857448485720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/2366136857448485720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/10/httpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-2876985167954417219</id><published>2009-10-25T05:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-25T05:39:44.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sparrows</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I wish I could capture what I am seeing now. It is sparrows; they are flying above and around me. They climb towards the sky and then dive, flirting with the open space their master gave them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching them I think of Matthew 10:29-31 (NIV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. 30And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 220px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396516112730851314" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SuRG0AP-h_I/AAAAAAAAAFk/r9IyxtXnF14/s320/sparrows.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I’m forced to ask the question, “Why do I fear so much?” The King of the universe holds my heart in the palm of his hand! I have room to dance, to sing, to delight in the beauty of each new day I encounter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Bless the Lord! Bless His holy name! All you people rejoice!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-2876985167954417219?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/2876985167954417219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=2876985167954417219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/2876985167954417219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/2876985167954417219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/10/sparrows.html' title='Sparrows'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SuRG0AP-h_I/AAAAAAAAAFk/r9IyxtXnF14/s72-c/sparrows.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-3487838416591298443</id><published>2009-10-17T03:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T03:58:34.948-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Called to Pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Today in my team devotional book I read Genesis 12:1-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Then the Lord told Abram, 'Leave your country, your relatives, and your father's house, and go to the land that I will show you. I will cause you to become the father of a great nation. I will bless you and make you famous, and I will make you a blessing to others. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you. All the families of the earth will be blessed through you.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Abram departed as the Lord had instructed him, and Lot went with him, Abram was seventy-five years old when he left Haran. He took his wife, Sarai, his nephew Lot, and all his wealth - his livestock and all the people who had joined his household at Haran - and finally arrived in Canaan. Traveling through Canaan, they came to a place near Shechem and set up camp beside the oak at Morch. At that time, the area was inhabited by Canaanites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Stmi1qmI4sI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PsPg-wgCLxA/s1600-h/abraham-altar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393521071603901122" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Stmi1qmI4sI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PsPg-wgCLxA/s320/abraham-altar.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the Lord appeared to Abram and said, 'I am going to give this land to your offspring.' And Abram built an altar there to commemorate the Lord's visit. After that, Abram traveled southward and set up camp in the hill country between Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. The he built an altar and worshiped the Lord. "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For most of us girls reading this we meditate on the first verse that speaks about leaving the comforts of our country/home for another, because that is in fact what we have done. But, today that is not what got my attention. It was more towards the end, the part about the altar in verse 7 and 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if Abram used this altar for a burnt offering, but I am imagining that He did. As we all know the Lord used to require a burnt offering. Usually the finest lamb, fortunately Christ took this place and we don’t have to anymore, however He does want our hearts. Sometimes I wish I could just give Him a lamb and save the risk of lying flat on his table, heart completely exposed to whatever He wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I have learned this far is that Christ is calling me to a place of pain. He is wooing my heart into brokenness. When I first realized what He was doing I was completely resistant and fearful. As the Lord beckoned me to his side one of my favorite passages came to mind, Hosea 2:14-17:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“But then I will win her back once again. I will lead her out into the desert and speak tenderly to her there. I will return her vineyards to her and transform the Valley of Trouble into a gateway of hope. She will give herself to me there, as she did long ago when she was young, when I freed her from captivity in Egypt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“In that coming day,” says the Lord. “you will call me ‘my husband’ instead of ‘my master.’ O Israel, I will cause you to forget your images of Baal; even their names will no longer be spoken.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of this brokenness process has involved me having to lay down the promises Christ has for me. Though he has promised me beautiful things in life I have to lay down my crown, my rights, for the love of my King. I like to compare it to having a child. Often at baby dedications you hear the pastor recite to the proud new parents the meaning of dedicating their child back into the hands of God. That this gift of life that was given to them, ultimately belongs to Christ. The Lord has given me such gifts, not babies, but things that are just as precious to me at this point in my life, but he is asking that I give them back to Him. Though His promises will remain, I have to learn to give up my rights to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I just want to scream at God, “Aren’t you finished with me yet! Cause I want to be finished with you!” I get so warn out, but my heart cannot resist the Lord, I feel his pursuit and hate my resistance. I belong to Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am in Africa trying to make the best altar possible; loading all of my dreams, one on top of the other, ready to light the match at his signal. What a scary process. It breaks my heart, but I do it for the joy that is set before me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christ knew all along He would have to die for us. He knew that he would lie on the altar. He feared it, but He did it for the joy set before Him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-3487838416591298443?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/3487838416591298443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=3487838416591298443' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/3487838416591298443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/3487838416591298443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/10/called-to-pain.html' title='Called to Pain'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Stmi1qmI4sI/AAAAAAAAAFc/PsPg-wgCLxA/s72-c/abraham-altar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-4525354989497981528</id><published>2009-10-01T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T07:07:31.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear Precious Baby, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today you were born into the worst situation known to man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Mom has AIDS, and your Dad already died of AIDS.&lt;br /&gt;They can’t do the blood test on you until your eighteen months old, but there is a small chance it will be negative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have two older siblings. Your older sister, who is eight, will take care of you for the most part. She’ll strap you to her back and hold your five year old brothers hand taking you both through the crowded main street of town &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SsTTC4Rv93I/AAAAAAAAAFU/Q99pY9KEZHc/s1600-h/September+212.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 287px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387663100661987186" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SsTTC4Rv93I/AAAAAAAAAFU/Q99pY9KEZHc/s320/September+212.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;to sell the mandazi your mother made early in the morning while you still slept. Your mother hopes this will bring in money for some corn meal that will give her family the sense of fullness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are two your abdomen will likely protrude. You'll be malnourished. You may get a meal a day. At night you will lay next to your mother on the hard dirt floor. She has no more milk for you; life no longer pours out of her. She is thin, and pained at your touch. You will watch her die and hear your sister and brother crying, wondering who will take care of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who will take care of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may end up on the streets. You might be separated from your siblings. But, one thing for sure, you will be orphaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you don’t even know all this yet. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SsTTCru6fHI/AAAAAAAAAFM/lcYoAtFq35g/s1600-h/September+209.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 277px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387663097294650482" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SsTTCru6fHI/AAAAAAAAAFM/lcYoAtFq35g/s320/September+209.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So rest precious baby. Rest because you do not know you are orphaned. Let the sorrows of this world not steal the peace you have now in your mothers arms.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-4525354989497981528?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/4525354989497981528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=4525354989497981528' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/4525354989497981528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/4525354989497981528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/10/dear-precious-baby-today-you-were-born.html' title=''/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SsTTC4Rv93I/AAAAAAAAAFU/Q99pY9KEZHc/s72-c/September+212.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-7692548042937950590</id><published>2009-09-25T12:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T14:01:07.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was a glorious day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However it didn't start out that way. The rest of the team was supposed to go on a field trip today and I was going to stay back at our compound to work on some online exams. However, fifteen minutes after they left they came walking back in the door saying "we got to our field trip and found out it was cancelled, so we are having class in 30 minutes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instantly my attitude was just extremely negative. I had my day figured out, I was going to catch up on work and now we were going to have class and a activity in the afternoon. I am not good at hiding how I'm feeling, the emotion just seems to wear itself on my face, in the furrow of my forehead, in the glare of my eyes, I'm my mother's daughter:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to class, tried positive self talk for a while, but the negativity stuck with me for the most part. We ate lunch and took a quick trip to the market for a couple items in town. When we got back we got ready for a trip to the village that is set just behind our compound. I wasn't looking forward to this because of the numerous things on my to do list, but I had wanted to visit that village for a while because of the kids that go to our church who live out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we walked across the land between our home and theirs we began to hear squeels and laughter. Children were excited! They ran into the girls arms infront of me and instantly befrien&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0jeHS40bI/AAAAAAAAAEs/iJffIHXHI_Y/s1600-h/IMG_3029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385499729666298290" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0jeHS40bI/AAAAAAAAAEs/iJffIHXHI_Y/s320/IMG_3029.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ded us. A little girl named Ivy let me hold her and carry her for a while before I jumped into a riveting game of soccer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the middle of our soccer game I saw a little boy pushing a metal rim, from a car or motorcycle, rolling it in the middle of the game. One of the older boys scooted the boy off the field and showed him where he could play. I decided I was going to make friends with him. So I took the medal rim and rolled it to the boy, who without a smile or comment picked it up and rolled it back to me. We probably played this game for 30 or 45 minutes, and during this time &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0t7Vemg3I/AAAAAAAAAE8/1gcSvo5_2JA/s1600-h/IMG_3040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385511226806010738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0t7Vemg3I/AAAAAAAAAE8/1gcSvo5_2JA/s320/IMG_3040.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I couldn't help but think back to the one child I bonded with the most in Kenya 6 years ago, his name was Mato, but that is another story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while Prof. Lovett asked us if we'd like to go further into the village. I put my arms down to the small boy and asked if he wanted to come with me. Whether he understood me or not I'm not sure, however I picked him up and he held onto me if I tried to put him down so I assumed that meant he wanted to go with me. His clothes were dirty, his nose runny, I had to use his shirt to wipe some of the mucous away. As we stood and talked to some of the villagers he started to lean his head on my shoulder and before long had become dead weight in my arms, sleeping like a rock. Oh there is no &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0vLr5VfZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/IPHnjs4a2Ek/s1600-h/IMG_3071.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385512607213256082" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0vLr5VfZI/AAAAAAAAAFE/IPHnjs4a2Ek/s320/IMG_3071.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;greater feeling than to hold a small life in my hands that is trusting me that I will take care of them and love them. I savored those moments with the precious child up until it was time I had to give him back to his family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot about my bad attitude at the end of it. I had the time of my life rolling an old motorcycle rim with a boy who wouldn't talk or smile and fell asleep in my arms. I hope I can hold more of those babies and pray that someday they will know the face of our savior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Thank you Jesus for that precious boys life, please protect him and use him for your kingdom in a mighty way, Amen.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-7692548042937950590?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/7692548042937950590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=7692548042937950590' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/7692548042937950590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/7692548042937950590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/09/today-was-glorious-day-however-it-didnt.html' title=''/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sr0jeHS40bI/AAAAAAAAAEs/iJffIHXHI_Y/s72-c/IMG_3029.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-8401489879981024865</id><published>2009-09-20T03:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-20T04:16:36.861-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today at Muchipapa Pilgrim Wesleyan Church a choir of woman rose and sang for the congregation. It was powerful! Throughout the whole song woman in the congregation sitting down cheered in their Zambian way, "AY AY AY AY AY!!!" I kept thinking what awesome woman of the Lord! I want to be more like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend on my team sent this prayer to me in an email. I love the picture this prayer paints and I am praying this for the woman in my life, on my team and myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrYMmdYC5AI/AAAAAAAAAEc/gungeas1_Yo/s1600-h/Mother+Tereasa.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 250px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383504259428049922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrYMmdYC5AI/AAAAAAAAAEc/gungeas1_Yo/s320/Mother+Tereasa.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please make us dangerous women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we be women who acknowledge our power to change, and grow, and be radically alive for God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we be healers of wounds and righters of wrongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we weep with those who weep and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we cherish children, embrace the elderly, and empower the poor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we pray deeply and teach wisely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we be strong and gentle leaders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we sing songs of joy and talk down fear. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrYLXbUITYI/AAAAAAAAAEU/xNdp3YKjj98/s1600-h/Praying+Women.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383502901665090946" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrYLXbUITYI/AAAAAAAAAEU/xNdp3YKjj98/s320/Praying+Women.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we never hesitate to let passion push us, conviction compel us, and righteous anger energize us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we strike fear into all that is unjust and evil in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we dismantle abusive systems and silence lies with truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we shine like stars in a darkened generation.&lt;br /&gt;May we overflow with goodness in the name of God and by the power of Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And in that name and by that power, may we change the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear God, please make us dangerous women.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amen."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-8401489879981024865?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/8401489879981024865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=8401489879981024865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/8401489879981024865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/8401489879981024865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/09/today-at-muchipapa-pilgrim-wesleyan.html' title=''/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrYMmdYC5AI/AAAAAAAAAEc/gungeas1_Yo/s72-c/Mother+Tereasa.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-5257144158227689828</id><published>2009-09-19T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T06:05:45.465-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I am meditating on the story in John 5:1-9 about the lame man by the pool. Whenever I read this story I want to cry because it is such a remarkably touching story of faith and endurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Afterward Jesus returned to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish holy days. Inside the city, near the Sheep gate, was the pool of Bethesd, with five covered porches. Crowds of sick people - blind, lame, or paralyzed - lay on the porches. One of the men lying there had been sick for thirty- eight years. When Jesus saw him and knew how long he had been ill, he asked him, 'Would you like to get well?' 'I can't sir,' the sick man said, 'for I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred up. While I am trying to get there, someone elses always gets in ahead of me.' Jesus told him, 'Stand up, pick up your sleeping mat, and walk!' Instantly, the man was healed! He rolled up the mat and began walking!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrTW7zy5S-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/IeXJ0gBAMNw/s1600-h/man+at+the+pool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 270px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383163777618889698" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrTW7zy5S-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/IeXJ0gBAMNw/s320/man+at+the+pool.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I have struggled with self-hatred, doubt, and fear, for a long time and I can see the affects of how it has crippled my soul disguising how it truly should be. I want my inner self to shine as it should be for my original design, the one ment for Eden, to radiate with life. I can't remember not struggling with this and it just makes me wonder, "Lord when will this end? Can you please free me?" But, I am encouraged by this lame man. He didn't give up, after 38 YEARS! This man still desired his original design! It has been many years for me too, but I hope that everyday Christ will find me at the well waiting for his touch. I don't plan on giving up, though there are days I feel completely defeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are you crippled? May you lay it at the “pool” trust he will bring healing…..in time, but when he does, it will be instant! Praise God!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-5257144158227689828?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/5257144158227689828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=5257144158227689828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/5257144158227689828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/5257144158227689828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-meditating-on-story-in-john-51-9.html' title=''/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrTW7zy5S-I/AAAAAAAAAD8/IeXJ0gBAMNw/s72-c/man+at+the+pool.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-7226454319729665180</id><published>2009-09-17T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T10:47:41.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://images.google.co.zm/imgres?imgurl=http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-KdEEI0t6H4/SClhQEPd6KI/AAAAAAAAAUo/idbyfj_61Co/s320/black%2Bmamba.jpg&amp;amp;imgrefurl=http://fundamentallyunsound.blogspot.com/2008/05/black-mamba-360.html&amp;amp;usg=__ypJxnaCGhy2b34M4U39oXLjyPZ0=&amp;amp;h=320&amp;amp;w=304&amp;amp;sz=16&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;start=66&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;tbnid=cGl9xjTFEbAp2M:&amp;amp;tbnh=118&amp;amp;tbnw=112&amp;amp;prev=/images%3Fq%3Dblack%2BMamba%26ndsp%3D21%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26start%3D63%26um%3D1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;September 17, 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I woke up at 7am. I made my way off the top bunk and was greeted by Haley. “Estie, we killed a black momba!” I don’t know what a black momba is, but I think it’s bad from the way it sounds. “It’s super poisonous, if you get bit you’ll die in 7 minutes!” She explained. That’s pleasant news to wake up to. This entire past week we have been educated on the dangerous things around us, and now I just learned that we are sharing quarters with one of the deadliest snakes. Well, I’ve made it a week; I hope I make it until November 23rd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrJ1B0ePs9I/AAAAAAAAAD0/wN_slKJqL_w/s1600-h/Black+Mamba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 118px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 124px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382493178786984914" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrJ1B0ePs9I/AAAAAAAAAD0/wN_slKJqL_w/s320/Black+Mamba.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned one of the girls on my team had slid on a rug and landed directly next to the snake that could have taken her life in a second, especially since it was a baby black momba and apparently they dispense all their poison upon biting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately the missionary who lives on site was there and killed it by throwing a rug on the snake followed by a rock and her stomping body. We now call her the “Snake Warrior.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began to reflect on everything that I hope to return home to and how awful it would be to not to see my loved ones again. It has been a week and I already miss Brian terribly and cannot imagine what the next nine weeks of distance will do to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have no anti-venom if one of us were to get bit. And apparently there are many black mambas in our area.&lt;br /&gt;Today for class we focused a lot on our schedule and then debriefed the snake incident. Prof. Leslie shared some difficult stories from her experience as a former missionary to Africa and how she had seen many Africans die from snake bites. I felt so fearful. A few of us girls started crying and then we decided we should pray for safety. It was good to commit ourselves into the Lord’s hands again, however it is a constant process for me. I am scared, I want to live a long life, have lots of babies, and be a wife, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please pray for our safety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” – Luke 10:19&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estie&lt;a href="http://images.google.co.zm/imgres?imgurl=http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-KdEEI0t6H4/SClhQEPd6KI/AAAAAAAAAUo/idbyfj_61Co/s320/black%2Bmamba.jpg&amp;amp;imgrefurl=http://fundamentallyunsound.blogspot.com/2008/05/black-mamba-360.html&amp;amp;usg=__ypJxnaCGhy2b34M4U39oXLjyPZ0=&amp;amp;h=320&amp;amp;w=304&amp;amp;sz=16&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;start=66&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;tbnid=cGl9xjTFEbAp2M:&amp;amp;tbnh=118&amp;amp;tbnw=112&amp;amp;prev=/images%3Fq%3Dblack%2BMamba%26ndsp%3D21%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26start%3D63%26um%3D1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-7226454319729665180?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/7226454319729665180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=7226454319729665180' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/7226454319729665180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/7226454319729665180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/09/september-17-2009-today-i-woke-up-at.html' title=''/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/SrJ1B0ePs9I/AAAAAAAAAD0/wN_slKJqL_w/s72-c/Black+Mamba.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-8844048314536116815</id><published>2009-09-13T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T13:29:01.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Zambia</title><content type='html'>I am in the beautiful country of Zambia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a lot of fun and I am excited to share this experience with 15 other students who love the Lord and are just as excited as me for this opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first couple days of orientation and first day here has been an information overload for sure, however information we all need to know and be aware of. I found out when we got here that we were not allowed to wear tanktops, which is unfortunate, as that is a major part of my wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my family and Brian so much already, but I know distance makes the heart grow fonder:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to all of you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-8844048314536116815?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/8844048314536116815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=8844048314536116815' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/8844048314536116815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/8844048314536116815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/09/zambia.html' title='Zambia'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-3746311167941416722</id><published>2009-04-30T20:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T05:38:22.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poverty In My Life</title><content type='html'>I'm doing a personal study on poverty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got a book called &lt;em&gt;Make Poverty Personal: Taking Poverty as Seriously as the Bible&lt;/em&gt; the author identifies poverty as not having the means to live as God intends; when one is unable to live in 'shalom" and cannot without outside help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have been reading this book I have also been praying for an experience with poverty, that I would personally experience it in my life. It's kind of like praying for patience as soon as the Lord begins to answer the prayer you beg for it to end:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been planning a trip home to Georgia for my youngest sister's graduation. My boyfriend and I worked out our route and made plans to stop in North Carolina to see friends for a day. We packed my car and hit the road. Thirty minutes into our trip my car loses power. We were already two hours late leaving I hadn't planned on any delays. After thirty minutes of debate we turned the car around and headed to the auto shop. Two hours later we were given the diagnosis, it needed a new piece and a new timing belt. We were encouraged not to drive to Georgia. Sad day:(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we packed all our stuff into Brian's car before dropping my car off back to the autoshop. The bad news was, Brian still needed an oil change. Our tab was getting bigger by the minute. We got to Jiffy Lube where we added some more time to our ever lengthening road trip. I cried out some woes to Brian about how I just wanted to be in Georgia and I just didn't know how I was going to afford more work on my car and a trip to Georgia! He responded, "Estie is there anything you have been praying about lately that might have something to do with our situation now?" He had to ask. "YES!" I exclaimed, "I've been praying that I'd experience poverty." Brian said he thought we should pray so there in Jiffy Lube we did. I prayed that God would meet all my financial needs and that if he wanted he could stop making me experience poverty. While my brilliant boyfriend began praying passionately that the Lord would make him experience poverty too! I slapped him in the arm, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" We can't afford to experience anymore, we get the point. 'Lord, he takes that back!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We laughed and embraced and decided to find joy in our taste of poverty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am discovering that poverty does not only affect you financially, but you can be impoverished in your spirit. Though it may sound strong, but I have used it multiple times to describe my heart to the Lord. I cry out to him, "Lord my heart is impoverished without you! I am stuck here if you don't move in my life." If I didn't have Jesus I would not be living even close to the shalom that I am in now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-3746311167941416722?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/3746311167941416722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=3746311167941416722' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/3746311167941416722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/3746311167941416722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/04/poverty-in-my-life.html' title='Poverty In My Life'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-1046770909115949909</id><published>2009-04-08T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T22:09:57.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Living out Covenant</title><content type='html'>I saw the sweetest thing yesterday. I was jogging on my school indoor trac when an elderly couple walked in. The husband balanced his wobbling wife a nearby bench where he helped her to sit down. The husband tightened her shoes and helped her stretch her legs&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sd0FaJzUUUI/AAAAAAAAADs/nM2K6fRV8Gs/s1600-h/elderly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322416281487692098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sd0FaJzUUUI/AAAAAAAAADs/nM2K6fRV8Gs/s320/elderly.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and then they stood up to begin their first lap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working in the hospital you come to recognize a stroke victim by their sometimes slurred speech, one side of their face usually droops a bit and their mental status slower as they are less capable to comprehend often basic information. I gathered this was the case for this particular woman. Her left leg seemed more hesitant to move in rhythm with her right her and her smile was slightly slanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her husband walked her to the inside lane of the trac and let go of her hand. She began walking with impressive speed for a stroke victim and her arms moved in rhythm with each determined step she took. The husband fell in step behind her. He watched her carefully, each step she took, and was ready to catch her if she fell. My eyes watered at this picture of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I imagined what it was like for them fourty or so years ago to commit to a lifetime together. I thought of their love story and thought about how many times they have looked into each others eyes full of love and acceptance. I wondered when she had her stroke and how so much beauty was injured, but realized the beauty that was birthed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart was overwhelmed with love for this couple that lived up to the covenant they made with each other however many years ago at the alter. This man understood the meaning of his vows, "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall Live." I feel there are many couples that when a challenge to their marriage happens, be it a stroke, difference of opinion, repeating arguments, etc. the marriage just falls apart. I am grateful that this couple walked out their covenant on the trac and that I could witness it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-1046770909115949909?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/1046770909115949909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=1046770909115949909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/1046770909115949909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/1046770909115949909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/04/living-out-covenant.html' title='Living out Covenant'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sd0FaJzUUUI/AAAAAAAAADs/nM2K6fRV8Gs/s72-c/elderly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-4979916253605815098</id><published>2009-03-17T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T09:41:24.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spiritual Circumcision</title><content type='html'>In complete honesty I have been struggling with some heavy sin. I am also learning to face the consequences of my actions. Sin is such a putrid thing!!! It takes everything pure and holy in your life and twists it up, disfiguring it so that what was once good is unrecognizable and feelings of heavy regret overwhelm your soul. You find yourself crying in bed like King David soaking your pillows with tears. I feel like once I thought I have finally learned my lesson, I fail AGAIN! How can I let sin have this much power over me? Where I willfully choose it? Oh how it grieves my soul, but I can only imagine what it does to the heart of my maker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it funny how sometimes when you are dealing with some deep life issues it seems everything in chapel, or church sermons are pointed directly at you. Even the worship seems to just slam-dunk your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday we had a visiting chapel speaker who spoke about circumcision.&lt;br /&gt;Naturally there was snickers, and giggling, especially by us ladies when the subject of the male genitalia came up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The speaker spoke about what it means to have your heart circumcised to God. Deuteronomy 10:16 says, "Circumcise your hearts, therefore, and do not be stiff-necked any longer." In short it means to have your heart's will cut off so that Christ's will can reign, that you are humbled by "loosening your neck" so that Christ can direct us like the mules that we are:) Oh how humbling it is to feel the weight of our humanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot tell you how gracious the Lord is to me. I cannot believe he loves me the amount that he does. Even when I promise him I won't do something again and then do, he STILL welcomes me home to a feast! OH HOW HE LOVES US!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prayer the past two days has been,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Lord circumcise my heart of my will so that your's might reign. Be the object of my affection, my relentless pursuit. Teach me to RUTHLESSLY trust you with my Isaacs, and believe in your promises and blessings."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like sin, I don't want it in my life. I want it purged. I want to be white as snow. I want to be made new today. And I get to live with the hope that this will come to fulfillment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praise you Father!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-4979916253605815098?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/4979916253605815098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=4979916253605815098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/4979916253605815098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/4979916253605815098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2009/03/spiritual-circumcision.html' title='Spiritual Circumcision'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-4914135456846376969</id><published>2008-12-04T23:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T02:36:01.174-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Philosophy - class paper I wrote</title><content type='html'>I feel as though my life has been a series of some answered and some unanswered questions. The past few years at college I have struggled to allow myself to keep asking questions because I felt I should be more conclusive and have things more put together in life; I would suppress pending questions and reject their persistence. As a result I have learned how close those questions are to my relationship with Jesus Christ because he was the outlet to which I found their answers, and in rejecting those questions I was rejecting intimacy with a loving God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is interesting how the Lord works in all aspects of our lives, not one aspect lacks importance to him. He used Philosophy 180 to rejuvenate these questions and to give me permission to embrace a life that embraces question asking. In our first day of class we discussed reasons we should study Philosophy, one of them was because our human mind is depraved, “we can’t think perfectly, but with God’s help we can think clearly and accurately about many things in life.”&lt;br /&gt;Through my questions I feel I am discovering the heart of God, and I do not want to give up those questions if it means giving up knowing the heart of God less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as I want a heart fully alive to Jesus Christ, I want a mind fully alive to him as well. The Bible says in Matthew 22:37, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” I have found that feelings are fleeting, one moment I can love a person, and then the next moment I can want nothing to do with them. I need my mind to compensate for my heart when it wanders. I cannot love the Lord with only my heart because one day something good can happen in my life that beckons me to thanksgiving and the next day a hurricane could wipe out a city and make me hate God. It is hard to always feel love towards a God that allows evil in the world, but with a foundation of sound evidence and truth I think there is a more likely chance that my emotions will have as much power over my wandering heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one of our first days of class we learned that God is big enough to handle our questions. If he is who we say that he is then he created our hearts and minds, along with their tendencies. Could our conflicting souls in search for truth be evidence of our need for a relationship with God? If he is the only one capable of handling our questions then he is the only one we can ask, and if entering dialogue with him produces relationship then he must want a relationship with us. The process of forming deductive arguments like the one stated above has been a helpful tool for me to better draw conclusions and back up my faith. This also is an easy tool to at least feel more educated in my responses when answering the call of Peter to, “But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander,” (1 Peter 3:15-16).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have struggled through my questions I feel I tend to use a lot of circular reasoning. I am not sure this is entirely healthy, but I cannot deny the fundamental truths and the thought of reconsidering them is difficult for me. In John 6:67-68 Jesus asks his disciples after his teachings were rejected by a group of people, “you do not want to leave too, do you?” To which Peter responds, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” I have stated this very verse to God time and time again, expressing that I have no where else to go but him. I don’t understand why things are the way they are, but he is all I have and even if I tried to run away I would be compelled to return to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a large portion of my reasoning with evil in the world. For me, I have to trust that it is not necessary that I understand as much as it is for me to trust in God. A verse that I rely heavily upon is Proverbs 3:5-6 which says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.” This verse, for me, relates back to the commandment of loving the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and soul. It speaks to me that in loving the Lord with all my heart it requires me to trust the Lord with all my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a hard concept for me to grasp because I worry the Lord won’t come through for me. I fear that Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you,” is maybe just a one time thing. But then I am confronted with the concept that God never changes, Malachi 3:6a says, “I the Lord do not change.” So if God does not change then his word must be eternal, because how could he go back on something he has already said, because that would mean his heart has changed. The possibility that a God who created the universe has great hopes for me, bewilders me. But I think trust shows a huge amount of love. When people trust me, my character, and my heart, I feel extremely loved. But it is difficult to reach that point of trust or to reach a point where you can say, “I trust you no matter what.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To trust someone no matter what is basically saying, “whatever you do I believe you have good reason for it.” The problem with trusting God no matter what is that is easily reconsidered when evil enters ones life. Because, if I believe that God wants good for me, and doesn’t want to harm me, but then bad happens to me and I am harmed, then this is a hard truth to believe. It leads me to question God’s capability to interact with me and ask just how involved is he in my life. It makes me wonder how God could allow such evil to happen if he desires the exact opposite for me. Such situations place my entire belief system under trial and force me to reconsider what I am putting my trust in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sovereignty of God is not an easy thing to grasp and questioning his sovereignty can be a painful process. It is not fun to reconsider a commitment previously made, just like in a marriage no one wants to have to reevaluate the foundation of that commitment. If I knew something would not last I am not entirely sure I would want to invest in it. If I knew I was going to get a divorce ten years after I got married, I would not want to get married, I want to avoid all pain to the best of my ability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, my personal belief is that I have to trust that God intends good and hopes for it despite my circumstances. He can make my path straight when I acknowledge him and trust him. Though hurt is ever present in life and inevitable, he can help to make my path straight in the midst of it, and I have chosen to believe this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not want to back down on my commitment to Christ. I hope that the Lord can trust me as struggle to trust him, even though I am weak and prone to failure. I do know he has entrusted, to some extent, his reputation to me. I am a representation of him because I am his daughter, just as I represent my earthly father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Committing to Christ has been hard and I don’t like it most the time, but when I am not in him I am miserable. Once adopted by him I am forever his and nothing I can do can change that, because once he makes his mark on my heart he does not take it back, because he is never changing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the Lord, and my philosophy of life is based on his amazing truths and love that he has for me. I am forever grateful for his love and redemption and only hope and pray that I can help others experience this amazing love of Christ.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-4914135456846376969?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/4914135456846376969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=4914135456846376969' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/4914135456846376969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/4914135456846376969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2008/12/life-philosophy-class-paper-i-wrote.html' title='Life Philosophy - class paper I wrote'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-3855506906077342635</id><published>2008-09-18T21:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T22:04:04.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shack</title><content type='html'>An Excerpt from &lt;em&gt;The Shack, &lt;/em&gt;by William Young, that rocked my world and is helping to shape the way I think about my past, present and future. I am learning to surrender with ruthless trust to Christ's hope for me. Thank you Lord!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#666666;"&gt;Jesus chuckled.  "Relax Mack; this is not a test, this is a conversation.  You are exactly correct, by the way (humans were designed to live in the present).  But now tell me, where do you spend most of your time in your mind, in your imagination - in the present, in the past or in the future."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mack thought for a moment before answering.  "I suppose I would have to say that I spend very little time in the present.  For me, i spend a big piece in the past, but most of the rest of the time, I am trying to figure out the future."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Not unlike most people.  When I dwell with you, I do so in the present - I live in the present.  Not the past, although much can be remembered and learned by looking back, but only for a visit, not an extended stay.  And for sure, I do not dwell in the future you visualize  or imagine.  Mack, do you realize that your imagination of the future, which is almost always dictated by fear of some kind, rarely, if ever, pictures me there with you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again Mack stopped and thought.  it was true.  he spent a lot of time worrying and fretting about the future, and in his imaginations it was usually pretty gloomy and depressing, if not outright horrible.  And Jesus was also correct in saying that in Mack's imaginations about the future, God was always absent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do I do that?" asked Mack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It is your desperate attempt to get some control over something you can't.  It is impossible for you to take power over the future because it isn't even real, nor will it ever be real.  You try and play God, imagining the evil that you fear becoming reality, and then you try and make plans and contingencies to avoid what you fear," (pg. 177). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-3855506906077342635?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/3855506906077342635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=3855506906077342635' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/3855506906077342635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/3855506906077342635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2008/09/shack.html' title='The Shack'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4676298599135887965.post-6120011394920829539</id><published>2008-09-17T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T18:34:55.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dream Not Come True</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Pastor:&lt;/strong&gt; God is good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Congregation:&lt;/strong&gt; All the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Pastor:&lt;/strong&gt; And all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Congregation:&lt;/strong&gt; God is good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if Abraham felt these words to be true as he walked his only son to be sacrificed (Genesis 22).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“How can God be good if he is asking for what is most valuable to me? How can God be good if he is taking away my dream that I have prayed most fervently for?” &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if those were his questions as he spent, what he thought, were his final moments with his son. Though this is an extreme story and unacceptable in today’s world, it is a priceless picture of complete obedience and trust in the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a dreamer. There are times I wish I could live for at least 200 years so that I can fit everything into my “life plan” and still have the ability to move around as a 22 year old. I want to have at least five vocations, learn at least two languages, raise a family, see Jesus return:), etc. But, I recently experienced that there is nothing more discouraging than seeing one of my dreams die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To have come so close to a dream’s fulfillment, in what seemed like the Lord’s perfect timing only for it to be ripped away like my skin from my flesh. So much a part of who I am was in that dream, but to see it die was devastating. Like a part of me was dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Jesus was a dream not come true for many Jews. For hundreds of years they fostered a heroic image given to them by prophets such as Isaiah. An idea of what the Messiah would look like developed, dreamt of, and fervently prayed for, I can only imagine how disappointed, maybe embarrassed they might have been. To be told the “Messiah was coming! Emmanuel coming down the road” and with eagerness they stretched their necks to look over the crowds to see their long awaited king riding on………. a donkey? Was this a joke, where was the white stallion? Maybe the non-believers laughed at the Jews for all their talk and years of fervent prayer. “You prayed all those years for this?!” Could they even have felt mocked by Jesus?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I saw this dream of mine die, I did what I could to bring life back into it. “CPR” you might say, pushing in breaths and compressing and waiting for a sign of life, but still no pulse. The life I was giving it wasn’t enough. I got tired, there was no response, and eventually my arms turned to flubber and my strength left me. Through the pain of my dream dying I have felt Christ ask me something, “Do you love me even more than this dream that you have put so much of your identity in?” And the sad, honest, answer was “No.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The joy we are able to have in Christ is that death has no victory over us. Though my dream has died Christ can raise it up when and if he’d like. But, if Christ’s breath is breathed into it that dream will not ever die. I can have more assurance in the dreams he makes happen than the ones I make happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want and hope for Christ to breathe life into my dreams. But I know that they have to die to me so that they might really have the chance to be fully alive in Christ. I guess this is a way of dying to the flesh for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brennan Manning says it perfectly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Search your heart for the Isaac in your life – name it and then place it on the altar as an offering to the Lord – and you will know the meaning of Abrahamic Trust,”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Ruthless Trust, pg. 177).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am looking for more of these dreams and even the things that make me hesitant to give up these dreams (pride, fear, anger, hurt) and I’m struggling to lay those on the altar, trusting that even if the knife does strike, the Lord will still provide. (Genesis 22:1-18).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whom have I but you Lord? There is no one.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4676298599135887965-6120011394920829539?l=estiemarie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/feeds/6120011394920829539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4676298599135887965&amp;postID=6120011394920829539' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/6120011394920829539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4676298599135887965/posts/default/6120011394920829539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://estiemarie.blogspot.com/2008/09/dream-not-come-true.html' title='A Dream Not Come True'/><author><name>Estie Marie Barnes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01693479873060742680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FEu6i2BE7m0/Sb_U8205aRI/AAAAAAAAADM/q_BdpDMrp3s/S220/Barnes+Family+Reunion+in+Santa+Barbara+2008+116.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
