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Passionately Pursuing Christ

~ Christ Centered Poetry by Debbie Harris

Passionately Pursuing Christ

Tag Archives: Inpirational

The Prodigal Nation: A Cry for America to Kneel Again at Calvary by Debbie Harris

25 Tuesday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Patriotic

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Inpirational, Inspirational, Prayer, Royally Redeemed

This prophetic poem is a heartfelt lament and urgent plea for the soul of America. It begins by echoing the beloved line “God shed His grace on thee,” then paints a stark picture of a nation that has received unmatched blessing yet drifted far from its first love, trading truth for pride, liberty for license, and the light of Christ for the darkness of self.

Like the prodigal son, America is portrayed as a wayward child who has squandered its inheritance, yet the Father still calls, still waits, still stands ready with open arms. The poem moves from sorrow over the nation’s spiritual decline to a ringing call for repentance: to fall on its knees at the cross, drink again from Calvary’s fountain, and find forgiveness and eternal life in Jesus Christ alone.

The final stanzas burst with hope and holy urgency. Church bells, steeples, and awakened hearts herald the promise that if America turns back to Christ, revival’s fire is here, ready to fall, ready to burn away the darkness and restore the land to the glory and purpose for which it was graced.

In essence, it is both a mourning for what has been lost and a triumphant declaration that it is not too late: the Shepherd seeks His sheep, the King is near, and revival awaits the nation that humbles itself and comes home.

America, America,
God shed His grace on thee,
From shining sea to shining sea,
Yet shadows veil what once was free.

The crown of brotherhood lies bent,
Our purple mountains turn to dust,
The fruited plain forgets its scent,
And liberty lies stained with rust.

We chased the wind, we crowned the pride,
We called the darkness light by day,
We traded truth for what felt right,
And slowly turned our hearts away.

But hark—a voice still calls thy name,
The Shepherd seeks the wandering sheep,
His arms are wide, His love the same,
Though we have sown what now we reap.

America, America,
Fall on thy knees beneath the cross,
Where mercy flows for every loss,
Where grace redeems what sin has cost.

Repent, return, O weary land,
The altar waits, the Savior stands,
His blood still speaks a better word
Than all the cries of broken hands.

Let church bells ring from coast to coast,
Let steeples pierce the darkened sky,
Let prodigal hearts come home to boast
No more in self, but Christ on high.

America, America,
God shed His grace on thee—
And bids thee now, in humble faith,
Come drink the cup of Calvary.

There find forgiveness, full and free,
There find the life that never ends,
For every soul that turns to see
The Lamb of God who heals and mends.

America, awake, arise,
Lift up your eyes, the King is near.
The night is far spent, dawn is nigh—
Turn back to Christ; revival’s fire is here.

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Theologia Naturalis Redempta: The Gospel of Redemption Traced through the Groaning Creation by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christ-Created Nature, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Christ-Created Nature, Christian Poetry, christianity, Inpirational

Summary of
Theologia Naturalis Redempta
(The Gospel of Redemption Traced through the Groaning Creation)

The poem presents the entire gospel story as it is silently preached by the created world itself, from Genesis to Revelation.

It begins before creation, with the eternal Word and Love already present, then shows how every element of nature was designed from the beginning to be a living parable of Christ and His redemptive work.

  • Stars, leaves, and light bear the signature of the Lamb who was “slain from the foundation of the world.”
  • Innocent lambs, barren fig trees, toil-free lilies, and fed ravens act as living sermons on sin, judgment, providence, and grace.
  • The central agricultural images (sower and soils, wheat and tares, the single grain that dies to bear much fruit, the bleeding Vine and its pruning) retell the parable of the cross and resurrection: Christ’s death is the only way to abundant spiritual harvest.
  • Storm and wave bowing to Jesus reveal His sovereign lordship even in the chaos introduced by the fall.
  • Creation itself is then shown “groaning” under the curse, waiting with eager longing for the revelation of the sons of God and the final liberation of nature at Christ’s return.
  • The poem closes in the new creation: the curse reversed, the Tree of Life healing the nations, the river flowing from the throne, and God Himself as the light—no temple, no night, only the unveiled glory of the Lamb.

Thus nature is never a neutral backdrop; it is a book written by the same finger that wrote Scripture. From the first dawn to the final morning, every meadow, storm, seed, and star has been proclaiming one message: the dying and rising of the Word made flesh, the redemption accomplished and the creation made new through the blood of the eternal Lamb.

In short, the poem argues that if we have ears to hear and eyes to see, the whole groaning, glorious world is one long, unbroken sermon on the everlasting gospel of Jesus Christ.

Before the worlds were framed, the Word was there,
And Love, unmade, breathed life through empty air.
The Spirit brooded o’er the formless deep
Till light, obedient, from the darkness leaped.
Each star a seal, each leaf a living line,
Proclaims the Lamb whose blood would write divine.

The lamb that frisks at dawn upon the lea
Already knows the Shepherd soon to be;
The fig-tree, cursed for barrenness, confesses
That fruitlessness invites the storm of curses.
Yet lilies, clothed in glory without toil,
Outshine the pomp of Solomon’s proud spoil.

Behold the ravens: neither barn nor field
Yet find their table by the Father filled;
The sower casts his seed on varied ground—
Some choked by thorns, some trampled, some profound;
But where the plow of grace has broken sod,
One grain, in dying, multiplies to God.

The wheat and tares in mingled beauty spring
Till angels reap with sickles of the King;
The grain of wheat must fall and lose its name
Lest it abide alone in barren shame.
From that small death the bread of heaven springs—
Five thousand fed, and twelve full baskets’ gleanings.

The Vine is bleeding on the terraced hill;
The branches that abide are pruned until
More excellent the clusters grow, and press
The wine of joy for heaven’s marriage-feast.
The waves that roared in fury cease to rave
And lay their heads, like children, at His feet to lave.

Creation groans beneath the ancient curse,
In travail waits the universe’s nurse;
The rocks stand ready, should our praise grow dumb,
To shout the triumph of the Age to come.
Yet soon the curse shall vanish like a scroll,
And morning break upon the ransomed whole.

Beneath the Tree whose leaves shall heal mankind
The river flows, no serpent now to bind;
No night shall fall, no temple need the sun,
For God Himself shall be their Light, the Lamb the throne.
All nature, once a parable of grace,
Shall see her Lord unveiled and face to face.

Thus from the first creation to the new
The Gospel shines the wounded landscape through:
Not writ in ink, nor graven upon stone,
But living in the flesh that veils the throne;
Beholds His glory, full of truth and grace—
The Word made flesh, who took our mortal place.

Amen.

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A Sonnet on Ephesians 5:20 by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Praise, Royally Redeemed, Thanksgiving

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Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Thanksgiving

The sonnet is a poetic meditation on Ephesians 5:20’s command to “give thanks always for all things.”

It urges the reader to offer gratitude not only in moments of joy, plenty, and health, but especially in hardship, pain, hunger, sorrow, and suffering. The poem reframes difficulties as disguised mercies: wounds that sing, crosses that become crowns, scars that shine like jewels, and bruises that lead to healing joy.

In every circumstance (sunlit or stormy), the speaker calls us to lift continual thanks to God the Father through Jesus Christ, insisting that this habit of thankful praise, even in the darkest times, is what ultimately strengthens weak and weary hearts.

Give thanks, O heart, in every breath you draw,
Not only when the sun gilds morning skies,
But when the midnight rain and tempests roar,
And sorrow’s iron enters through your eyes.
Give thanks when bread is plentiful and sweet,
Yet more when hunger gnaws the hollow night;
Give thanks in health that dances down the street,
And deeper still when pain restrains your flight.
For every wound, a hidden mercy sings;
Each cross a covert crown, each scar a gem.
The Father’s hand that bruises also brings
The oil of joy from Gilead’s stem.
So, in the name of Jesus, lift your song—
Give thanks always, for this makes weak hearts strong.

(Ephesians 5:20: “Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”)

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Diamonds That Fall from Heaven: A Sonnet on Rain by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christ-Created Nature, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Biblical Truth, Christ-Created Nature, Christian Poetry, Inpirational

A 14-line Shakespearean sonnet that portrays rain as diamonds and bright coins poured freely from the Rain-God’s hand.

These priceless jewels flash briefly on skin and stone, impossible to grasp or hoard, yet in their falling they crown every person (rich or poor) with sudden, equal wealth.

The poem celebrates the fleeting, unearned generosity of rain: a momentary coronation that leaves the whole world richer and every beggar, for one shining instant, royal.

The Rain-God lifts one hand; the heavens part
And down they come, bright coins from unseen mints,
Cut diamonds torn from daylight’s hidden heart
That flash and vanish ere the eyelid winks.
They strike the cheek like sudden wealth bestowed,
Cold fire that melts the instant it is given;
No purse can hold them, yet the whole road
Is paved with fleeting gems no king has striven
To own. A moment only do they lie
In glittering ruin on the skin, the stone,
Then slip to earth and leave the thirsty sky
More generous than any earthly throne.
So falls the rain: unearned, uncounted, free—
And every beggar wears a crown from heaven’s sea.

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The Demonic Sin of Cultural Marxism by Debbie Harris

24 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Spiritual Warfare

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Christian Poetry, Inpirational

The poem portrays “cultural Marxism” as a malevolent, almost demonic spiritual force that disguises itself as compassion and progress. It systematically attacks and inverts every traditional pillar of Western civilization: family, sex roles, nationhood, religion, truth, beauty, and freedom of speech.

Rather than using open revolution, it works subtly through schools, media, and culture, teaching younger generations to despise their own inheritance, to see strength as oppression, loyalty as hate, and moral boundaries as tyranny. The poem presents this process as a deliberate, satanic unraveling of the natural and divine order, leaving people isolated, guilt-ridden, and enslaved under the guise of liberation. In the end, it is revealed not as a mere political ideology but as an ancient, serpentine evil masquerading as enlightenment.

In shadowed halls where old gods used to dwell,
A new creed slithered, born of envy’s breath,
It wore the mask of mercy, spoke of hell
As heaven’s foe, and promised life through death.

It cursed the father, scorned the mother’s womb,
Unsexed the child before it learned to stand,
Turned beauty into shame, and every room
Of learning into ash beneath its hand.

It preached that strength is violence, truth a chain,
That borders are but scars upon the earth,
That every oath of blood is stained with pain,
And nationhood a sin before its birth.

With velvet tongue it whispered, “All is power,”
Then seized the schools, the screens, the sacred scroll,
And hour by hour, in academic towers,
It fed the young on bitterness of soul.

It loosed the bonds that hold the world upright—
The covenant of man and wife, of kin,
Of altar, hearth, and law—and called it light
To walk unmoored, unjudged, unshackled sin.

And still it hungers. Every fallen spire,
Each silent church, each tongue that fears to speak,
Becomes its incense on a hidden pyre
Where freedom burns and only masters speak.

Yet deep beneath its sermon’s honeyed rot,
A colder voice, ancient, serpentine,
Rejoices in the soul it almost bought—
The demonic sin that calls itself divine.

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Every Prayer Ascends as a Sacred Poem to the Throne of God by Debbie Harris

23 Sunday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ Centered Devotionals, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Prayer, Royally Redeemed

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Inpirational, Poetry, Prayer

Every prayer is a sacred poem to God,
Though penned in haste on trembling air,
In fragments torn from flesh and blood,
Yet flawless in the sight of prayer.

The miser’s coin that clinks too late,
The harlot’s tear upon the floor,
The thief’s last breath beneath the weight
Of nail and spear and open door.

The scholar’s doubt that kneels at length,
The leper’s groan outside the gate,
The proud man’s silence, stripped of strength,
All enter heaven’s mercy-seat.

No line is lost, no sigh too small;
The stammered word, the wordless dread,
The broken meter of our fall
Becomes the psalm that angels read.

For He who spoke the worlds in rhyme
Delights in every ragged scroll;
He gathers every trembling line
And binds them in His heart made whole.

Therefore let fall the heart’s crude art—
Unpolished, bleeding, unafraid—
Every prayer is a sacred poem to God,
And every Christ- centered poem is a prayer.

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A Hymn To The Beauty To Our Lord And Savior Jesus Christ, King Of Kings And Lord Of Lords by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Inspirational, Praise

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Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, theology

The poem is a reverent contemplation of the surpassing, inexhaustible beauty of Jesus Christ. It declares that no human words, art, or lifespan can ever fully capture His loveliness: His face outshines the dawn, His eyes hold depths greater than the sea, and even the fairest flowers and the sun itself grow dim before Him.

His pierced hands and sacred wounds, once marks of suffering, now radiate eternal glory and serve as the very gates of heaven. Angels and elders in heaven veil their faces and cast down their crowns in ceaseless worship of the Lamb who was slain.

Yet on earth, time is too short and mortal hearts too limited to comprehend or express even a fraction of this beauty. A thousand ages would still leave the soul stammering in awe.

The closing strophe turns to hope: although no one sees Him in fullness now, to all who are born again God has promised the day when faith will become sight. Then, face to face with the unveiled Christ, they will at last drink in the complete splendor of His beauty and love Him perfectly forever.

In mortal sphere where fleeting shadows fall,
There walks a Form that holds the heart in thrall;
No tongue of man, though eloquent it be,
Hath power to speak the tenth part of His beauty.

His countenance is fairer than the morn
When first it gilds the dew-besilvered thorn;
His eyes are deeper than the midnight sea,
Yet soft as light that breaks on Galilee.

The rose of Sharon pales before His cheek,
The lily of the valley seems less meek;
The sun itself, in all its golden pride,
Doth veil its face when He is glorified.

His hands, once pierced, now bear the radiant scars
That shine more bright than all the evening stars;
His wounds, once red with sorrow’s bitter wine,
Are now the gates whereby the soul divine
Doth enter bliss and drink eternal day,
Where grief is lost and tears are wiped away.

The seraphim before His throne fall low,
Veiling their wings in reverent glow;
The four-and-twenty elders cast their crowns
And chant new anthems to the Lamb that drowns
All lesser music in its boundless tide
Of love that flowed when on the Cross He died.

Yet mortal years are all too brief a span
To trace the glory of the Son of Man;
A thousand ages, bright as seraphs’ wings,
Would find the heart still poor and stammering.

O Beauty ancient, yet for ever new,
O endless Light that mortal eye ne’er knew
In fullness here; yet to the born-again
Thy promise stands, immutable, clear, and plain:
They shall behold Thy face in unveiled might,
And, ravished, drink the plenitude of light,
Where faith shall yield to sight, and sight adore
The Lamb upon the throne for evermore.

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More to Be Desired Are They Than Gold,Yea, Than Much Fine Gold by Debbie Harris

22 Saturday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ Centered Devotionals, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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bible, Christian Poetry, christianity, Inpirational, Inspirational, theology

The poem is a single, soaring hymn of praise to the Holy Bible as the living, life-giving Word of God.

It begins with the human soul lying dead in the dust of sin and despair, then shows how the gentle rain of Scripture falls upon that dust and causes new life to spring forth, green, fragrant, and rejoicing.

From there it traces the entire pilgrimage of the believer:

  • The Bible becomes a chain of steady lamps along the dangerous, narrow path, turning midnight into morning.
  • Its promises taste sweeter than wild honey dripping from the rock.
  • When enemies weave nets of lies, Scripture flashes like a sword of fire and sets the captive free.
  • Before dawn, hungry souls rise to meet the Word and find fresh manna, warm and fragrant, every single morning.
  • The heart learns to love God’s commandments more than the richest king loves his glittering treasure, and living rivers burst forth within.
  • Finally, Scripture binds, seals, and nails the soul fast to God, transforming trembling sinners into joyful, unshakable trees planted by rivers of water, whose leaves never wither and whose fruit never fails.

The whole movement is one of resurrection, guidance, delight, deliverance, sustenance, and everlasting fruitfulness, all flowing from the open pages of the Holy Bible. It is a universal prayer that every heart on earth would come to love, trust, and live in this Word that is forever settled in heaven, more precious than thousands of pieces of gold and silver, and able to make the simple wise unto everlasting life.

In short: the poem celebrates the Holy Bible as the inexhaustible treasure that revives the dead, guides the lost, feeds the hungry, frees the captive, and keeps the redeemed forever alive in the presence of God.

Let every heart that once lay prone in dust
be raised beneath the gentle rain of Scripture;
the Holy Bible falls like mercy’s mist,
and withered ribs put on the green of life,
breathing the fragrance of a risen race.

Let every pilgrim faltering on the steep,
where pride’s loose stones betray the trembling foot,
behold the lamps of God’s own Word hung deep
along the narrow way; the sacred page
turns midnight into morning, and each step
rings clear upon the height with heaven’s light.

Let every tongue that hungers taste and say
how verses of the Holy Bible melt
more sweet than honey dripping from the rock;
one line, and barren souls become a sea
of golden wheat beneath a harvest moon,
where quiet winds of peace forever move.

When lying cords are woven through the gloom
to snare the innocent, let Scripture rise
like sudden sunrise on a blade of steel;
the nets fall black and burned, the captives rise
laughing beneath a sky the Word has flung
wide open with its everlasting light.

Before the lark awakes, before the dew
has vanished from the grass, let watchers keep
their silent vigil with the open Book,
and find warm manna broken in their hands,
fresh from the Holy Bible every dawn,
still fragrant with the breath of God Himself.

Let every heart love Scripture more than kings
love coffers heaped with gold and glittering stone;
let living waters from its pages leap
on crystal wings and sweep old sins away.

Bind every soul with cords no storm can sever,
seal every spirit on the arm of Love,
drive every thought like nails the Word drives home;
so shall the trembling stand in perfect peace,
and joy shall clothe them like a wedding dress.

For lo, the Holy Bible stands enthroned
in heaven’s height, a star no darkness dims;
and all who graft their lives upon its truth
become fair trees beside the river of God,
whose leaves shall never fade, whose fruit is sure
through summer’s blaze and winter’s longest night.

Amen.

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In Awe of How God Provides for His Own by Debbie Harris

20 Thursday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational, Jesus Christ, King of Kings, Praise, Thanksgiving

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Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational

The poem is a lyrical meditation on the wonder of divine provision. Drawing from biblical images (sparrows, ravens and widows, manna, water from the rock, Daniel in the lions’ den, Shadrach and his friends in the furnace, Sarah’s laughter, restored lepers, multiplied loaves), it celebrates God’s miraculous, often extravagant care for His people.

It portrays a God who turns scarcity into abundance, danger into safety, and emptiness into overflowing grace. Nothing is wasted in His economy; even tears and lost years are redeemed. The tone is one of stunned gratitude before the “scandalous arithmetic” of a Provider who refuses to let His own go hungry, leaving the speaker (and reader) in speechless awe and worship.

The sparrow lifts on a wind it never earned,
wings tipped with light that was not its making;
it drinks from a puddle cupped in broken stone—
a chalice the storm forgot to shatter.

A widow counts two coins that should have been one,
yet the jar keeps breathing flour, the jug keeps bleeding oil;
the prophet’s raven drops bread like dark forgiveness
on a fugitive hiding from his own prayers.

Out of the cracked heart of a rock, water remembers
how to be generous;
manna falls like slow punctuation
in the long sentence of the wilderness.

Even the lions in their hunger learn restraint
when a man stands in their den humming psalms;
the fourth figure walks the furnace, unconsumed,
cooling the flames with the hem of mercy.

See the childless womb that suddenly laughs,
the prisoner whose chains fall off like old skin,
the leper who reaches, and instead of losing a hand
finds it wrapped in new flesh.

Nothing is wasted—
not the five loaves, not the tears, not the years eaten by locusts.
He keeps every sparrow in a ledger of love
and every hair numbered like stars in a private sky.

So we stand, beggars who wake up rich,
carrying empty cups that keep overflowing,
stunned into worship by the scandalous arithmetic
of a God who will not let His own go hungry.

Amen.

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One Savior, One Song, One King: Sonnet of a Heart Tuned Forever to the Praise of the Lamb Who Was Slain by Debbie Harris

17 Monday Nov 2025

Posted by Debbie Harris in Bible Centered Poetry, Christ Centered Devotionals, Christ-centered poetry, Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational

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Christian Poetry, christianity, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, theology

Romans 11:33–36 (KJV)

³³ O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!
³⁴ For who hath known the mind of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor?
³⁵ Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again?
³⁶ For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen.

From Him the morning breaks and stars are born,
Through Him the cross, the empty tomb, the grace;
His wounded hands still hold the world He swore
To buy with blood and crown with royal race.
No breath is mine but what His mercy gave,
No crown I’ll wear but what His sorrow wrought;
Each moment, talent, tear, from cradle-grave
Is owed, is owned, is only His by right.
Then let no rival glory claim one sigh—
No dream, no fear, no pleasure steal His due;
My waking, working, weeping, living, die:
All fuel to blaze one fire forever true.
To Him alone be glory, now, alway;
My heart, my life, my all—His endless day.

Of Him, through Him, and to Him alone
are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen.

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  • Nothing to Glory in but the Cross by Debbie Harris
  • The Masterpiece of Beauty: How Christ, His Creation, and His Benefits Displace All Worldly Glory by Debbie Harris
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  • Sanctify Our Words, Our Speech, Our Deeds by Debbie Harris
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Kingdom Intelligence Briefing

Preparing the Remnant for the Unfolding of End-Time Prophecy

snatchedfromtheflamescom.wordpress.com/

JONATHAN TURLEY

Res ipsa loquitur - The thing itself speaks

A Purpose-driven achiever

Pursuing my destiny - Maximizing my potential

Society of Classical Poets

A community of poets dedicated to traditional poetry

Malcolm Guite

Blog for poet and singer-songwriter Malcolm Guite

F.O.R. Jesus

Fill up. Overflow. Run over.

Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Letters from the Exile

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The Beautiful Due

Some creatives

Poetry - Songs - Faith-based discussion - Comments

Riverside Peace

Discover how God works through his creation and Scripture to show us his love.

Petals from the Basket

Ideas and Resources for Everyday Christian Living

His Beloved

"I do not write these things to make you ashamed, but to admonish you as my beloved children" 1 Corinthians 4:14 Copyright © Kayla Rivers All Rights Reserved

Making Joy a Habit

My Journey for Joy through Christ-Centered Living

Gail Johnson

Sharing the hope I found in the center of His wheel

Rooted in Christ

Becoming deeply Rooted in Christ by digging into His word.

www.connectionpoints.us/

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Encouraging and Empowering Women In Christ

Lines of Lazarus

"God is my Help"

l i g h t room

Word(s) . Light . Life

Take your Cross now.

John 3:16 for ME.

Together Sisters

~walking each other home~

Life in a blog

All there is ever, is the now

He Spoke To My Heart

A Collection of Inspirational Thoughts by Jeannine Larcom

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