The plane was preparing to land and the man across the aisle from me frantically fastened his toddler back into the window seat. The little girl began to whimper.
"Shh, shhhh, shhhh," the man said.
The girl whimpered more. The shushing wasn't working. Eventually the man unbuckled the child and pulled her into his lap.
The whimpering stopped. The child was no longer afraid. She was in her daddy's arms.
That's who I want to be: the little girl perfectly content my Heavenly Daddy's arms.
Even when I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. Even when I don't know when I'll get to see my friends (read: family) again.
Are you willing to curl up in the lap of your Abba Father?
Even when finals are hard. Even when your kids are disobedient. Even when you're not sure if you'll be able to pay for the avocados to make the guacamole you promised. Even when life is hard.
"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!" 1 John 3:1a NIV
I pray in marker.
Putting prayers on paper prevents me from getting distracted (raise your hand if you have the attention span of a butterfly when praying). It's childish and messy to use a thin-line Crayola on college-ruled paper. It is good.
Prayer is messy. Life is messy.
Like a child whose hands are more colorful than the paper, I stretch them up to my Daddy and let Him shush me with His perfect love.
"The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 NIV
Just as the daddy on the airplane cared for his little girl, all the more will my Heavenly Daddy care for me (and you).
Even through our childish fits about things not going our way. Even through our crying and panicking when there is nothing to fear.
Take a seat in His lap, stretch your marker-hands to the sky, let Him hold you, His child. Take peace and comfort in His love.
I do.
Love,
<>< Katie
"I am sure that some people are born to write as trees are born to bear leaves. For these, writing is a necessary mode of their own development." - C. S. Lewis
Showing posts with label girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label girl. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
In the Arms of the Father
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Friday, December 9, 2011
The Most Holy Place
During Bible study one girl made the comment that she is always blown away by the tearing of the temple curtain. Another admitted she was unfamiliar with that aspect of the story of Jesus's death and resurrection.
In ancient Jewish temples, there were different areas where people were permitted or prohibited from traveling based on their religion, gender, and profession.
The Most Holy Place was the most-restrictive area of the temple where only the rabbi was allowed and only once a year on The Day of Atonement. This was so strict that when the rabbi entered The Most Holy Place to make the annual sacrifice, he was required to bathe himself, wear specific linen garments prior to entering and then remove them and re-bathe upon his departure.
The Most Holy Place was considered to be the very presence of God. (Leviticus 16)
When Christ breathed His final breath on the cross, the thick curtain separating The Most Holy Place from the rest of the tabernacle was torn into two.
I do.
With the removal of the curtain, we are able to enter into the presence of the Lord. We are invited, welcomed, and encouraged go to before God directly. No longer do we need a mediator, a rabbi, a go-between.
As His beloved sons and daughters, we are ushered directly into the presence of our Abba Father. Our harsh words, our love, our fears, our praise, our frustrations are spoken straight to Him.
I tend to take this for granted. And today I am especially grateful for it. I am once again blown away by the significance of a temple curtain, an Old Testament regulation, ripped to shreds. For you. For me.
Excuse me now as I, a Gentile woman, enter into The Most Holy Place.
<>< Katie
In ancient Jewish temples, there were different areas where people were permitted or prohibited from traveling based on their religion, gender, and profession.
The Most Holy Place was the most-restrictive area of the temple where only the rabbi was allowed and only once a year on The Day of Atonement. This was so strict that when the rabbi entered The Most Holy Place to make the annual sacrifice, he was required to bathe himself, wear specific linen garments prior to entering and then remove them and re-bathe upon his departure.
The Most Holy Place was considered to be the very presence of God. (Leviticus 16)
When Christ breathed His final breath on the cross, the thick curtain separating The Most Holy Place from the rest of the tabernacle was torn into two.
"Then Jesus shouted out again, and He released His spirit. At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. They left the cemetery after Jesus’ resurrection, went into the holy city of Jerusalem, and appeared to many people." Matthew 27:50-53 NLTThere's a lot going on. It's easy to miss. I mean, the Messiah is dead, hello! Roman soldiers are declaring Him the Son of God, saints are being raised, there's a huge earthquake, and it's dark in the middle of the afternoon. Who cares about some curtain way over in the temple tearing?
"Then Jesus uttered another loud cry and breathed His last. And the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. When the Roman officer who stood facing Him saw how He had died, he exclaimed, 'This man truly was the Son of God!'” Mark 15:37-39 NLT
"By this time it was about noon, and darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock. The light from the sun was gone. And suddenly, the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn down the middle. Then Jesus shouted, 'Father, I entrust My spirit into Your hands!' And with those words, He breathed His last breath." Luke 23:44-46 NLT
I do.
With the removal of the curtain, we are able to enter into the presence of the Lord. We are invited, welcomed, and encouraged go to before God directly. No longer do we need a mediator, a rabbi, a go-between.
As His beloved sons and daughters, we are ushered directly into the presence of our Abba Father. Our harsh words, our love, our fears, our praise, our frustrations are spoken straight to Him.
I tend to take this for granted. And today I am especially grateful for it. I am once again blown away by the significance of a temple curtain, an Old Testament regulation, ripped to shreds. For you. For me.
Excuse me now as I, a Gentile woman, enter into The Most Holy Place.
<>< Katie
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Wait
The middle school girl across the dinner table from me was lost gazing into space. Her friend said she was deep in thought. Naturally, I asked what she was thinking about. Again her friend provided the answer: boys. She has a boyfriend but there's another guy she likes. I've never been there, but I still realize that's a difficult position.
"You know that one thing all guys want?" the girl asked.
I nodded, carefully choosing words as we embarked into dangerous territory. "If he does not respect you, then he is not worth your time," I said.
She nodded and told me about her purity commitment.
"One day you will find a man who respects you as a woman," I continued. "One who will honor your commitment and your relationship with God. Maybe he'll even share in them. You will find a man who treats you right. Do not settle for anything less."
She nodded.
There was no point in continuing my sermon. It was something she already knew but needed to hear again. Likewise, I needed to say it again.
"You know that one thing all guys want?" the girl asked.
I nodded, carefully choosing words as we embarked into dangerous territory. "If he does not respect you, then he is not worth your time," I said.
She nodded and told me about her purity commitment.
"One day you will find a man who respects you as a woman," I continued. "One who will honor your commitment and your relationship with God. Maybe he'll even share in them. You will find a man who treats you right. Do not settle for anything less."
She nodded.
There was no point in continuing my sermon. It was something she already knew but needed to hear again. Likewise, I needed to say it again.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I have been rejected
As part of my English major, I have to take a Communications class. Someone please explain that one to me. All I know is I would much rather write about donating blood or girls tumbling from walls than yesterday's bank robbery on 15th and Main St.
My optimistic attitude about this class quickly moved to dislike. I even mentioned it to one of my English professors.
Professor: You know, you could have taken Poetry Writing instead of Communications Class.
Katie: I know, but I thought this would have been the lesser of the two evils.
Professor: You would have had more fun in the other evil.
Well, I think out of boredom, some of very clever lines have flowed through my fingers in this class. And let me tell you, they're not about the hit-and-run that happened around 10pm last night...
The professor handed us a speech asked us to write an article about it, and said, "You're going to like this one." I'm not sure if it was out of spite for the professor or spite for the class, but I was determined for prove him wrong. It was pretty easy. This was a Steve Jobs speech, and I'm a Windows girl. The irony is that this post was written from a Mac.
With a Shaun Groves post about fear pulled up as an incentive to finish the assignment, I began to read the speech. Naturally, I did everything my English background told me to do: critique, analyze, examine. Well, that's apparently a big no-no for journalism, but I didn't really care. I figured I would turn the filter on later.
Somewhere around the middle of the speech, I moved from loathing the assignment to tolerating it. Although I did not agree with all of the theology, Jobs was making good points.
"I had been rejected, but I was still in love," he said.
Jobs was talking about being fired from his own company, but I think that's a line that can be applied to a plethora of different aspects of life.
"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."
For me, the application that shines through most clearly is in writing. I submitted a piece that I thought was a sure-thing, but it was rejected. That's a hard pill to swallow, especially for someone who can't swallow pills.
"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."
I was rejected, but I still love to write. Just like Jobs continued to pursue a dream that eventually turned into the development of Pixar and NeXT, I am continuing to pursue a dream. Who knows where it will turn out.
This is what I do know: God gave me a passion for writing. It is one of my strengths. There is no way that He isn't going to use it for His glory. I am willing to suffer through every Communications class required for my English major just to see that come to fruition.
<>< Katie
My optimistic attitude about this class quickly moved to dislike. I even mentioned it to one of my English professors.
Professor: You know, you could have taken Poetry Writing instead of Communications Class.
Katie: I know, but I thought this would have been the lesser of the two evils.
Professor: You would have had more fun in the other evil.
Well, I think out of boredom, some of very clever lines have flowed through my fingers in this class. And let me tell you, they're not about the hit-and-run that happened around 10pm last night...
The professor handed us a speech asked us to write an article about it, and said, "You're going to like this one." I'm not sure if it was out of spite for the professor or spite for the class, but I was determined for prove him wrong. It was pretty easy. This was a Steve Jobs speech, and I'm a Windows girl. The irony is that this post was written from a Mac.
With a Shaun Groves post about fear pulled up as an incentive to finish the assignment, I began to read the speech. Naturally, I did everything my English background told me to do: critique, analyze, examine. Well, that's apparently a big no-no for journalism, but I didn't really care. I figured I would turn the filter on later.
Somewhere around the middle of the speech, I moved from loathing the assignment to tolerating it. Although I did not agree with all of the theology, Jobs was making good points.
"I had been rejected, but I was still in love," he said.
Jobs was talking about being fired from his own company, but I think that's a line that can be applied to a plethora of different aspects of life.
"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."
For me, the application that shines through most clearly is in writing. I submitted a piece that I thought was a sure-thing, but it was rejected. That's a hard pill to swallow, especially for someone who can't swallow pills.
"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."
I was rejected, but I still love to write. Just like Jobs continued to pursue a dream that eventually turned into the development of Pixar and NeXT, I am continuing to pursue a dream. Who knows where it will turn out.
This is what I do know: God gave me a passion for writing. It is one of my strengths. There is no way that He isn't going to use it for His glory. I am willing to suffer through every Communications class required for my English major just to see that come to fruition.
<>< Katie
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Monday, May 17, 2010
Volunteers
Sunday morning Pastor Russ spoke about the "communion of saints" line in the Apostle's Creed. (Baptist readers: please don't condemn me because I go to a creedal church...). One of the things he mentioned was that Christian life is like breathing. Going to church (physically) is breathing in. Going out into the world and being the church is breathing out. You need both. You can't just breathe in and you can't just breathe out. There needs to be a balance between the two. I completely agree.
Later he said something else I'd never really thought about before. He called parents volunteers. He supported that idea by saying they've volunteered their time and gas money to get their children to and from activities. They coordinate carpool, snacks, and game schedules... They're the volunteers that get the least amount of credit. Sunday night I got to see that idea in action.
There's a group of middle school girls currently a part of our confirmation class. As a class they sponsor me through an adopt a college kid ministry. Basically this means they send me packages periodically, I send them cards, and I visit them when I'm in town. I'm in town, so Sunday night I paid them a visit.
In case you've never spent time with eight 7th grade girls: they are crazy. To top it off, this was their end of the year party, so we had a chocolate fountain in class. BIG MESS, BIG MESS!
Yes, there was chocolate everywhere. As we were cleaning it up, I asked the leader how she was going to go about cleaning it. She explained she'd used the same fountain with her son's Sunday School class that morning, and she just let it sit in the sink all afternoon. Here I was thinking about how I never wanted to clean a chocolate fountain and she did it twice... today.
After the girls left, she was telling me some of their stories. Mind you, this is a middle class, primarily-white, suburban church. Well, a lot of the students in her group came from single parent/ divorced homes. Most of them weren't just a "it is what it is" situation but rather there was baggage. A "Mom died six days after she was told she had two months to live" story. A "Dad's got a girlfriend abroad and spends most of his time there but also has primary custody of the kids." The ones that have two parents have heart-breaking stories, too. "Her brother died in the military." "Mom had the primary income, but then she lost her job, so they're living on Dad's part-time salary."
On the surface, these are average middle school girls who enjoy chocolate a bit too much, spend all summer in the swimming pool, and can't wait to go to camp. When you look a little deeper, they've all got stories that will break your heart.
"I'm just trying to make a difference," the leader said. She explained most of them are not in church other than confirmation class, so she struggles to find the balance between fun and teaching about God. "This may be their only opportunity to hear His word; that's a big responsibility on me," she explained, maybe not orally, but I heard it. "I've been trying so hard to reach this one girl, and I just can't seem to get through."
I told her I'd pray for her. And I did. All the way home. Those girls' stories tug on my heart-strings, and that woman's obedience to God's call and willingness to do what's right. She's an everyday, unsung hero. She's the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up, even if it means I have to clean a chocolate fountain twice in one day. As soon as I wrote that sentence, a little voice in my head said, "Why wait?" Why wait to be obedient and willing to volunteer your time, energy, and gas? So I ask you, why wait?
But this blog isn't about you and me. It's about this the volunteering that often goes unnoticed.
Parents, thank you for volunteering your time and making a difference, not just in the lives of your youngsters but also in the lives of their friends. With your kids, you can see your impact. With their friends, it's hard to see the fruits of your labor, but they're ripening. Somewhere.
<>< Katie
Later he said something else I'd never really thought about before. He called parents volunteers. He supported that idea by saying they've volunteered their time and gas money to get their children to and from activities. They coordinate carpool, snacks, and game schedules... They're the volunteers that get the least amount of credit. Sunday night I got to see that idea in action.
There's a group of middle school girls currently a part of our confirmation class. As a class they sponsor me through an adopt a college kid ministry. Basically this means they send me packages periodically, I send them cards, and I visit them when I'm in town. I'm in town, so Sunday night I paid them a visit.
In case you've never spent time with eight 7th grade girls: they are crazy. To top it off, this was their end of the year party, so we had a chocolate fountain in class. BIG MESS, BIG MESS!
Yes, there was chocolate everywhere. As we were cleaning it up, I asked the leader how she was going to go about cleaning it. She explained she'd used the same fountain with her son's Sunday School class that morning, and she just let it sit in the sink all afternoon. Here I was thinking about how I never wanted to clean a chocolate fountain and she did it twice... today.
After the girls left, she was telling me some of their stories. Mind you, this is a middle class, primarily-white, suburban church. Well, a lot of the students in her group came from single parent/ divorced homes. Most of them weren't just a "it is what it is" situation but rather there was baggage. A "Mom died six days after she was told she had two months to live" story. A "Dad's got a girlfriend abroad and spends most of his time there but also has primary custody of the kids." The ones that have two parents have heart-breaking stories, too. "Her brother died in the military." "Mom had the primary income, but then she lost her job, so they're living on Dad's part-time salary."
On the surface, these are average middle school girls who enjoy chocolate a bit too much, spend all summer in the swimming pool, and can't wait to go to camp. When you look a little deeper, they've all got stories that will break your heart.
"I'm just trying to make a difference," the leader said. She explained most of them are not in church other than confirmation class, so she struggles to find the balance between fun and teaching about God. "This may be their only opportunity to hear His word; that's a big responsibility on me," she explained, maybe not orally, but I heard it. "I've been trying so hard to reach this one girl, and I just can't seem to get through."
I told her I'd pray for her. And I did. All the way home. Those girls' stories tug on my heart-strings, and that woman's obedience to God's call and willingness to do what's right. She's an everyday, unsung hero. She's the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up, even if it means I have to clean a chocolate fountain twice in one day. As soon as I wrote that sentence, a little voice in my head said, "Why wait?" Why wait to be obedient and willing to volunteer your time, energy, and gas? So I ask you, why wait?
But this blog isn't about you and me. It's about this the volunteering that often goes unnoticed.
Parents, thank you for volunteering your time and making a difference, not just in the lives of your youngsters but also in the lives of their friends. With your kids, you can see your impact. With their friends, it's hard to see the fruits of your labor, but they're ripening. Somewhere.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Persistence Pays Off
There almost was no blog today because I've been entertaining all day. The only time I've had to be alone is when I've snuck in to the den to play Bejeweled Blitz (Yes, I am addicted to that facebook game). That is... until everyone was fixing to leave and we had a very important moment.
Every time we say goodbye in my family we always end up wrestling. Yes, there are a few reminders of our latest line, "No time for the ER on Christmas." It's not Christmas anymore, folks. Punching, hitting, flicking, and karate chopping is all legal. Right after we hug, I become the recipient of one of these things from my uncle. The problem is that he forgets I'm a girl and hits just a little too hard. I cry, he tells me I need to work on my speed, I grab his hat and disappear until I'm ready to forgive him. Anywhere from 30 seconds to five minutes later (yes, this is all while we've got coats on and are saying goodbyes) I come back and return the hat; he hugs me again (without hurting me). I've gotten a lot of self-defense lessons while fighting back tears. This has been happening for years; it's normal.
Today when we hugged he was holding a few boxes for Ziploc bags. After the hug, he picked up one of the boxes and went to hit me on the shoulder. With my left hand I grabbed the box and with my right hand I stole his hat. We stood there staring at each other both in shock.
I did it! I finally did it! I don't have any idea how it happened but the persistence paid off! Yes, I'm going to toot my own horn with this blog, but you have no idea how big of a deal this is! For my entire life I've been playfully beat up as part of "good-bye," and I finally was able to stand my ground!
<>< Katie
Every time we say goodbye in my family we always end up wrestling. Yes, there are a few reminders of our latest line, "No time for the ER on Christmas." It's not Christmas anymore, folks. Punching, hitting, flicking, and karate chopping is all legal. Right after we hug, I become the recipient of one of these things from my uncle. The problem is that he forgets I'm a girl and hits just a little too hard. I cry, he tells me I need to work on my speed, I grab his hat and disappear until I'm ready to forgive him. Anywhere from 30 seconds to five minutes later (yes, this is all while we've got coats on and are saying goodbyes) I come back and return the hat; he hugs me again (without hurting me). I've gotten a lot of self-defense lessons while fighting back tears. This has been happening for years; it's normal.
Today when we hugged he was holding a few boxes for Ziploc bags. After the hug, he picked up one of the boxes and went to hit me on the shoulder. With my left hand I grabbed the box and with my right hand I stole his hat. We stood there staring at each other both in shock.
I did it! I finally did it! I don't have any idea how it happened but the persistence paid off! Yes, I'm going to toot my own horn with this blog, but you have no idea how big of a deal this is! For my entire life I've been playfully beat up as part of "good-bye," and I finally was able to stand my ground!
<>< Katie
Thursday, July 31, 2008
2016
When I renewed my driver's license the other day, it now does not expire until 2016. That's eight years from now! I realized I may not have to renew my license again until I'm living in a different state! My mom commented that none of my family may be living here by 2016. What by 2016 I'm living in a different state and have a different name? Now that's creepy! BUT sometimes change can be good (ok, Lutherans, one, two, three GROAN!)...
My family and I were having a conversation the other day and it was quite humorous. My sister and I realized that I'm going to have little girl kids and she's going to have little boy kids. Why? Because she loves to run around like a crazed maniac and wrestle, etc. While I love to sit and cuddle and have tea parties, etc. After dinner the other day, Christina looked at me and said,
"Katie, if you have little girls, they can have my American Girl doll clothes." I thanked her and reminded her the clothes were mostly mine to begin with. ;-)
Laura then added with a laugh, "Katie, if you have little boys and I have little girls, you can have my little girls and I'll have your little boys."
"And Grandma will take them all to the zoo, right?" I added.
It was around this point that my dad returned from outer spaced and wondered what the heck we were talking about and quickly commented he wanted no more kids.
Last night between our two games of Life, I had no boy kids but three girl kids. Foreshadowing???
Sorry, no deep Biblical connection today. Tomorrow perhaps.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
My family and I were having a conversation the other day and it was quite humorous. My sister and I realized that I'm going to have little girl kids and she's going to have little boy kids. Why? Because she loves to run around like a crazed maniac and wrestle, etc. While I love to sit and cuddle and have tea parties, etc. After dinner the other day, Christina looked at me and said,
"Katie, if you have little girls, they can have my American Girl doll clothes." I thanked her and reminded her the clothes were mostly mine to begin with. ;-)
Laura then added with a laugh, "Katie, if you have little boys and I have little girls, you can have my little girls and I'll have your little boys."
"And Grandma will take them all to the zoo, right?" I added.
It was around this point that my dad returned from outer spaced and wondered what the heck we were talking about and quickly commented he wanted no more kids.
Last night between our two games of Life, I had no boy kids but three girl kids. Foreshadowing???
Sorry, no deep Biblical connection today. Tomorrow perhaps.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Welcome to my Nightmare
I went shopping today. I haven't done laundry in a month and my clothes still need to be pushed down in order for the drawers to close completely. I need new clothes like I need a hole in the head. There were a few things I needed like a new Pastor Mike swimsuit (another story for another day) and a pair of sandals, but really I didn't need to be at the store. It turned out to be a really (really) comical mother-daughter bonding time that I'm grateful for but shopping today hurt, too.
I'm in the fitting room going through my normal mental rant about how they don't make clothes for people. Sure, it looks great on the manikin, but come on. How am I supposed to honor God with clothes like this? That's not very flattering, but look, two of me could fit in the next size up. This isn't working! I literally tried on ten pair of shorts and none of them fit. Talk about depressing! All of the sudden, from a neighboring fitting room I hear a girl (probably in her early teens maybe) screamed,
"NOTHING FITS!"
Amen, Sista I said in my head (ok, not quite, but pretty close).
"I HATE THIS STORE!" Either there were tears streaming down this poor girls face or she's a really good actress. I heard her friends laughing in another dressing room. "YOU GUYS DON'T UNDERSTAND! NOTHING EVER FITS!"
"Welcome to the story of my life," I wanted to say aloud.
This girl broke my heart. Maybe it was that she was experiencing the same problem I was. I don't know how many articles of clothing she tried on. I don't know why they don't fit. I do know she was frustrated to the point of tears. Chances are, she's not going to go home and forget about her experience in the fitting room today. Today could be the day she stops eating because she thinks she's too fat. If clothes were made for real people, maybe we wouldn't have so many young girls suffering from anorexia and bulimia. Just a thought.
<>< Katie
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
I'm in the fitting room going through my normal mental rant about how they don't make clothes for people. Sure, it looks great on the manikin, but come on. How am I supposed to honor God with clothes like this? That's not very flattering, but look, two of me could fit in the next size up. This isn't working! I literally tried on ten pair of shorts and none of them fit. Talk about depressing! All of the sudden, from a neighboring fitting room I hear a girl (probably in her early teens maybe) screamed,
"NOTHING FITS!"
Amen, Sista I said in my head (ok, not quite, but pretty close).
"I HATE THIS STORE!" Either there were tears streaming down this poor girls face or she's a really good actress. I heard her friends laughing in another dressing room. "YOU GUYS DON'T UNDERSTAND! NOTHING EVER FITS!"
"Welcome to the story of my life," I wanted to say aloud.
This girl broke my heart. Maybe it was that she was experiencing the same problem I was. I don't know how many articles of clothing she tried on. I don't know why they don't fit. I do know she was frustrated to the point of tears. Chances are, she's not going to go home and forget about her experience in the fitting room today. Today could be the day she stops eating because she thinks she's too fat. If clothes were made for real people, maybe we wouldn't have so many young girls suffering from anorexia and bulimia. Just a thought.
<>< Katie
"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20
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