Full-of-Grace
faith-driven lifestyle
Full-of-Grace
faith-driven lifestyle
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Grace blooming from your dustFrom Dust To Grace
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THRESHOLD CALLING Standing at the threshold, draped in crimson silk that speaks of both flesh and life, I challenge my own assumptions: What does a woman called by God look like? This dress speaks of paradoxes, it hosts both: blood and light. I see myself, and ask would God really want such a one as I? Yet here I stand, my silver cross a bridge between Moab's abundance and Bethlehem's dust. RUTH'S EXODUS Like Ruth, I leave the certainties of Moab. Yes, there was bread there, but of the kind that empties my hungry soul. So often when I reference God in consecrated spaces, hands are shaken, brows are furrowed. Time after time, when I brought...
Asher day 7: Mercy
Once more!" Hannah's strawberry-blonde curls tickle Asher's arm as she nestles closer, like a small bird finding its nest. Her touch is feather-light, yet it anchors him to now – to peace, to presence. So different from the chains that once bound...
Asher day 6: From afar
Dawn paints the shore in pearl and gold. Peter's muscles quiver with sweet exhaustion as he guides the boat's bow onto sand. His body remembers every wave they fought, every strike of water against wood, but now – finally – he can breathe. The...
Asher day 5: Be still
Stone kisses flesh. Asher's moan echoes against tomb walls as he drives his fist against unyielding rock. Pain blooms like fire through his hand, racing up his arm, setting every nerve alight. "Yes," he breathes, voice thick with something between...
Asher day 4: Don’t you care
Salt stings Peter's eyes as he hauls against the oar, every muscle screaming defiance at the storm. The boat – his livelihood, his inheritance, his second home since boyhood – betrays him now, bucking like an unbroken colt. His feet slide on the...
Asher day 3: Smashing the fetters
"No, no, no—" The word pulses through Asher's body like fever, each repetition forcing his spine to arch against cold stone. Rain needles his exposed skin, but he's burning from within. His bound fists clench and unclench in desperate rhythm, like...
Asher day 2: The other side
Peter's knuckles whiten against the oar, muscles burning with each pull against the churning sea. Sweat mingles with spray on his weathered face, trickling down his neck despite the biting wind. The boat pitches beneath him – familiar motion...
Asher day 1: Among the tombs
The setting sun bleeds into the sea, painting waves in copper and crimson. Asher's fingernails dig into his palms as he watches white tombs emerge from gathering darkness – pure, untouchable, mocking his uncleanness. His chest constricts with each...
Seven Nights with Asher: Laws written in blood and stone
Last chances pile up like stones in my hands – each one heavy with promise, sharp with failure. I've built monuments of them, these final attempts. Each morning whispers "today will be different," and each night echoes with familiar defeat. My...
Asher of Gerasa: From Tombs to Freedom
You know that space between midnight and dawn, when your own heartbeat sounds too loud in your ears? When promises lie broken like shells on the shore of another failed day? This story is for you. Come walk among the tombs with a man who tried...