Rebekah Speaks

Doors are underrated and unappreciated. Just think. When was the last time you thanked God for a door? Probably never, huh? Consider the door. Some are grand and elaborate. When traveling through Europe, magnificent, massive cathedral doors are surpassed only by what is found beyond. But those are the exception rather than the rule. Many common everyday doors are non-descript hinged slabs of wood or metal. Some have big windows, little windows, or may be completely see through. Doors can be gleaming and clean, others worn and warped. Brown, black, red, yellow, blue, purple, chartreuse. You name it: you can find a door of any color. Regardless of size, color, or material, all doors have one thing in common: They are in the context of a wall. Doors provide a necessary passageway through a solid obstacle. No door means no entry, no way to get to the other side. If we try to smash our way through the wall, we come away bruised, bleeding, and battered. We need the door. So here...

Tres' foot Seriously? Calling this foot beautiful is like calling an elephant petite. This thing with five toes pointing the way is swollen, hairy, and sports colors an artist would covet. The only good thing is that it's probably been soaked and thus, has been de-stinkified. But still, it's hardly comparable to a sunset laden in hues of orange and yellow and brilliant gold while viewed from lofty mountain peaks. Feet of the unknown So, how about these feet, the owner of which shall remain nameless for obvious  reasons of privacy and protection from epic embarrassment. The bony, veined, crooked and calloused pedestals have been through the ringer, leaving more than a few toenails behind, some of which have never been seen again. Nine fractures, seven incisions, six screws. Too many miles to count--or at least recall. Nope. Not very beautiful (unless you happen to be an amputee willing to settle for anything). But I'll tell you what is beautiful. It's the...

You are what you eat. At least that’s what some say, including my dear mother. Probably true. But perhaps just as valid is this: You are what you read. Think about it. My Mother (and probably many other mothers across this fine country) was also known to say, “Garbage in. Garbage out.” I suspect the opposite is also true: “Beauty in. Beauty out.”   Bob Hostetler recognized beauty and truth when he was a young man. He was introduced to Samuel Logan Brengle when he read a biography on the life of the Salvation Army’s evangelist. Inspired by that life story, Hostetler consumed all of Brengle’s writings before his twentieth birthday. In a day when comic books may have been preferred over works describing sanctification and holiness, Hostetler internalized the truth and worked out the reality of those revelations in his own life and writing.. Though Brengle met his Lord in 1936, his words live on—only better. In a bold effort, Hostetler, a distinguished author himself, ed...