Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Sharing Jesus


At the closing of my “Walk to Emmaus” I declared, “I’m going to tell everyone I meet about Jesus.” That was eight months before a car wreck severed my spinal cord.

It took me a few years to believe my family still loved me. Through them and friends, I felt God’s love for me. As I slowly healed, I regained function in my arms. I learned to write and type with an adaptive splint on my right wrist. It was a slow and tedious process.

I attempted to lead small groups in the churches we pastored and each time I failed. I took a Basic Lay Speaking class. Everyone took notes and gave their talks. I thought, “What am I doing here? I can’t write fast let alone take notes,” and “I can’t talk and breathe well.”

I typed my testimony and handed a copy to every person who listened to my verbal telling of Jesus in my life. When I left a store, restaurant, or anywhere else without sharing my Jesus my heart was broken.

In one small group, we were discussing bringing the lost to Christ. I despondently said, 
“I’ve never lead anyone to Christ.”

A friend responded, “Oh, but Berta you plant seeds. When you get to heaven, you will see many people who came to Christ through the words you shared.

“What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth” (1 Corinthians 3:5-6 NIV).

In Christ,


Berta
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Thursday, September 17, 2015

Why Are You Afraid?




 
Why are you afraid?

I carry no contagion.
I do not bite or scratch.
I have no wounds in body.
My mind is quite intact.

I am alive.

By God's grace and healing.
You would know if only you spoke.
I will tell you about my God.
I will tell you about His yoke.

I am able.

To hear God's Word.
To worship Him–And pray.
To tell the old, old story.
That brought me to this day.

I sit in a wheelchair.

Do you see it?
Is it all you see?
I have a voice. Will you listen?
I am a person. Will you see me?

I step out in faith to tell you:

My heart cries every time you pass me by.
I long to share my glee.
You stare. You assume.
You don't see.   Me.

I am a person with a disability.

I am not a disability.

© 2009 Berta Dickerson