Father, I read about a young woman this morning. A young woman whose life intersected with yours as no one else’s. A woman who became the mother of a baby born to die, sent to save. I’ve noticed these words about Mary before, Father. Twice you tell us she “treasured these things in her heart” (Luke 2:19, 51). Isn’t that just like a woman? We tend to hold things close. We watch. We ponder. And we remember. We take few things at face value. We want to find the deeper meaning whether it’s there or not. Sometimes, this frees us. Other times, this traps us as we review painful events and conversations. Father, today I lift up my fellow women to you. I lift up those faraway and those near, those I know and those I don’t know. I ask You to redeem this treasuring quality of ours. Help us to hold fast to that which is good and to repel anything evil or dark. Help us cling to you more than to our memories. Help us not be bound by our thoughts, wishes, and dreams but to find freedom in the ones you give.  Help us, oh Father, to seek you first. To find you in the stillness as Mary did so that when you come to us (as you promised), we’re ready to receive your words and your truth. Whether our calling is amazing or expected, typical or radical, Lord, allow us to demonstrate Mary’s willingness to follow. Let us have her heart, her spirit to drop our own activities and enter into yours. And Father? I ask you to allow us to  experience your breath, your touch, your holiness that transforms each day,  each moment into something to treasure. Allow us, dear Jesus, to treasure you. In Your holy and gracious and worthy name I pray—AMEN.  How do you cling to the good and eliminate the less-than-best? How do you maintain purity in those things you “treasure in your heart”? Share with...

 Father, how can I help but thank you for the amazing victories we witnessed yesterday? Thank you that so much about the day’s events spoke of you, from heartfelt tears and hugs to the miner who dropped to his knees. Thank you for the technological expertise that made the rescue safe and smooth. Thank you for the miners’ relative health and safety. Thank you for their physical and emotional strength. Thank you for your provision of so many little things that became big things during their time underground. God, I also want to thank you for the way you used this captivity to begin the process of freedom. You shed your light on illicit relationships, addictions, and other bonds. I pray that as these men heal and recover, they will continue to confront these issues and—more importantly—confront you. Jesus, I know so many of us remain captive. The enemy longs to keep us there, bound by sin and self. But you’ve broken his power by your shed blood on the cross.  Shatter these bonds, Lord Jesus, with the truth that sets free. Use our weakness and need to draw us closer to you. In your holy, life-giving,  chain-shattering name I...

A few months ago, I started posting prayers on my Facebook page. Well, not exactly prayers, but prayer-thoughts or notices about prayers I was praying. I asked God to show me a particular need, prayed, then posted a brief summary on my blog (“Marti Pieper is praying for . . .:) At first, I hesitated to do this. It’s too easy for prayer-publishing to become prayer-trumpeting. And if you’ve read my recent Disclaimer post, you know I’m far from a prayer expert. For those reasons, I kept my prayer-summaries short (one sentence) and simple (no explanations). God has a way of shining His glory through small things. And that’s what He did with those prayer-thoughts. As time passed, more and more people responded, so I posted them more often. Some thanked me for my prayers. Others blessed me with their honesty as they admitted a need. Still others told me my words prompted prayers of their own. And some gave a “thumbs-up” of affirmation (who doesn’t need a thumbs-up every so often?).  Of course, I experienced the blessings of those prayers as well. God and I agreed: I wouldn’t post a prayer unless I’d first prayed it. And His grace kept me praying it throughout the day.   I don’t plan to stop my prayer-summaries anytime soon. But the response and His quiet voice have led me to move beyond the summary. So far, I’ve used the PRAY days of my blog to teach some things God’s taught me about prayer. I’ll still do that sometimes. But today and in others to come, I want to post an actual prayer. Please know I intend these only as one small way to speak to God, to direct others’ thoughts and prayers, and to allow Him to use my words as He desires. Feel free to comment with a prayer need or other note. Thanks for reading, following, and especially for joining me in prayer. Father, Thank You that you are a great God and a great King above all gods. Today I come to You to lift up those who are victims of breast cancer. The pink ribbons are precious, the publicity incredible, but the disease itself is horrible. I see the enemy’s hand every time I learn of another friend who’s received this vicious diagnosis.  Dear Jesus, be with those dear women (and men) today. No matter where they are in the cancer journey, their lives will never be the same. Thank You for the bodies You have fearfully and wonderfully made. Thank You for the medical expertise which has yielded this diagnosis. God, give these precious ones gratitude in the midst of their suffering and peace in the midst...

The disclaimer posted on my blog informs readers that sometimes I receive free books in exchange for reviews in the READ portion of my blog. I don’t allow this to affect my review, but I want people to know the truth. Today, I want to give a similar disclaimer about PRAY. For some time, I’ve known God had made me an intercessor—or, as Henry Blackaby puts it, a “knee” in the body of Christ. The same creative, perceptive qualities that make me a good writer also make me a sensitive intercessor. My reading, writing, and prayers have long been intertwined. That’s how the READ.WRITE. PRAY brand came to be. BUT (this is the disclaimer part): I’m not a prayer expert.I have a deep concern that I not be seen as some kind of super-spiritual person, a person who knew God in way others couldn’t or didn’t. Jesus makes Himself accessible and available to all. He leaves none of us as orphans; He comes to us (John 14:18). And once we know Him by faith, the Holy Spirit gives us constant access to His ear and His heart. So Marti and her prayers are only as special as everyone else and theirs. This disclaimer follows a sad occurrence. I’m preparing to teach about prayer in November at iGO, Awe Star Ministries’ annual missions conference. It’s one of my favorite events of the year, one where I gain more than I give. But as I prepare, I face battles. Apparently, I need to recognize what I don’t know so I can teach it. Yesterday, God made my inadequacies all too clear. In the midst of a busy day, I received a phone call. I’d already shuttled children back and forth to work and classes, taught my daughters, and needed some solid writing time. I knew I only had an hour at home before I had to leave again. The person who called me had a health concern. Now, she often has a health concern, and often blows it out of proportion. I had a busy week with multiple writing assignments looming. I had those excuses—not my Savior or my caller—first in my heart and mind. I listened with half an ear, gave some pat answers, rolled my eyes, and hung up as quickly as I could. And then—God grabbed my heart. And what He said left me unable to write for the remaining time I had at home. Marti, you plan to teach about “the least of these” and how prayers for them connect to my heart. Don’t you know the one who called you is the least of these? Dear child, if the call had come from a close friend,...

As a motivator, guilt works—sometimes. As a mom, I’ve used it more often than I should. But I also found that shaming my children into action didn’t work nearly as well as positive words, Scriptural admonition, or honest heart-sharing. Guilt has, at times, seemed like a great way to motivate my husband. And I’ve succumbed to that temptation far too often. But husbands (at least the one I know) also seem to respond much better to respect and loving encouragement than to rants of any kind. Action flows from positive relationship, not negative emotion. If I were going to give one piece of marital advice to newlyweds, it would be to institute early the habit Tom and I now have: praying together every morning and every night. God used prayer to draw me to Himself, and it has remained a vital force in my walk with Christ. As a newlywed, I longed to share times of prayer with my husband, but somehow, it rarely happened. We prayed more when we were engaged than in our early years of marriage. Busy work and school schedules, multiple places of employment, our first two children arriving ten months apart—you name it, we had the excuse. Deep down, I didn’t want to press my husband to pray because I enjoyed the leverage that not praying gave me. He was the “spiritual head,” so if we didn’t pray together, it must be his fault. How’s that for twisted logic of the not-so-spiritual kind? I’m ashamed to admit it, but that’s how my thinking went. Yes, we prayed with our children every night and most morning. We prayed at key times and for particular events. But as a couple, our times of genuine prayer together went begging. It took a time of pain to change us. Several years ago, in the midst of a season of seeming despair, a dear friend shared with us the Scripture I’ve quoted here before, “Neither know we what to do; but our eyes are upon Thee” (2 Chronicles 20:12, KJV). My husband and I made the determination not to allow the enemy to take us down and out. We had experienced deep loss, but we were not going to lose our walks with Christ or our love for one another. Because we didn’t know what to do, we prayed—and cried—and prayed together. Soon, our act of desperation became a habit. And our habit fulfilled a need for new levels of marital intimacy. It’s hard to pray with someone when you’re harboring anger or bitterness. So if we choose to continue our prayer habit, we also choose to resolve any issues between us. We choose not to let the sun...

I had an extra privilege during the SUSIE Magazine missions trip to Guatemala. On Sunday, July 4, our teams did not travel to do ministry. Instead, we spent much of the day in worship and rest. In the afternoon and evening, various students and leaders offered hour-long E.I.E.I.O.K. (“Everything I Ever Intended On Knowing”) seminars. Participants could choose from classes in balloon animal-making to resume-writing to prayer to spiritual gifts. The only complaint I heard was that there were too many intriguing possibilities! I taught a seminar on Dangerous Prayer, a class I’ve also taught at iGO, the annual missions conference of Awe Star Ministries. Thanks to the promotional work of the Holy Spirit and one vocal Leader in Training (thanks, Jed!), my two identical sessions were well-attended. I had to visit the Business Center and print more handouts than the fifty I’d brought along. One of my new friends (a professional speaker) attended the seminar. She blessed me by saying how much she enjoyed it and gave me some tips for improvement, too. But in a later conversation, this friend had some questions about prayer. As my roommate during our training time, she’d noticed that when my husband called at night, he and I prayed together. She asked me about this and mentioned how it had blessed her. The two of us had a great conversation about what God’s shown me praying for my family and how she could become more active and effective in praying for hers. What amazed me was that my friend, although she learned from the seminar, didn’t ask about the specific points of my lesson. Instead, she wanted to know more about something she’d seen in my life and how she could apply it to hers. This experience reminded me that, in the same way I’d learned to “live the story” (see 7/20 blog posting), I could “live the teaching,” too. Tomorrow, my husband and I celebrate twenty-seven years of marriage (woo hoo!). I’ll share more about our prayer habit in another blog. But as I prepare to teach at the Greater Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference next week, I’m asking God to help me live my teaching. The words I say will have little power unless my life (along with my writing) shows their truth. Our words matter. Our lives matter...