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The Sword of Christ I-The Grace of God

The Sword of Christ I-The Grace of God

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The Sword of Christ I-The Grace of God

Länge:
159 Seiten
2 Stunden
Herausgeber:
Freigegeben:
Jul 2, 2012
ISBN:
9781476358703
Format:
Buch

Beschreibung

From the beginning of time there has been a constant struggle over who has control of mankind. The devil and his legions walking the planet, touching lives, causing conflict with lies and deception; God always sending angels to warn us, to urge us to safety, giving us the tools of truth to fight against the conflict and come out on the other side victorious against evil. I am Laney. I was entrusted with one of God's tools. Sometimes I feel like I am standing still while the whole worlds spins around me. Me, alone holding it all in, making sure that all the pieces stay together and don't fly helplessly out into space. I've been told before that I am weak, small, tiny, they don't realize the amount strength it takes to live my life. They can't see the cracks and creases, actual holes in my heart, from enduring the constant pressure of my sacrifice. I walk with many but inside I face my past, my present and my future alone with the fear that I will let him down. That I won't be able to do what it is I'm suppose to do. Keeping silent the pain that tears at me and the reasons why and how God prepared me to carry The Sword of Christ.

Herausgeber:
Freigegeben:
Jul 2, 2012
ISBN:
9781476358703
Format:
Buch

Über den Autor

Born in Seattle,Washington and raised Olympia. Heidi now lives in Ohio. She is the mother of 5 grown children and the grandmother of 3. She has dedicated her life to God and the work he asks her to do. She is a writer/photographer/artist.


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The Sword of Christ I-The Grace of God - HM Weimar

The Sword of Christ

Part One

Grace of God

By

H.M. Weimar

~~~~

Copyright 2012 HM Weimar

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real

Persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

~~~~

Table of Contents

The Story

A Note from the Author

Connect with the Author Online

Information on Spiritual Gifts

Other Titles from This Author

~~~~

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to all the people who have supported and helped me along the way.

God for his son, his faith in me and the gifts he has provided to me, my words, my life and my faith. I am very blessed with his forgiveness and the best counselor ever.

My Dad who I miss so much but will always be with me. My Mom and my children, Beau, Jessica, Jazmin, Mykayla and Gianna, My brothers Robert and Chuck Weimar, Anne Mckinley, my extended family, Dale Shelley, Gary and Becky Stanley, My other relatives who are too long to list, who have believed in me and supported every choice I've made, even when they didn't agree. I have an incredible family. I am so proud of all of you.

All my friends and people in my life that have helped me to survive the madness of my life these last few years:

My friends who have been constant rocks for me and helped me struggle to get back up. Who believed in me from beginning to end and never gave up on me: Joanna Felt, Katie Schrupp, Mavrick McClure, Latawn Kimber, Karen White, Michael Lutz, Victor Sequoin, Michelle Reif and her family and John Friend. My 2nd ex-husband, Steven Bay, who, although we had our troubles, did believe in my writing and knew exactly what it meant to me.

My new friends in Ohio who helped me make it here, helped me live when I didn't know how I was going to and grew to be my new support system in a place where I knew no one: Jason Hough and Sheila McNichols, their kids; Angel, Zachary and Nicholas, Emmy Elson and her family, Dave Taylor, Paul Mozzochi, My friends at Chestnut Crossing, who fed me not only food but friendship and support: Mary(Becky) Roof and her family, Angie Cantrell, Virginia Baker, Amy Burnside, Melissa, Tina, Cassie, Liz, Betty, Angel, Annette, all the children who followed me everywhere, climbed trees and played outside with me.

All my online friends who gave me encouragement and helped urge me forward along the way. All the people who read my work, online and off, and have given me comments that have touched my heart. All who have popped in and out of my life, encouraged and enlightened me.

Thank you to all of you for believing in the words that God gives me. For everything you added to my life, for everything you helped me move forward through and for believing in who I was even when I lost sight of it.

I Am So Blessed and Love You All

~~~~

Prologue

Your mine little girl, I've had you since you were able to walk. I groomed you and made you what you are. Do not turn away from me. The voice rose from a near by hill and echoed into the valley where she knelt, head bowed, eyes closed, tears dripping slowly down her cheeks.

I don't want to be yours, she whispered.

Laughter echoed from the hilltop, Don't want to be mine? How can you not be? I own you and all your gifts and I won't let you go. No one will want you; no one will forgive you for what you’ve done. The voices in your head will not stop unless you choose my side and fight for me.

I won't fight for you. I can't fight for you. I have nothing left, nothing to fight with or for.

I can make those voices stop. You won't have to hear them anymore or see what walks this earth beside man. Just give in to me, have peace, the voice got louder, yelling the words, choose me.

Lord, I feel so lost. I can't hear you over his words. I can't see your light or your path. Have you abandoned me? Have I been so wrong that I will never be forgiven? Hear me Lord. Forgive me Lord. She prayed as the laughter echoed again throughout the valley.

He will not save you. He doesn't love you like I do. He hasn't spent one ounce of thought on you. He will not show his face to you like I do.

Suddenly a low hum could be heard over the laughter and she raised her head, opening her eyes. She felt warmth as a light wind blew across her. Are you here?

Yes, I am here, said a soft voice that seemed to be all around her yet coming from no where.

What do I do?

He is right; you must choose which side you want to fight for.

Lord, I will always take your side. I choose you for eternity. How could there be any doubt?

Then you must demand that he let you go and give you back what you lost. You must be covered by the blood of Christ.

Please Lord help me. He won't let me go.

Laughter rang out louder. Your right, I won't. Stop making the girl think she can just walk away from me.

Then the soft voice said,just choose.

I did Lord, I choose you. I demand he let me go and give me back what was mine. Her voice rose as she turned her head toward the laughter. I demand you let me go and give me back what was mine. You have no right to me or my gifts. I am a child of God and I fight for him, not you.

The low hum that was rumbling throughout the valley rose and the sound of great wings could be heard as the wind from their beating moved the grass around her. She looked down, at her knees laid the gift that God had promised her would be returned. It was dull and tarnished, worn from being in the hands of the enemy but it was the blade she had envisioned in her dreams. The size and shape were exactly as she remembered.

I want it to shine again like it did in my visions. She picked it up and held it in front of her, the valley became silent, the laughter and wind became silent for what seemed an eternity. Then the hum began turning to voices, glorious singing voices and the sun began to rise and in the light walked Jesus across the field. She watched as he approached her. She held the sword upright with both hands and bowed her head. Jesus touched the tip of the sword with the palm of his right hand and pricked it, his blood flowing down the sword and onto her hands. With his left hand he reached under her chin and lifted her head. She looked at him and he smiled. It is done, he said to her before he turned and walked away.

She stood, the sword upright in front of her and she raised it into the air with both hands. I take your side Lord. I fight for you. I will stand with you and battle any demon that steps in our way. A bolt of lightning burst from the sword and shot straight into the sky. Loud thunder rumbled through the valley, shaking the hills. The voice from the hill now screamed with anger. I am not done with you. I will have you and your sword. I will win.

You can't have this sword even if you had me. I don't own it. I may carry the weight of the world in it but it is the sword of Christ and blessed with his blood. In the light of the sun the sword shined as the voice from the hilltop screamed and disappeared into the shadows.

~~~~

Ready to Ride

By HM Weimar and God

Hidden in the light,

I wander along.

Dragging the sword

that God has made strong.

Searching and fighting,

The demons till death.

Trying to hold on,

To take my next breath.

Holding onto the weak,

To give them my strength.

Protecting through God,

Who has trained me at length.

Tired of seeing

The demons arise.

I’m the strength and protector,

Try me on for size.

Demons they think

They have some hold on the weak.

But with God’s words I rise

And I am not meek.

The demons can run

But they can not hide.

Beside me is God

And we’re Ready to Ride.

~~~~

Chapter One

The sun had been down for a few hours and the fog was settling in slowly. The heaviness of the moisture caused it to drop lower to the ground, cooling the air as summer was fading and fall was around the corner. Soon the winds would pick up and the fog would blow away, being replaced by fallen leaves colored with the reds, brown and oranges of autumn. Like hardened snowflakes, they will soon be crunching under the movement of the travelers crossing from place to place in this troubled city. Nothing used to be louder than the crunching in this silent town until lately, now it was the gun fire that was being heard from one end of the boundaries to the other. Most people that lived here were so unused to hearing guns that it could be mistaken for the fireworks that were sold at the reservation in the valley. It wasn't the boom of colors but it was in the hills and on the streets that worked through the city like spider webs, connecting neighborhood to neighborhood. Roads, built as a convenience for mankind, opened routes for things to spread, and they did.

A 15 year old boy walked alone down a dimly lit street. His head covered with the hood of a sweatshirt shaded from the street lights that glowed through the fog, his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. The sound of his pant legs, swishing and dragging on the ground was heard by a dog that barked as he passed outside the fence. He turned his head and looked back listening to the dog, but his legs continued on, walking quickly across the sidewalk, streets and alley openings. He was intent on making it home quickly. There was no where that was safe at night not even in the quietness of this neighborhood outside the view of the city lights.

In the distance he heard a car engine. It sped down the street and slowed when he came into view. The blackness of a gun barrel appeared through a window that was slowly being lowered. He turned to view the car as the light caught the barrel. He wasn't getting home quick enough.

He slowly pulled his hands from his pockets and revealed in the light the revolver that was concealed there. His body turned toward the car as his legs tried to pick up their pace. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, panic hit him.

The car pulled up along the sidewalk next to him and didn’t stop. A shot rang out. The bullet thrusting out of the chamber and glided effortlessly forward, headed toward the center of his chest. There was no time for him to fire. Fear had frozen his hands. He watched the bullet approach, the moment engraving itself on his memory in slow motion.

Suddenly there was a gold flash and an audible clink was heard just before the bullet dropped to the ground, useless. The boy fell backward against the fence and the car stopped. The passenger of the car could be

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