Sarah, the Princess – part 1

The first woman we’ll get to know better is Sarai, or Sarah, the name she is better known by. She was the wife of Abraham, and the mother of Isaac. Of course, what makes her story so unique is that she was 90 years old when she gave birth!

We meet Sarai, whose name means princess, in Genesis 11:29, 30, “Abram and Nahor too wives for themselves. The name of Abram’s wife was Sarai; and the name of Nahor’s wife was Milcah, the daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah and Iscah. Sarai was barren; she had no child.”

Coffee Beans

So, the first time we meet Sarai we learn three things about her – she lived in Ur of the Chaldeans which was a thriving metropolis; she was married to Abram; and she was barren. Just in case you don’t get what barren means, the verse reiterates – she had no child.

While infertility is something modern women face, and nobody can say it isn’t very painful and difficult, there was an added component in ancient culture. Because ancient culture was very cause and effect, if anything happened to you physically, it was sort of a given assumption by those around you, that you had done something bad to deserve it.

I have never personally struggled with infertility, but I have several friends who have, and one thing that seems to be a repeating theme is they feel somehow broken or defective – like their bodies have betrayed them by not working the way they should to conceive and/or carry a child. I’m sure that is very hard to work through.

Now what if you are infertile and you feel that way AND everybody is saying the fact that you can’t get pregnant is all your own fault – you must have done something to become barren? That’s how it would have been in ancient times. It wasn’t just a heartache – it was a shame. That woman walked around with a stigma hanging over her head like a neon sign blinking above her head – barren.

A woman’s husband could get rid of her because she couldn’t have children. Nobody would have looked askance at him either, if he took on another wife or two. In fact, the people who knew him would think he was very generous to keep his barren wife, even if he added more wives.

It kind of tells you the type of man Abram was because not only did he NOT divorce his wife because she couldn’t have children, but until Sarai basically threw her maid at him, Abram didn’t take any additional wives either. It appears that Abram saw Sarai as more than as a means to perpetuation his gene pool.

Added to the shame was the practical implications of being barren. There were no nursing homes. There was no social security or medicare or council for the aging. Your children were the ones that took care of you. If you had no children, well, it was a pretty scary prospect.

The word barren is the Hebrew word aqar which means sterile. The root of the word means to, “pluck up; rooted up or hamstring.” In other words, being barren meant the roots of your family tree were rooted up. It’s interesting that this word is also translated “lamed” elsewhere in the Bible. To not have children, certainly did cripple you in practical ways as you got older.

While not being able to have children is still a heartache for many couples, things are different these days. Not only are there medical options that weren’t available in Sarai’s day, but there aren’t the stigmas attached either.

That’s mainly because these days, as a general rule, we don’t believe that if you get cancer or a tragedy befalls your family then you must have done something bad to deserve it. There are those who still have this view, but they are in the minority.

At least, we <i>SAY</i> we don’t believe that. On the flip side though, there are a lot of people who question why bad things happen to good people. There are books, sermons, study series – all on this topic. If we believe that bad things aren’t a result of bad behavior, why do we believe good things are a result of good behavior? Or inversely, righteous living shouldn’t equal bad things happening.

There is a great quote – I <i>think</i> it is by Ernest Hemingway – that I had hanging in my classroom for years. It said, “Expecting bad things not to happen to you because you are a good person is like expecting a bull not to charge because you are a vegetarian.”

Even though I <i>love</i> that quote; even though I can chant the line that bad things happen independent of behavior; even though I can spout the promise that God works all things for good – I still fall into this thinking. I still tend to feel like it is unfair if unpleasant or difficult things befall me even – or to be honest especially – when I think I am doing the right things.

I guess the first thing we can learn from Sarai’s life is that following God is not an insurance plan against suffering. I think if we can truly understand that God is sovereign and He really DOES work everything out for good, we can let go of our expectations or at least not be completely blindsided when (not if ) bad things happen. I think there is a lot of peace to be found in truly accepting that life is not always fair or even understandable at times.

“The Lord has established His throne in the heavens; and His sovereignty rules over all.” Psalm 103:22

Blessings, Rosanne

Barren – A New Series in God’s Uncharted Paths

I was doing a series of lessons in my Sunday school class about women in the Bible. We studied the usual suspects, as well as some lesser known females that figure in the pages of Scripture. As I studied and looked deeper into the lives of these women, many of whose stories I had heard since I was a little girl in Sunday school, it hit me that many of them struggled with infertility to one degree or another.

Sarah was an old woman, well past menopause, when she had Isaac. Rebecca also had to wait a long time before she finally gave birth to twin boys: Jacob and Esau. Rachel watched her fertile sister Leah produce child after child, while her womb remained empty. Not even having her husband’s love filled the void she felt.

Barren series pic

As I looked at these women who struggled with infertility in a time when answers for empty arms were few and far between, I also saw another pattern that emerged. The  majority of these barren women went on to become the mothers of key players in the Bible’s pages.

Think about it. Isaac was Abraham’s heir. Jacob became Israel and father to the 12 tribes of Israel. Joseph saved a nation of people from starvation.

Over and over again, the barren women in the Bible played a key role in bringing up chosen children who made a big difference in the world. While their path to motherhood was not necessarily the one they would have chosen, God had a bigger plan in mind.

Since this is May and we just celebrated Mother’s Day, I thought it would be interesting to take a closer look at these women and what their lives can teach us. I have never struggled with infertility. When it was time to have our children, things were pretty easy for my husband and myself. However, I do know that many women struggle with infertility or not being able to have biological children of their own. I am adopted, so my mom knows this heartache firsthand. Others have suffered the loss of one or more miscarriages. Others wait and wait to adopt a child and it seems like it will never be their turn.

It seems every woman I’ve talked to or interviewed for an article or even read about that struggled with being infertility seems to wrestle with the feeling of being “less than” as a woman. As if not being able to reproduce made her a failure as a female. The thing is, though, no matter what your path to motherhood looks like, we need your stories.

It’s in the brokenness of deferred and denied dreams that God’s presence stands out the most. 

My wish is that this series offers hope and encouragement to all women no matter where you happen to be on the road to motherhood. Hope that God sees you. Hope that though the path might be uncharted to you, God has it all mapped out. 

My other wish is that this series brings us together as women. It’s when we understand each other’s stories that true sisterhood takes place.

Will you join me?

Blessings, Rosanne



Getting It All Together – Or Not

I wish I had it all together. I had hoped by the time I hit my fourth decade that I would have myself together – that meal planning, house cleaning and keeping on top of all those papers would be second nature to me by now.

But it’s not.

I had hoped by my fourth decade I would be happily living out God’s calling and purpose in my life, that I would have cultivated the fruits of the spirit so they weren’t mere buds but full blown fruit – ripe and ready to pick.

But I’m not.

I had hoped by my fourth decade I would have figured out how to do relationships without regret. That I would be able to prioritize the things that were truly important and not allow the urgent to drown those things out. That I would have learned to love well my husband, my children, my family and my friends.

But I haven’t.

I had sort of thought that by the time I hit the ripe old age of 41, I would have gotten the hang of being an adult, but instead, most days I still feel like I’m 17 (at least in mind, if not body) and clueless.

The truth is, I don’t have it all together – no matter how much I wish it was otherwise. And just when I think I might be approaching having it all together status, something comes along to knock me off course again. 

Mother Teresa door

The past few weeks, I’ve been doing a full time subbing job and I have come up hard against my physical limits. I am something of a wimp and getting up at 5:45 a.m. four days a week is killing me. By 1 p.m. every afternoon, I long for my couch so I can take a power nap. Even though I force myself to go to bed by 10 p.m., I still have to drag myself out of bed come morning. The sad fact is that I need a lot of sleep and when I don’t get it, I fall apart – and everything around me pretty much goes to pot!

The one day a week I have off is filled with errands and to dos and frantic trying to catch up from all the days I couldn’t get it done. It hasn’t helped that we have had something nearly every single evening and full weekends since I have been working full time.

Other women do this full time working thing and do it well. (My kids have been watching the Cosby Show and I really wish Claire Huxtable would come live at my house! She seems to together and grown up) I just don’t know HOW they do it! I haven’t really cleaned my house in three weeks and the paper piles are threatening to take over the counter (and I can’t really remember what is in said piles anymore either, but it’s likely the stamps I can’t find are probably lurking there).

But it’s okay not to have it all together. God doesn’t love me any more or any less based on my having it all together. In fact, God has a habit of using people who are messy and totally NOT together.

The people God used in the Bible were not pictures of success and perfection. Moses was living in exile in the desert after killing a man when God spoke to him out of a burning bush. David committed adultery and then murder to cover it up. Rahab was a prostitute. Abraham kept passing his wife off as his sister. Jacob’s life resembled something from Jerry Springer with all his wives and children.

God is not in the habit of using perfect people to accomplish His work. He’s more in the habit of perfecting people while they accomplish His work. 

All He needs is for us to say yes. Yes, even if we don’t have it all together.

I love this quote by Mother Teresa – although I have no idea where I read it at (if I had it all together, I would have written that down somewhere I could remember). “Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your own weakness.”

God’s love is so much bigger than my failings, and I am so grateful for that fact.

Blessings, Rosanne

Why I Can’t Enjoy Mother’s Day This Year

I heard about it on Facebook – not in the newspaper or CNN or the nightly news. On Facebook. It happened three weeks ago – over 200 Nigerian girls were kidnapped in the middle of the night from their school dormitory by men linked to a terrorist group.

They are still missing. Nobody who is anybody is doing anything about it.

Three weeks. Gone.

Three weeks of mothers, brothers, fathers – worried, wondering, waiting.


( photo with Youtube video at the end of this post)

I look into the eyes of this girl and my own brim with tears.
I look into this young girl’s solemn face and I can’t imagine being in her mother’s place.
I can’t imagine wondering what is happening to my daughter right now.

Because these aren’t empty worries. These aren’t the worries I have – if my son will catch up on his homework after a long illness or if my older son is a bit late coming home and I’m wondering if I should call the hospital. These mothers’ worries are based on bitter reality, on devastating daily life.

My heart breaks to know that a father, a brother or an uncle road into a forested area where the terrorists are supposed to be – unarmed. So he could bring his girl back.

Today in Ann Voskamp’s blog I read, “Women aged fifteen through forty-four are more likely to be maimed or die from male violence than from cancer, malaria, traffic accidents, and war combined.”

These girls were just trying to get an education. Instead they were abducted, probably sold as brides to violent men who do not care about their intellect or emotions or soul.

I sit here in my little house in a corner of Ohio. Kids are playing outside, riding their bikes, laughing. The sun is shining after a long winter.

A world away, despite a blazing sun, a winter of the heart sets in for hundreds of mothers and fathers.

No, I can’t enjoy Mother’s Day this year. Not when 200+ mothers weep for daughters that may never return.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted; He saves those who are crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous but the Lord delivers them out of them all.” Psalms 34: 17, 18

Blessings, Rosanne


p.s. You can watch a video that gives a bit more info on individual girls here.

When Life is Messy

Five Minute FridayToday is 5 Minute Friday. It’s when women from all over, take 5 unedited minutes to write about a word provided by Lisa Jo Baker. Today’s word, very aptly, was mess! You can check out other posts or join in here.

There are piles of papers and books spread across on the kitchen table.
Dishes are stacked in the sink.
A baseball uniform is still in the washing machine (remind me to switch that to the dryer, would you?)
Shoes are piled by the doorway and coats are slung over the chair by the front door.
My school bag is lying on it’s side, the contents spilling out onto the floor and my purse is propped drunkenly against the television stand.

A wastebasket overflows with tissues and a TV tray holds a hug plastic bottle of water, a box of tissues, a thermometer and a discarded hospital band.

This has been a messy week after another chaotic week. My youngest son, Brody, spent Tuesday and part of Wednesday in the hospital because of double pneumonia. I didn’t see that one coming even though he has been home sick since last Wednesday.

Of course, I stayed with him, so the things that clamored at home had no audience in me. Deadlines got pushed back and to do lists were forgotten as I sat by a hospital bed that made my almost 13 year old son looks small and frail. Eight pounds – the size of a healthy newborn – was a lot to lose.

The only thing on my mind, in the midst of the mess, was my son getting better and stronger.

It was April. I thought the season of illness was over. I didn’t plan on life getting turned upside down and everything falling into a mess. I had things planned out and scheduled so I could handle a long term sub job, my weekly newspaper articles and almost non-stop baseball.

I planned on being so disciplined in holding to my schedule so I could get it all done. I was fearful of “something happening” and messing up my plan.

I didn’t plan for something like this. I didn’t planon extra laundry and pill schedules and keeping up fluids and no time to straighten or organize or get ahead. I had no other option but to dwell in the mess.

So, I let it go. (and no I’m not going to start singing the song from Frozen) I let the expectations of others and my own even heavier expectations all go.

And God met me in the mess. Instead of freaking out which is my normal response to any kind of crisis. I was calm, peaceful. I shrugged my shoulders when I thought maybe I wouldn’t meet deadline this week for my articles. It wasn’t the end of the world – in fact, the world would keep spinning just fine and dandy without me. My focus sharpened on y priorities rather than a list of should dos.

I discovered that joy and peace is found in surrendering to the mess rather than always trying to fix it.
Blessings, Rosanne

A Gift Wrapped in Disappointment

I had plans – big plans. I had an editorial calendar and it all made sense in my head. But then life happened. Life with it’s busyness and it’s disregard for my plans, my schedule, my list of to dos.

After a whole school year of good health, we’ve had a week of sickness. A week of sickness that followed hard on the heels of losing a friend to cancer too early and starting a long term subbing job earlier than expected.

My oldest had the stomach flu last week, and my youngest had some fever on Friday. It disappeared only to return Tuesday night with a vengeance. I’ve made soup, taken temperatures, and pushed fluids. did I mention I am not a natural nurse?

I have missed baseball games, my oldest son’s award assembly, part of a day of work, and get togethers. I’ve been a little disappointed that illness has tied me to home – keeping me from all the plans I made.

I was feeling pretty grumbly about it tonight, but you know, sometimes gifts come wrapped in disappointment.

Forest road. Landscape for background

It wasn’t the week I had planned, but this week I’ve gotten to slow down – no rushing around or flitting off to games. Instead, I sit and I’m still. I get to spend time with my youngest (who will be 13 in a little over a month), and he leans his head on my shoulder and seeks out the comfort only mom can give.

And it’s a gift because I don’t know how much longer that will happen.

I don’t really remember the last time I picked him up and carried him. I just know that one day I realized it had been a long time and he was too big to heft in my arms.

I don’t remember the last time he sat on my lap. I just know that one day, I realized it was a long time and he was now much too cool to cuddle with mom.

The days go by slowly but the years pass swiftly when you have young kids. These days, I look back with nostalgia at when my kids were tiny and our time was our own. Rushing from games to practices to activities is a part of this season of my life. I’m sure in about 10 years, I’ll look back at it fondly, too and wonder why I savor the moments more.

But this week, I got to slow down and just be with my youngest. While I hate that he’s been sick and under the weather, I can’t help but feel that this time is a gift, a gift I almost didn’t find wrapped up in the disappointment of changed plans.

As I wrap up this month of looking at God’s promises, I am once again reminded that God knows the plans He has for us, and often they aren’t what we had planned. I’m reminded that God often doesn’t give us what we think we want, but what we truly need.

What need has God met unexpectedly in your life lately? I’d love to hear about it!
Blessings, Rosanne

5 Minute Friday – Glue

Today, I’m joining Lisa Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday. This is when women from all over the world link up after writing for five minutes (no editing allowed!) on a specific word. This week’s word is “Glue.”

Five Minute Friday

This week has been one of those types of weeks – you know, where nothing has gone as planned and every word that comes out of my mouth just seems wrong.

I am doing a long term subbing job and had to start a week earlier than I had planned. On Tuesday, I found a cyber friend had lost her battle with cancer. 🙁 On Wednesday, my oldest son woke up throwing up. On Thursday, I spent my day running all over the place in some kind of Laurel and Hardy type farce over my car. No lie – I had not even gotten home from picking up the rental car the dealership gave me because they forgot to align my car and missed a bent strut from an accident, when the body shop called to tell me my car was ready. It would have been funny – if it hadn’t been.

Add to this, that somehow, all week long, I felt like I had been putting my foot wrong with everyone. Do you ever feel like that? I really hate to upset people or hurt their feelings. I’m not a huge fan of confrontation or conflict. Over the years, I’ve gotten better at this, but at my worst, I can dissect something I’d said over and over and tie myself up in knots over how my words might have been taken or perceived. I can get caught up in this even if I have no clues from the other person that there is even a problem. Instead, I torture myself over how I could have said it differently or if the person might be upset and just not telling me. I wonder if perhaps I should contact that person again and try to clarify or explain myself better (ever hear of digging yourself a hole – I would be the Queen Digger).

So, to say I felt unglued would be an understatement. It was an unglued type of week.

When I read the word for today in my email this morning, I thought how ironic it was that during a week when I felt everything was unglued, the word was glued.

As I sat and spent time with Jesus this morning, I realized just WHY I felt so unglued. With all the crisis happening this week and having to get up extra early, my hour with Jesus hadn’t happened. At all. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t shooting up prayers. But I certainly wasn’t doing any quiet, settled time with God. The result was a very unglued woman – me!

I also realized as I continued my Bible study on spiritual warfare, that that horrible feeling of saying the wrong thing to everyone was just another tactic from the enemy. He loves to isolate us, to separate us from the body because a solitary person is so much easier to take down than one in a group.

Because I had not been spending time with Jesus, soaking in His Truth, I had not even realized the sneak attack that was going on.

For me, the glue that holds it all together is Jesus. When I don’t spend that time sitting at His feet, I am just setting myself up to become unglued.

What things does the enemy use to make you feel unglued?

Blessings, Rosanne

When Someone Leaves an Imprint on Your Heart – Remembering Kim

I knew her as MommaK. I met her probably 8 or 9 years ago on an online mom’s board. Even though we never met in real life, I counted Kim as a friend.

Early Tuesday morning, after a long, courageous battle with cancer, Kim stepped from this life into the presence of Jesus.

meteor-like sun

Kim was not just my friend. She touched many lives on the mom’s board through her gentle, sweet ways. If you had a prayer request or a concern, you could always count on MommaK to post she was praying.

She went out of her way to post on the “lonely” threads that hadn’t gotten much traffic. She didn’t often say a lot, but when she did say something, it was always like an arrow that hit the mark. You know the type of person I mean – they don’t talk a ton but what they do say seems meaningful and important.

Kim left behind not just her husband Jeff, but seven children ages 11 up to 23.

I know Kim didn’t want to leave her family, and her husband and children were what worried her the most when it became apparent that her battle with cancer wasn’t going to be won here on earth.

When I read the news yesterday morning, I couldn’t help the tears that spilled over. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that MommaK won’t have any more posts – that she is truly gone.

While I knew that Kim was nearing her final days, I didn’t expect to lose her so very quickly. When she posted that doctors said they could do nothing else for her, she was told she had several months to maybe a year. She wanted to make a family cruise scheduled for June.

Instead, she was gone in two weeks. Two weeks is too short a time to say all that needs to be said, but I don’t believe Kim died with regret on her heart.

I wish I could explain why God chose to take Kim when she seemed so needed here on earth.

I wish I could explain why her family has to go through this pain

I wish I could explain why she will miss all those important milestones and special days with her children.

All I do know is that God is good. Even in death and grief and pain, He has a plan and a purpose. I know that while her body let her down on this earth, Kim is dancing in the presence of Jesus now – no pain, no worry, no sickness.

I know that Kim is finally healed and whole and without pain.

I’ll miss her, but I cling to the promise that one day I will see her in person – that we’ll finally meet in real life and it will be a much more joyful reunion than any here on earth.

Yes, Kim’s passing has left a gap in my life, but it has also taught me something too – living a full life isn’t dependent on the number of days here on earth but what you do with those days. Even if your days are short, you can still leave a legacy that will be remembered long after you are gone.

Godspeed, Kim.


Has Defeat Crept Into Your Life?

When a long-term subbing job came up, I was excited. I knew it would be a lot of work, with still doing two articles every week, but when I looked at the schedule, I knew I could do it. So, I let the school know that I could fill in for the six week maternity leave. I went through the interview and scheduled my days to shadow the teacher.

Then I went home and panicked.

All the possible ways that things could implode began to play over and over in my mind. What if I couldn’t get my interviews done? What if I was super tired and couldn’t cope? How would I get the dog walked, dinner on the table and attend all the baseball games (April is insane with baseball)? How would I get up at 6 a.m.?

Then I shadowed the teacher and realized that she was scheduled to do the devotionals the entire month of May, too.

That’s when I started to hyperventilate.

The mussel on the ocean beach

This morning I was having my quiet time and it hit me with the force of a brick to the head – God has NOT given us a spirit of fear. In Christ, we are NOT defeated. Yet, I had allowed fear to tangle in my heart and choke out my sense of hope and expectation.

What had started out as something good had become something that filled me with dread.

Instead of being excited about the possibilities, I was crippled by all the “what ifs.”

This morning, with tears running down my face, I asked God to forgive me for operating -not out of a place of faith- but a place of fear and defeat. That defeatist attitude prevented me from seeing all the cool things that were possible.

I hadn’t even realized the heavy load of defeat I had been dragging around with me the last week or so. I’m not sure when “I can’t,” had replaced my sense of hope and expectation. I just knew that I woke up every morning with a heaviness hijacking my soul.


The thing is, I’ve always loved teaching the Bible and sharing what God is showing me (which is why this blog even exists!), so doing the teacher devotionals shouldn’t be a burden – it’s an opportunity to encourage and build up fellow believers.

Every morning, I get to teach Bible to junior high kids. Imagine the possibilities.

I enjoy teaching, and I get to do it for six weeks.

Only satan takes what we love and twists it into something we dread, and fear is his favorite weapon.

In fact, if I feel pulled to do something and then get overwhelmed with a sense of fear or anxiety, I can almost guarantee that is from satan. It certainly is not from God because He promises us that a spirit of fear does not come from HIM!

This is not a new concept for me – but I hadn’t even realized how much fear and thus defeat had crept into my life on silent feet – one doubt, one anxiety at a time.

I’m so glad that God showed me that I was believing a lie rather than His promise. Now the choice is mine – am I going to believe God’s promises or Satan’s lies?

How about you – where are you feeling fearful or defeated lately?

Blessings, Rosanne

Why I Don’t Care if You See Noah or Not

If you are on social media at all, you know that this weekend the internet was blowing up about a movie called Noah. On my Facebook feed, probably 10 reviews were posted. This will not be one of them, in case you are wondering.

People argued both sides of the fence – pretty passionately. I even chimed in a few times over the absurdity of holding this film to a biblical standard even though it is a remake of Brian Godawa’s graphic novel Noah Primeval. I had a few people get rather cranky with me about it.

actions message

I actually don’t care if you go see Noah. I probably won’t see it at all, and if I do, it will be with a free redbox coupon. I’m not much for those movies where everything is in a sort of gritty realism that makes you feel like nobody has ever showered. I don’t really like watching things that are disturbing and the story of Noah, at it’s core IS disturbing because EVERYONE but Noah and his family dies. Every. Single. Person.

I can’t imagine how that would have felt to be sealed in the ark and hear the cries and pleas and screams of the people outside, knowing they were dying. It makes me shudder, and I know watching it on the big screen would probably give me nightmares. After all, I am the person who after seeing the Titanic, dreamed about it over and over until I had dreamed a happy ending. Yet, numerous people were surprised that the movie was disturbing.

There are arguments – from good people – on both side of the fence about why you should or shouldn’t see Noah. Since I assume most of you are adults and can think critically, I’ll leave it to you whether you choose to go or not.

What I am bothered by is WHY we feel the need to spend so much time and energy on Noah. It’s a movie. Entertainment. Yet, believers are spending time, energy and emotion on something that in a month or two won’t even matter.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I get why faith-based films are a great thing. I get that wonderful people work hard to bring them to the big screen so people can have quality entertainment, and I understand the importance of that because I am a big believer in the power of stories (even fictitious ones) to impact people.

But bringing faith-based films to the big screen really won’t do anything if our actions send a different message.

The fact is, the unbelieving world is watching us. They are watching us argue with each other and treat each other unkindly. They are watching us cut down and harshly criticize a director that at least is curious about Biblical narratives. They are watching us act hypocritically (after all, how many believers loved Evan Almighty or let their kids watch Veggie Tales – both of which were less than Biblically accurate)

They are watching us expend energy on something that, ultimately, does not matter, while ignoring things that desperately do. It makes believers appear small-minded, petty and in many cases, uninformed. A movie that is based on a book written by an atheist and directed by an atheist whose last film was The Black Swan, is not a faith-based film. It’s just a movie.

Each day we argue about Noah, thousands of people die and go to hell.

Each day we argue about Noah, thousands of children die of starvation.

Each day we argue about Noah. thousands of women and children are enslaved.

Each day we argue about Noah, thousands of hurting people despair of going on.

We have the answer. We have the Good News – and it’s not that Noah is or isn’t a good movie to see.

Maybe instead of spending all our time shouting to the world and at each other, what we don’t stand for and what we are against, we should spend more time sharing what we DO believe in and what we DO stand for.

Imagine what would happen if we expended as much energy sharing the Gospel as we have spent debating the merits of a movie.

Blessings, Rosanne

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