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Unburdened Shedding the Fear of Man and Walking Light as a Child of God. von Wachob, Colleen E. (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 15.07.2015
  • Verlag: BookBaby
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As followers of Christ, we all want to live out our faith in a way that is genuine, Christ-honoring, and gospel-centered. But, often, our faith journeys become encumbered by a fear of man. We want to be known, to be noticed, and to be thought well of. Our focuses turn inward, and we are crippled in our efforts to live God-glorifying lives. Colleen Wachob admits that she has trudged through life with a heavy backpack of man-fearing. It's a knapsack of hindrances she longs to drop along the trail, and she invites you to join her. In Unburdened, you will learn how to: - Biblically define and identify patterns of man-fearing - See and savor the majesty of your King - Embrace your identity as a redeemed child of God - Shed the weight of man-fearing and walk the unique path God has designed for your life Through personal stories and Biblical teaching, Colleen will journey with you to find new freedom and joy in your Christian walk.


    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: AdobeDRM
    Seitenzahl: 144
    Erscheinungsdatum: 15.07.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781682220139
    Verlag: BookBaby
    Größe: 524kBytes
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CHAPTER ONE: Who Do We Fear? The year is 1986. I sit at a short wooden desk, my skinny six-year-old legs crossed at the ankle as I bend studiously over the paper in front of me. I select a red crayon from the yellow box and begin to gently etch soft, neat lines. I am pleased with the way the colors look on the page and I smile as I draw the final curve of my rainbow. Setting the crayon in the groove of my desktop, I glance around at the other students. Curly red hair tumbles over the face of the girl next to me. She is chewing her lip as she draws, and when her right hand reaches up to push the wayward shock of hair out of her eyes, I see her picture. Her butterfly picture is nice, but it's not as good as mine, and that makes me happy. The two boys in front of me are just scribbling, doodling wavy lines that intersect without order. I scan the next row, and my eyes rest on the flowered dress and blunt pixie-cut of the new girl. Ana. She joined our class a week ago. On Monday, Mrs. McCann handed her a blue reader-the same color as mine-and sent her down the hall with me to read aloud with the second-graders. Yesterday, she bookmarked Ana's math text near the end, telling her to skip ahead to Lesson 124. The same lesson I am working on. As one of the older students in my kindergarten class, and an early, avid reader, I find school easy. And because school comes easily, I have earned the admiration of my pretty, brown-eyed teacher. She likes me. She thinks I am smart. At least I think she does. Something tightens in my chest as my gaze lingers on Ana's desk. Her picture is beautiful. The colors are bright, vivid. She has drawn a bird, a tropical bird, and somehow the dimensions are right and the wings seem ready to flap right off the white sketch paper. I tear my focus away for a moment, but my attention snaps back when I see Mrs. McCann approach Ana. "What a beautiful picture. You have so much talent, Ana, and I can tell you worked really hard on your bird. It's just lovely! Amazing, really." Ana beams. The bell trills. Recess. There is a shuffling of papers and stomping of feet as fifteen kindergartners shrug on coats to head outside to the playground. I dawdle, watching my classmates file happily out of the room. As I close my crayon box, I watch Mrs. McCann wave the teacher from next door into the classroom. "Come see this," she says, her voice filled with awe. The other teacher walks briskly to her side. I listen to the trip-trap of her heels and hope they don't notice I am still at my desk. "Our new girl, Ana, is a brilliant artist. See this? Look at the coIors." The other teacher murmurs her appreciation of Ana's masterpiece. "I had to move her up a level in reading and math, too. She is so far ahead of my other students. And such a sweet girl." The tightness in my chest swells. I can barely breathe. I want her to like me. I want her to think I am special! The approval of my teacher matters to me more than anything, and I am afraid I have lost it. I tried. But I am not good enough! Desperately I pull the crayons back out. I add bold strokes to my light lines, trying to make my colors match the vibrant hues of Ana's picture. Suddenly Mrs. McCann is at my side. "Honey, you've drawn a nice rainbow. Put it away for now and head out to recess with the others." I look up and nod my head. Stuffing the rainbow picture into the back of my desk cubby, I swallow tears. Six years later, my older sister and I sign up for a week of church camp that includes a two-day backpacking adventure. I know that at end of the week the counselors will give an award for th

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