Leaving My P#*% Stash In Michigan, Pt. 2

By Emily Bansuelo

 

The car was packed full and I was off to the biggest adventure of my life. I had been away from home before- mission’s trips, vacations, things like that- but nothing like this. As far as I knew, I was only going to be gone about 9 months. I had my big girl pants on, I took a deep breath, and away I drove. Like the Israelites leaving their slavery, I too was leaving my addictions in Michigan. So long slavery, I have decided to follow Jesus, NO TURNING BACK, remember? I was so sure of myself, and this exciting new adventure God was giving me. I was really sure of myself, except when I began realizing how uncomfortable I was getting. The further we drove, the more questions began rising up into my head. What if this isn’t for you? What if you fail? What happens when you have no friends, and you’re lonely? You know what happens when you feel alone. So many lies, so many questions, but I had to trust God and keep going.

 

When I arrived in the great state of California everything seemed to be going well. I was making friends, I was doing great in my classes. I was keeping up appearances and nobody had to know about my past dealing with that icky word, I still wasn’t hearing people talk about… *whispers* porn. But I didn’t need to worry about it, I was sure of it. But those questions kept creeping in. And they were getting louder. A year passed, and I was into my 2nd year of interning. And I had a stressful dark day. I was tired, alone, and feeling worthless. And the enemy swept in with a nasty, but cunning invitation back into my comfort zone. Slavery. Porn. If I chose yes, I would be picking up exactly what I had dropped in Michigan. And I picked it up. I snatched it. Just like that I was back in the vicious cycle I was in a year ago. What happened? What was going on? I was panicking like a lost little girl in a maze of mirrors with no way out.

 

But I had these friends, solid women of God. I reached out to them first. I was so tired, tired of silently suffering in my addiction to pornography. Tired of thinking I was alone in my struggle. I knew I had to tell my friends what was going on (read Romans 10:9). As difficult as it was, I could feel shame falling off. It’s been a really long road of finding and fighting for my freedom. So how does someone do it? How do we stay free in the midst of a world that is telling us our sin is better than our freedom? I compiled a list of practical tips that will keep us free; no matter the addiction, pain, or struggle you may be fighting against. We must fight for freedom harder.

1. Renew Your Mind. Romans 12:2

 

In order to keep our minds on things above and not on the distracting, lustful, and honestly disgusting things that can consume our thoughts at times (Colossians 3:2), we must renew our mind. And it has to happen DAILY. Get into the Bible, there are 31 chapters in Proverbs, and 31 days in a month. Voila! You have a chapter to read that is full of wisdom! Every single day. It will then be easier for us to do what Philippians 4:8 encourages. “…Whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely… think about such things.”

 

2. Make A Plan. 1 Corinthians 10:13

 

When you are in the heat of temptation it is so helpful to have a plan in place. I keep a pair of tennis shoes by the door. If I’m feeling tempted I grab my shoes and get out of the house. At night I don’t have my phone near me, I keep it charging in the other room. What is your plan? If I’m feeling lonely I turn on music and dance. Make a list of silly, or serious things to do when your temptation is in your face.

 

And the most important part of my plan is number three…

 

3. Get Accountable. James 5:16

 

Having women of God in your life who you can trust is so important. I am blessed to have multiple women I can call on in my time of need. Trusting people can be so hard, but it’s more important to have someone you can rely on than continuing to be alone. Isolation is where the enemy’s voice is the loudest, but in a community of strong godly women, there’s only room for love and encouragement. 

 

My journey in the world of being addicted to pornography has been long and tiring. I have shared my story because I believe that I have been set free to set others free. God gave me a dream one evening of a room, dark, damp and cold. As soon as light shed on the walls I realized it was filled with young women who were chained up and had no idea that there were other women right next to them. The enemy has convinced us to be silent, but I’m revoking that lie. I will cry out from the mountain tops because I followed Jesus, and the enemy may have thought that he had the final say, but I do. He couldn’t keep me down. He will not keep us silent. Fight for freedom, because Jesus has set us free. 

 

 

 

 

John 8:36

"So if the Son liberates you [makes you free men],

then you are really and unquestionably FREE."

I'm Going to Die

By Vanessa Shepherd

It's true, I’m going to die. 

 

Now before your mind jumps to the worst conclusion, before you believe that I have indeed seen a doctor and been given a death sentence, think of what I am saying. 

 

I am going to die. 

 

It doesn’t take a medical professional to tell me that one day I will cease living a life on this earth for me to believe it.  It is reality.  Fact.  Unchangeable.  Even if Jesus comes before then, my life will still be over here.  And nothing can make that. Not. Happen.

 

What would possess a person to write or even say that?  Why would I of all topics to pick choose this one?  If you have faced grief in any regards it almost borders on insensitive… but please, hear me out. 

 

A friend of mine was asking some advice on potty training (yes I just took that leap) hearing that I had just been through Hell Week myself with my albino terrorist.  When you are a parent you know that potty training is in fact one of the worst parts of having children but if you do not have kids of your own, just trust me on this for now. While I laughed a bit because there is not a “right” or “easy” way to teach a kid to pee and poop in the toilet… not their underwear… not their beds… not the floor… not anywhere that is not a toilet… but indeed that white chair that flushes their unmentionables away to the great unknown, there are some things that got me through without losing all of my sanity.

 

As I typed out my reply to her, I got to the end and without thinking put “and above all else, just expect accidents to happen.  Because when you expect it, when you know that you know that you know that it will eventually happen, you won’t lose your mind when it does”.

 

I am so smart.  I read over my reply and realized that it was in fact the key to not losing my mind the second time around getting a boy to use the porcelain throne properly.  Expectancy.

 

And then as I have counseled with many through losses of their own I have realized something… I realized that coping is the same way.  It is easier when we expect it.  When grandparents are older we reason that they have lived a full life so while it still hurts, they are allowed to go.  There is an age limit on living and after that it is acceptable for death.  But my friend, I hate with everything in me to say, that there is no age limit.  There are no acceptable terms of any kind.  It is never ok to lose someone.  It is never something we want or pray for (unless of course there is extreme pain in someone’s body and we have given up praying for a miracle).  Death SUCKS.  Death HURTS.  Death is UNFAIR.  But death is EXPECTED.  At least it should be. 

 

The real surprise is not that death happens, but how we have lived so long hoping it doesn’t.  Or that it doesn’t HAVE to happen.  But it does.  Oh how I hate that it does.

 

It is one of the worst pains I have ever known to have lost someone that I love despite praying so fervently for their healing, but it is inevitable.  Reality.  Fact.  Unchangeable.  Death is in fact expected.

 

And while this may bring you no comfort whatsoever, my friend, have faith in this- death makes living special.  Having a limited amount of time on this earth makes every moment so incredibly powerful.  Each day, no matter how monotonous or unsurprising, is a gift from our Creator.  A gift that we can choose to use to make the world a better place, or a gift that we can hide away and forget that there is meaning altogether. 

So cherish living but as much as you cherish it, do not fear death.  For, as Helen Keller put it, “death is no more than passing from one room to another.  But there’s a difference for me you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see”. Death is only final for us here on earth; in heaven it is merely our permission slip to enter.  That is why we as Christians should not fear the inevitable, death, for it shall be the greatest adventure we’ve ever known.  I pray this for us, that we embrace and grieve for what we have lost but not as one without hope.  We have hope.  We have Christ.  I am going to die… and it will only be the beginning of something new and wonderful… but until that day comes… I will live.

 
Philippians 1:21 
“To me, living means having Christ.
To die means that I would have more of Him.”
(New Life Version)
 

1 Corinthians 15:54-58
“…this has to happen: everything perishable taken off the shelves
and replaced by the imperishable, this mortal replaced by the immortal.
Then the saying will come true: Death swallowed by triumphant Life!
Who got the last word, oh, Death? Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now?
It was sin that made death so frightening and law-code guilt that gave
sin its leverage, its destructive power. But now in a single victorious
stroke of Life, all three—sin, guilt, death—are gone, the gift of our Master,
Jesus Christ. Thank God! 58 With all this going for us, my dear, dear friends,
stand your ground. And don’t hold back. Throw yourselves into the work
of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort.”
(Message)

Leaving My P#*% Stash In Michigan, Pt. 1

By Emily Bansuelo

Sing it with me, the old hymnal song some of you may be familiar with, “I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back, no turning back.” I hated that song, for a couple of reasons. One, it always seemed to put me to sleep, and two I was always really good at turning back. My entire life, I grew up hearing, singing, playing on the piano songs like these. I was the girl who was really good at playing a game many people consider themselves aficionados, “CHURCH”. It’s a really boring game, but for some reason, I felt obligated to play this game. Every once in a while I would have moments of losing this game and actually have a relationship with Jesus, but alas I would always turn back.

 

I would turn back to P#*%. The “P” word. The word that was only whispered from the pulpit. And if it was talked about it was only geared toward the guys in the room. Yes that word.  Porn.  Have you ever been swimming and had someone swim behind you -dunking your head under the water repeatedly? Or if you’ve been in the ocean and you get caught in a wave, you fight to swim to the shore but the wave keeps taking you under? That’s pretty much how I felt near the end of middle school and through the entirety of high school. A girl who was drowning, isolated, and feeling completely helpless. Better known as being in the DICH.  All because of that four letter word. 

 

At the ripe age of 18 I had graduated high school and was working full-time as a nanny, living in my DICH. That’s when I had, had enough. I was sitting at the kitchen table with my mom, and I knew at that moment I had to confess the sin I was living in. I didn’t want to keep turning back anymore. It was crazy because I couldn’t even speak it, I literally had to write on a piece of paper and slide it across the table. Oh the thoughts that were running through my mind, “Would she disown me? Would she storm out of the house? What if she can’t look at me? I’m so disgusting…” Then before I know it my mom looks at me, gets out of her chair, comes over to me and slaps me across the face! JUST KIDDING!!! She didn’t do that, I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Let’s pick that back up, she walks over to where I’m sitting, tears coming down my face, and she says, “Emily, I love you.”

 

That moment changed everything. I finally gave a voice to my greatest fear and instead of killing me, it set me free.  Not too long after, Jesus called me to Sacramento, CA. This was it, like the Israelites, he was calling me out of slavery (Exodus 3:7-8). Like his disciples, he was calling me away from my mundane jobs and even my family (Matthew 4:18-22). Like Paul, he was calling me out of the game called, “Church”, and into a reality of Jesus’ love and freedom (Acts 9). This was it, THIS WAS IT!!! My car was packed, and I was leaving my P#*% stash in Michigan. I could finally sing with such excitement, “I HAVE DECIDED TO FOLLOW JESUS, NO TURNING BACK, NO TURNING BACK.”

James 5:16

 ^“Confess to one another therefore your faults (your slips, your false steps, your offenses, your sins) and pray [also] for one another, that you may be healed and restored [to a spiritual tone of mind and heart].”

 

 

Life isn't always easy

By Mikayla Moore

I was eleven years old in fifth grade. At that age my life wasn't really that complicated; it consisted of just two things, school and church. I lived in Tulsa Oklahoma and attended a school called Lincoln Christian School. The church and school were connected and my dad was a pastor there. Everyone knew who I was, I was so popular and was friends with everyone. Everything was perfect. I had two girls that I had gotten to know extremely well, they were like my sisters, or like we called it "BFFL". I didn't know that my life was about to flip.

I had gotten home from school one day to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch, they asked me to sit with them and I knew something was up. It was then that they told me two words that I never in a million years would have expected to hear, "we're moving." Of course there was more to it than that but that was all I heard. When I heard those two dreaded words my eyes welled up with tears, I turned to my mom and just sobbed in her lap.  Soon my sadness turned to anger and I got up to run upstairs to my room. When I got there I fell onto my bed and I couldn't do anything but cry, so that's what I did I  cried... and cried... and cried. I wasn't allowed to tell any of my friends so for a whole school year I had to keep it a secret. I know that it seems like at eleven years old it couldn't have been that big of a deal, but it was. When we moved that summer something inside of me twisted, and I began to feel myself slip into a deep depression.

You may think I was just being a baby but I had already moved once from Indiana, so when we moved to Oklahoma I made it my home. I planted my roots there, and moving to Visalia in California, a town where I knew no one, and I had never even heard of, it completely uprooted me. I didn't want to be involved in school, or church, and I began to get bitter and angry with my parents and my family. My brothers automatically fit in and found friends. I was just there. I was tired of my parents telling me that I had one foot here and one in Oklahoma, they told me to be "all in" here. I didn't want to be here, I wanted to go back home to Oklahoma. I convinced myself that I didn't belong here, that I was simply dragged along by my family. All I would do was lock myself in my room and cry most of the time.
    

Finally I came through, I began to make my way through the fog. And I'm so glad I did. Of course there was a ton of steps between this but now my family has started a church and I know I have a calling for kids church, at least for now. I realize now that if I hadn't moved, I wouldn't have been able to make an impact on the kids I see every Sunday. I love those kids. I still think about what it would be like sometimes if I had stayed in Tulsa. But any time I feel like I wish I was still there, I think about all the little faces I see in kids church. And I know I'm supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be here for all of them. And I know He has even bigger plans in store for me in the future. In three years of living here, I'm just now figuring out why God put me here. Me, Mikayla Moore, not the pastors kid, or the new girl. But me. And I wouldn't trade any of that time for anything, it was all worth it.
    

I may have not known it then, but there was not one second during those three years that God left me. When I was angry with Him, He was sitting right there by me. When I cried, His heart was breaking for me. When I questioned Him, He was chasing my heart. He was walking with me every step of the way. And He still is.

 

Life isn't always easy... but God is always good.

 

 

 

Psalm 27:13

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed

that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living."

What Now?

I’m not sure if there are enough adjectives in the English dictionary to describe our annual girl’s conference, this year’s theme of course being “Keepin’ It Classy”. So much freedom took place in the lives of so many. We heard powerful testimonies of lives redeemed by Jesus and received tools to walking out the life God created us for in our breakout sessions. We learned from Caitlin the power of compromise, but the greater power of allowing God’s best for our life. Meagan challenged us to make Jesus our #MCM by ‘making time’, having ‘constant communication’ and ‘mastering our purpose’ with Him.  Then Vanessa gave us the encouragement of a big sister telling us what to do when we have made a mistake or find ourselves in the middle of a trial, telling us to “Press on sweet girl, press on. You’re still called.”

We laughed to the hilarious Kara, whose impressions of celebrities are unmatched. I don’t know if we can ever forget her dancing abilities as she honed the skills of Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber and my personal favorite Nicki Minaj. Wow, just wow. Many of you participated in our Variety Show and gave us a glimpse of your flexibility, talent, bravery and humor.  Do you remember those Christian pick-up lines? “Are you looking for a knight in shining armor? Because I’ve got the full armor of God on right now.” Or, “So last night I was reading in the book of Numbers, and I realized, I don’t have yours.”

I can’t help, but wish I was back in that room laughing, crying and welcoming the presence of God in with you dear sisters, because it’s true, everything changes when He walks into the room.  It’s almost this homesick feeling in my heart, to be with you all again. It was such a safe and beautiful place.  Many of you found freedom there. For some of you it’s the place where it all began. I remember going away from conferences in the past and having this worry of falling right back into my old self that I desperately surrendered to Jesus.  Picking back up the things I had surrendered on those boxes. If you’re feeling that worry, hear this encouragement; God reminded me of this scripture that changed everything for me…

           

2 Corinthians 3:17- “…Where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

Yes, the spirit of the Lord was in that room at Keepin’ It Classy, but even more so, the spirit of the Lord is dwelling in you, right now! (1 Cor. 6:19) You received freedom last weekend. So walk in it, because the spirit of the living God is in you and with you ALWAYS.  And if you fall, get back up. Brush off the dust, turn toward Jesus, and keep walking.  He’s waiting for you with open arms.

Distance Disorder

It used to be that you could hear something in passing or in deliberate conversation and be able to label such things as gossip.  You knew in your gut that the person sharing stories of jealousy, offense, or humiliation would never dare to do so in front of the one they were speaking about.  You knew in your heart that how it was being shared wasn’t an exact depiction of the real story… just their version.  You knew they were exaggerating to fit their angle, to make themselves look better.  You knew it was wrong. 

 

Then as time has crept on suddenly there were more voices with more stories to share.  The topics of conversation have elevated from playground rumors to something that happened somewhere in the world to someone we don’t even know. “News” reports, talk shows, magazine articles, internet sites, bloggers, and social media have all taken their opportunity in throwing their hats in the ring for your attention.  Throwing anyone they can under the bus of public opinion and suddenly it is ok to do so.  Suddenly we have a right to talk about it, to have an opinion, to be jealous, to be rude, to be unforgiving, to be unloving, and even to be judge and jury.  Suddenly it isn’t wrong anymore. It isn’t gossip, it is news.

 

We tend to jump on band wagons of opinions and assumptions and end up taking on feelings that were never ours to begin with.  We see a picture of a “friend” whose parents have bought her a car and we assume she is spoiled or being showy about it and suddenly we are jealous. (I use quotations because there is no real way to keep a friendship with over 1,000 people at a time… sorry social media… ain’t nobody got time for that!) Now if it were my best friend and I would know just how hard she tried to get good grades to earn that car and I would be happy for her.  But we’re not BFFs… I just follow her on Instagram and have never really had a conversation face to face.  So I am jealous.  Because I am allowed to be.

 

Or we see that one girl who has changed her relationship status a thousand times… last month… and we laugh at her.  Make jokes about how desperate she is and how she can never be alone.  She is crazy, we say.  But I could guarantee if you were to sit down with her one on one you would find a lonely, sad girl who just wants to know what it feels like to be loved.  Someone who has had her heart broken time and time again and now the shell of a girl that remains is barely strong enough to face another day, especially not one alone.  But we don’t sit down with her.  We are only Facebook friends after all.  So we laugh.  Because we are allowed to.

 

Or we read about another politician, actor or actress, singer, musician, public servant, pastor, random man or woman, who has done something terrible and we decide they are a terrible person.  How dare they make a mistake, do something wrong, or have the wrong view on something because we surely never do.  They are truly terrible.  Truly.  And I can make such a judgement because they are famous and have put themselves in that spotlight.  I can’t stand them.  Because I am allowed to.

 

Girls, can I ask you something?  Who says you are allowed to?  Who says it is right?  I was once told that I had my own “haters club”.  That girls would literally sit and talk about how much they hated my husband and I.  And they felt they were righteous in doing so because they were justified… because we deserved it.  My heart sank to my stomach when I heard about such a thing.  Not because they didn’t have reason for ill-feelings, I am fallible after all.  No, it hurt because they thought they were right in harboring such hate in their hearts.  And not only in harboring it but spreading it amongst others who didn’t even know us.  So not only are we hated by some who have never accepted our sincere apologies, but we are also hated by those who are hearing about things we have “done” years and years ago.

 

I am sure reading this you are thinking how ridiculous it would be to take part in such a club but we unknowingly do it all the time.  We talk about a singer's recent distasteful performance, the police shooting in Ferguson, or another actor in rehab as if we were allowed to have an opinion.  I am not saying we need to stick our heads in the sand and ignore what is going on in the world around us.  But I am saying we need to be better at guarding our hearts from things so far in the distance that we have no business being a part of them in the first place.  Our society is suffering from a Distance Disorder that makes it seem acceptable to form opinions of others, most of which we don’t even know.  Because they will never know.  We hide behind our phones and our computer screens, typing hateful speech that doesn’t glorify God and with that same keyboard type scriptures for our status updates.  That isn’t love my friends.  That isn’t believing the best in others.  And that isn’t what Jesus would do, because He didn’t. 

 
These stories are being told for a reason, they are someone's reality.  They are someone's struggles, someone's mistakes.  How hurtful to be talking so flippantly about the worst day of someone's life as if it were a conversation filler.  I do not think we would be so casual in our conversation if they were standing in front of us.  If they were our friend.  If we were trying to persuade them of Christ's love for them.  We all know that tomorrow will bring another victim to talk about, another person to de-humanize, another story to keep the disorder running full cycle.  But enough is enough. 
 

Can we stop attacking people, using their names as if they symbolized their sins, and start praying for them instead?  Can we learn to guard our hearts against assumptions and personal opinion?  Can we learn to view others through the eyes of God and see a soul under all that flesh?  Can we truly love our neighbor… and our enemy… like Jesus commanded us to?  Even if we don’t know them, or should I say especially if we don’t know them?  Because if Christ loved us at our darkest (Romans 5:8), shouldn’t we love others also at theirs?  I think we have suffered from this disorder for too long and it is time to take the blinders off.  Because it is not ok.  And it shouldn’t be allowed.

 

 

 

 

Luke 6:35-37

But love your enemies and be kind and do good [doing favors so that someone derives benefit from them] and lend, expecting and hoping for nothing in return but considering nothing as lost and despairing of no one; and then your recompense (your reward) will be great (rich, strong, intense, and abundant), and you will be sons of the Most High, for He is kind and charitable and good to the ungrateful and the selfish and wicked.  So be merciful (sympathetic, tender, responsive, and compassionate) even as your Father is [all these]. Judge not [neither pronouncing judgment nor subjecting to censure], and you will not be judged; do not condemn and pronounce guilty, and you will not be condemned and pronounced guilty; acquit and forgive and release (give up resentment, let it drop), and you will be acquitted and forgiven and released.

 

Proverbs 4:23

Keep and guard your heart with all vigilance and above all that you guard,

for out of it flow the springs of life.

 

 

He knows my Name

A terrible tragedy happened just down the street from where my husband and I used to live in Stockton, CA.  A bank robbery and a high speed chase that ended in three people losing their lives.  My newsfeed blew up yesterday with friends who had taken video of what was happening, posted updates on locations to stay away from, and shared news reports to give the latest details on who was involved.  I read through them all.  Searching… praying… praying that I didn’t recognize any of the names. 

 

This was my city, my community, my neighborhood.  My heart hurt for the families who had to be notified of a loved one’s death and when it was all over I was relieved.  Relieved.  Somewhere in that city there was a husband, son, family grieving because that Wednesday had easily become the worst day of their lives and I… was relieved.

 

I was notified last night by a friend in youth ministry that one of their students was the son of the hostage who had lost her life.  Immediately I began to pray for this boy who would never again get to share a hug with his mother, never get to tell her he loved her face to face, never get to fight with her over curfew, and never get to see her face as he said “I do”.  I prayed and thought about it a lot last night.  It kept me up too late and as I drug myself out of bed this morning it was the first thing on my mind.  Yesterday it was just a story that I was reading but last night it was a face, a name, a voice of someone who was living out that nightmare.  The feeling of relief had left me and was replaced by a deep sadness as I looked at my own boys and hugged them a little tighter.

 

I started my day not knowing any of the names on that report; I started that day hearing about a story.  But then God reminded me of something- that story was someone’s reality and while I don’t know their names- He does.  He knows every one of them.  He knows the very details of their lives.  He has thought of them more times than there are very pieces of sand on the shore.  They were His creation.  HE knew their names.

 

Now I am not saying that I should be guilty for my initial feeling of relief but I was made quite aware in that moment of how different “stories” and “realities” are.  Stories are distant; realities are ever present.  Stories are impersonal; realities are so painfully personally. Stories impact us for a moment; realities impact us for the rest of our lives.  We read stories, but we live realities. 

 

We read stories, but we live realities.

 

May we never forget that God is not a story, He is a reality, and He knows our names.

 

In the midst of our struggles, in the midst of our pains, He calls us by name.  He loves us.  He is for us and not against us.  He fights on our behalf.  He strengthens our weakened bodies with His power.  And He carries us through the seemingly never ending days.  

 

God is our reality, and we are His.

 

 

 

 

Psalm 139:1-18
 O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.  You know when I sit down or stand up.  You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.   You see me when I travel and when I rest at home. You know everything I do.  You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord.  You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!  I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.  If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me.  I could ask the darkness to hide me and the light around me to become night— but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.  To you the night shines as bright as day. Darkness and light are the same to you.   You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.  Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.  You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.  You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book.  Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!