Watch Joshua perform his first big solo at his school concert...with a few hiccups. His solo starts around the 2:30 mark. Click on the link below to go the youtube page, or watch below.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
2013 Christmas Newsletter
Merry Christmas everyone! Please click on the image or link below to read my Christmas Newsletter. God Bless!
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
November Newsletter
Christ Received
“But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”-John 1:12
“This verse is incredible. It is incomprehensible that God, the Creator of all things, the One who upholds all things by the word of his power, would enable me, one who has rejected him, to become his child. We need to hold this New Testament teaching close to our hearts at all costs. We need to marvel not only at the greatness of Christ but the absurdity of his love to us.
Being God’s ‘children’ means we can call God Father. More specifically, we can address him as ‘Abba, Father’ or ‘dearest Father.’ We can call God, if we do not say it flippantly, Daddy. That is what my children called me long ago when they toddled to the front door and I took them in my arms. It is what they call me when they are hurting. It is the word my girls used when they wanted something from me. Calling God Daddy is a precious privilege. And before Jesus came, it just was not possible.
In the Old Testament God is called Father, in reference to Israel fourteen times. Only one or two of those refer to intimacy. However, Paul, in Galatians 4:6, says: ‘And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!”’ That cry is implanted in our hearts. When things are not quite right and I cannot sleep, I find myself repeating this great truth over and over and over again and finding comfort in it. We need to avail ourselves of the precious, blessed fact that God is our Father.
Jesus’ ‘name’ stands for all that he is. He is the eternal Christ who became the incarnate flesh and so displayed God. He is the One in whom we must believe in order to receive him. Once we ask Christ into our life, we can cry in our heart, ‘Abba, Father, I have come home.’”
-R. Kent Hughes from John: That You May Believe
Cornerstone and Bellefield Update
Cornerstone has been fairly productive this year. We are becoming more and more of a presence on Pitt’s campus, reaching out by both evangelism and service. Our numbers have increased because of this. We have a solid group of students who are eager to step up, and eager to talk to those they don’t know. This has been something that we’ve been working on with our students over a long period of time, and it seems that they are finally getting a vision of spreading Christ’s kingdom. It has been a true blessing. Like my students, I have become comfortable, but always trying to find new ways of challenging myself, my students, and the ministry.
In other news, I’m very glad to announce that after two and a half years of not having a pastor, Bellefield finally has one. His name is Josh Brown (funny since our last pastor was also Pastor Brown). He says that his greatest desire in ministry is to proclaim Jesus Christ as crucified and raised again, to see Him exalted in and through the lives of His people to the glory of God the Father, and to herald the Spirit-inspired Word through preaching and teaching. He enjoys investing in others, partnering with them in the ministry of the gospel, and encouraging them to live lives of faithful discipleship that hold forth the good news of Christ’s reconciling work to a fallen world.
It has been a long process in finding Pastor Josh, but a blessing to hear him speak, see his humility, and watch him interact with others. Please be in prayer for the Cornerstone Ministry and Bellefield.
Meet the Students
Meet Jeff Schallick, a Sophomore Chemical Engineering major at Pitt. Jeff, originally from Ohio, has been involved since his first weeks at Pitt (I still remember him doing his Stich impression from Lilo & Stitch) and is known for his kind personality and weird sense of humor. Read more about him…
1. What is your favorite movie, book, and band/music? My favorite movie is Lilo and Stitch because it was such a classic growing up between me and my cousin. We might both have stuffed Stitches, no shame. Favorite book is The Hobbit since it's all the greatness of Tolkien wrapped up in a small, manageable book as compared to LOTR. Favorite music is basically anything that doesn't sound bad, such as (most) rap or country.
2. What has been your involvement in Cornerstone? This year I'm part of Cornerstone Leadership by being on the Freshman Ministry Team, which meant a lot of Orientation week events to welcome the freshmen. I go to a variety of Cornerstone events whenever I can, such as our Hot Dog giveaways. I also had pretty good attendance to Cornerstone as a freshman.
3. How has Cornerstone helped you during your years at Pitt? Cornerstone has been such an important part of my life while at Pitt, from challenging and growing my faith to blessing me with a loving community in Christ. The way it has had the biggest impact on my life was during the spring break mission trip to the Dominican Republic. I've always treasured God's joy in my relationship with Him, but I never saw its power until I saw it in the Dominican children who had almost nothing. From that day I learned firsthand how God's joy is so above our circumstances, and the joy I saw in those kids is the joy I aspire to share with everyone I meet.
Financial Update
This past month was quite a low month for us, but we stand on the promise that God provides: He always has and always will, and has taught us that many times over. We are very thankful for the support given to us as well as our wonderful supporters! If you are interested in supporting this ministry, I would love to meet with you. Please contact me using the information on the navigation bar.
Moore News
Our lives lately are revolving much around school. Benjamin and Joshua are both of age (Ben in first grade and Josh in Kindergarten), and are doing really well. Josh can be a bit of a talker once he warms up to you, so we weren’t really sure how he was going to handle having to sit quietly most of the day. It turns out that talking was not the main thing we should have been concerned with, but homesickness. About three weeks into school, Josh realized that school is a permanent thing and had a rough time adjusting to that truth. We have found ways for him not to get so teary-eyed (which is an absolute heart breaker for a parent) and start school with a smile on his face. He is gaining confidence in his ability to learn, and is doing really well. It also helps that his big brother is just a few doors down.
Asher seems to be adjusting to life without two brothers through the day. In fact, he loves having mommy (and occasionally daddy) all to himself throughout the day. Unlike the other two (especially Joshua), he enjoys alone-time and playing by himself. And he loves the extra attention.
Emily also has learned to live at home throughout the day with just one child again, and (hopefully) has gotten some much needed rest because of it. But it’s always a welcome sight to see two energetic boys coming home after a full day of school.
We pray that all is well with you, and we thank you for your love and support! God Bless!
In Christ,
-Andy Moore
“But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”-John 1:12
“This verse is incredible. It is incomprehensible that God, the Creator of all things, the One who upholds all things by the word of his power, would enable me, one who has rejected him, to become his child. We need to hold this New Testament teaching close to our hearts at all costs. We need to marvel not only at the greatness of Christ but the absurdity of his love to us.
Being God’s ‘children’ means we can call God Father. More specifically, we can address him as ‘Abba, Father’ or ‘dearest Father.’ We can call God, if we do not say it flippantly, Daddy. That is what my children called me long ago when they toddled to the front door and I took them in my arms. It is what they call me when they are hurting. It is the word my girls used when they wanted something from me. Calling God Daddy is a precious privilege. And before Jesus came, it just was not possible.
In the Old Testament God is called Father, in reference to Israel fourteen times. Only one or two of those refer to intimacy. However, Paul, in Galatians 4:6, says: ‘And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!”’ That cry is implanted in our hearts. When things are not quite right and I cannot sleep, I find myself repeating this great truth over and over and over again and finding comfort in it. We need to avail ourselves of the precious, blessed fact that God is our Father.
Jesus’ ‘name’ stands for all that he is. He is the eternal Christ who became the incarnate flesh and so displayed God. He is the One in whom we must believe in order to receive him. Once we ask Christ into our life, we can cry in our heart, ‘Abba, Father, I have come home.’”
-R. Kent Hughes from John: That You May Believe
Cornerstone and Bellefield Update
Cornerstone has been fairly productive this year. We are becoming more and more of a presence on Pitt’s campus, reaching out by both evangelism and service. Our numbers have increased because of this. We have a solid group of students who are eager to step up, and eager to talk to those they don’t know. This has been something that we’ve been working on with our students over a long period of time, and it seems that they are finally getting a vision of spreading Christ’s kingdom. It has been a true blessing. Like my students, I have become comfortable, but always trying to find new ways of challenging myself, my students, and the ministry.
In other news, I’m very glad to announce that after two and a half years of not having a pastor, Bellefield finally has one. His name is Josh Brown (funny since our last pastor was also Pastor Brown). He says that his greatest desire in ministry is to proclaim Jesus Christ as crucified and raised again, to see Him exalted in and through the lives of His people to the glory of God the Father, and to herald the Spirit-inspired Word through preaching and teaching. He enjoys investing in others, partnering with them in the ministry of the gospel, and encouraging them to live lives of faithful discipleship that hold forth the good news of Christ’s reconciling work to a fallen world.
It has been a long process in finding Pastor Josh, but a blessing to hear him speak, see his humility, and watch him interact with others. Please be in prayer for the Cornerstone Ministry and Bellefield.
Meet the Students
1. What is your favorite movie, book, and band/music? My favorite movie is Lilo and Stitch because it was such a classic growing up between me and my cousin. We might both have stuffed Stitches, no shame. Favorite book is The Hobbit since it's all the greatness of Tolkien wrapped up in a small, manageable book as compared to LOTR. Favorite music is basically anything that doesn't sound bad, such as (most) rap or country.
2. What has been your involvement in Cornerstone? This year I'm part of Cornerstone Leadership by being on the Freshman Ministry Team, which meant a lot of Orientation week events to welcome the freshmen. I go to a variety of Cornerstone events whenever I can, such as our Hot Dog giveaways. I also had pretty good attendance to Cornerstone as a freshman.
3. How has Cornerstone helped you during your years at Pitt? Cornerstone has been such an important part of my life while at Pitt, from challenging and growing my faith to blessing me with a loving community in Christ. The way it has had the biggest impact on my life was during the spring break mission trip to the Dominican Republic. I've always treasured God's joy in my relationship with Him, but I never saw its power until I saw it in the Dominican children who had almost nothing. From that day I learned firsthand how God's joy is so above our circumstances, and the joy I saw in those kids is the joy I aspire to share with everyone I meet.
Financial Update
Moore News
Asher seems to be adjusting to life without two brothers through the day. In fact, he loves having mommy (and occasionally daddy) all to himself throughout the day. Unlike the other two (especially Joshua), he enjoys alone-time and playing by himself. And he loves the extra attention.
Emily also has learned to live at home throughout the day with just one child again, and (hopefully) has gotten some much needed rest because of it. But it’s always a welcome sight to see two energetic boys coming home after a full day of school.
We pray that all is well with you, and we thank you for your love and support! God Bless!
In Christ,
-Andy Moore
Monday, August 12, 2013
August Newsletter: Support Raising Edition
Jesus The Support Raiser
“Soon afterward he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with him, and also some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's household manager, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their means.” –Luke 8:1-3
One of the things that delayed my entrance into ministry was support raising. It seemed like a difficult and tedious thing to do. I was afraid I would be looked on as a beggar, or as someone who doesn’t have a real job. Honestly, sometimes I still feel that way. Support raising can be difficult and tedious. And as far as the beggar thing…well, I don’t think that God has ever wanted me to live an extravagant lifestyle. Nor do I think that he has called me into one of poverty (though sometimes, again, I feel that way). He has, however, called me to be faithful to my vocation. Part of this vocation is support raising.
A ministry costs money. This simple truth is so obvious that it seems ridiculous to state, but I think this is often overlooked. Even Jesus’s ministry required money. He and His followers had physical needs which people met, and those supporters were (I’m sure) more than willing to do so. Those who support the costs of a ministry, participate as partners in that ministry. I believe that Luke is telling us that these women who walked with Jesus and who helped to finance his ministry were a vital part of his mission in which he proclaimed the good news of God’s kingdom. Jesus also put it this way:
“Anyone who received a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and anyone who receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward. And if anyone gives a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward” -Matthew 10:41-42.
To support someone in their ministry is to share in the work and reward of their ministry. Supporting someone in their ministry does involve the mundane, however. I am sure that there was nothing very exciting or romantic about going to the market place and about buying food for Jesus and his disciples. Today, Christians are not eager to pay for rent, for the utility bills, or for stamps. All of these mundane matters are necessary. Buying them is supporting the ministry, no matter how mundane that may seem. One who is faithful in the little, or what seems mundane, will be faithful in much. Jesus’ words refer to ministry with money, and then ministry in other ways:
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much” -Luke 16:10.
In the context of this passage it is clear that money is the “little thing” while other matters are the greater things. These women, who were faithful to follow Christ, and to meet the needs of the group, were faithful also at the foot of the cross and at the tomb of our Lord. Their faithfulness in money assured them of faithfulness in the greatest things that Christ accomplished. Faithfulness in the matter of money is critical, for it leads to faithfulness in greater things as well. Investing in the gospel ministry determined where the hearts of these women were, summed up in the verse “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” -Matthew 6:2.
Every time I read the passage of Luke 8:1-3, it humbles me. There were times were Jesus, like myself, had to rely on the charity of others. Every day I thank the Lord for what he has done in my life, where he has placed me, and who he has put in my path. I thank you all for letting me do what I do through your tithes, offerings, and goodwill. You are truly a blessing.
Why We Do What We Do
This segment of my Newsletter has usually been dedicated to a student’s testimony in which they talk about how God has used Cornerstone
to change them. This time, I am doing something a bit different: I am going to talk about how God has used Cornerstone to change me.
Believe it or not, I have been at this job for six years. A lot has happened during those six years, both good and bad. The job ebbs and flows
as students come and go. Nothing has been constant…except God. During those hard times, the times of struggle, doubt, stress, financial
struggle, and tension, God has remained. He is unwavering and faithful, even when I am not. These years have been one of growth for me,
in more ways than I could have ever imagined. I thought that I would be doing the ministering, and all this time I have been ministered to.
When I am in trouble, God is there and listens. When I doubt, God is there and listens. When I am having trouble with a student, God is
there and listens. God is what keeps me going and is the one who helps me minister to college students. This is why I do what I do.
Through the past couple of months, Emily and I have gone through some financial struggles. We have lost some support, and our funds have decreased. We are very thankful for the support given to us, and ask for your help in this time. If God leads you to do so, we would love for you to join our ministry with financial support. We are always looking for new supporters. We could truly use your help. If you already support me, I am asking that you consider giving an extra 10% on top of your usual giving. With this money we can be at full monthly support again. Please pray diligently on this subject matter. God will provide, for he is there and listens. We thank you, and may God bless you richly because you have given to advance His kingdom! Please be in prayer that God will continue to build our support team and that we would be faithful in doing our part.
Moore News
If there were one word to summarize this summer with my family, it would be the word, “baseball.” Honestly, my kids have been baseball
crazy. It has come to the point that when they are not playing a pickup game with the neighbors (in which they proceed to give me a
“box score” after every game they play) or watching Pirate’s games, they are practicing their swing with anything they can get a hold of or
practicing diving catches…usually in the house, which they get in trouble for. Joshua even tries to wear a different baseball jersey every
day. Though slightly obsessed, both Ben and Josh have become pretty good ball players at such a young age and have a weird wealth of
knowledge about the game (some of which I have imparted on them). Admittedly, some of their obsession was from my influence. It’s nice
to have a common interest in my favorite sport and something that I was as passionate about as a kid. We’ll see what happens next year
when we enroll them in Little League.
Emily, I am afraid, is severely outnumbered at times, but she has been a good sport about it. She lovingly listens to our baseball talk even when (I am sure) she doesn’t want to. She has been doing well lately after a really tough year, with the passing of her mother. Christ continues to work through her and in her even in the midst of tragedy. The grieving process can be slow, but also can strengthen one more than they could possibly know. I have seen this in Em. She continues to grow as a woman of God, and never ceases to amaze me.
Please be in prayer for our family, during the upcoming school year. God Bless!
In Christ
-Andy Moore
“Soon afterward he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. And the twelve were with him, and also some women who had been healed of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's household manager, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their means.” –Luke 8:1-3
One of the things that delayed my entrance into ministry was support raising. It seemed like a difficult and tedious thing to do. I was afraid I would be looked on as a beggar, or as someone who doesn’t have a real job. Honestly, sometimes I still feel that way. Support raising can be difficult and tedious. And as far as the beggar thing…well, I don’t think that God has ever wanted me to live an extravagant lifestyle. Nor do I think that he has called me into one of poverty (though sometimes, again, I feel that way). He has, however, called me to be faithful to my vocation. Part of this vocation is support raising.
A ministry costs money. This simple truth is so obvious that it seems ridiculous to state, but I think this is often overlooked. Even Jesus’s ministry required money. He and His followers had physical needs which people met, and those supporters were (I’m sure) more than willing to do so. Those who support the costs of a ministry, participate as partners in that ministry. I believe that Luke is telling us that these women who walked with Jesus and who helped to finance his ministry were a vital part of his mission in which he proclaimed the good news of God’s kingdom. Jesus also put it this way:
“Anyone who received a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and anyone who receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward. And if anyone gives a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward” -Matthew 10:41-42.
To support someone in their ministry is to share in the work and reward of their ministry. Supporting someone in their ministry does involve the mundane, however. I am sure that there was nothing very exciting or romantic about going to the market place and about buying food for Jesus and his disciples. Today, Christians are not eager to pay for rent, for the utility bills, or for stamps. All of these mundane matters are necessary. Buying them is supporting the ministry, no matter how mundane that may seem. One who is faithful in the little, or what seems mundane, will be faithful in much. Jesus’ words refer to ministry with money, and then ministry in other ways:
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much” -Luke 16:10.
In the context of this passage it is clear that money is the “little thing” while other matters are the greater things. These women, who were faithful to follow Christ, and to meet the needs of the group, were faithful also at the foot of the cross and at the tomb of our Lord. Their faithfulness in money assured them of faithfulness in the greatest things that Christ accomplished. Faithfulness in the matter of money is critical, for it leads to faithfulness in greater things as well. Investing in the gospel ministry determined where the hearts of these women were, summed up in the verse “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” -Matthew 6:2.
Every time I read the passage of Luke 8:1-3, it humbles me. There were times were Jesus, like myself, had to rely on the charity of others. Every day I thank the Lord for what he has done in my life, where he has placed me, and who he has put in my path. I thank you all for letting me do what I do through your tithes, offerings, and goodwill. You are truly a blessing.
Why We Do What We Do
Through the past couple of months, Emily and I have gone through some financial struggles. We have lost some support, and our funds have decreased. We are very thankful for the support given to us, and ask for your help in this time. If God leads you to do so, we would love for you to join our ministry with financial support. We are always looking for new supporters. We could truly use your help. If you already support me, I am asking that you consider giving an extra 10% on top of your usual giving. With this money we can be at full monthly support again. Please pray diligently on this subject matter. God will provide, for he is there and listens. We thank you, and may God bless you richly because you have given to advance His kingdom! Please be in prayer that God will continue to build our support team and that we would be faithful in doing our part.
Moore News
Emily, I am afraid, is severely outnumbered at times, but she has been a good sport about it. She lovingly listens to our baseball talk even when (I am sure) she doesn’t want to. She has been doing well lately after a really tough year, with the passing of her mother. Christ continues to work through her and in her even in the midst of tragedy. The grieving process can be slow, but also can strengthen one more than they could possibly know. I have seen this in Em. She continues to grow as a woman of God, and never ceases to amaze me.
Please be in prayer for our family, during the upcoming school year. God Bless!
In Christ
-Andy Moore
Monday, May 20, 2013
2013 May Newsletter
Experiencing the Unnatural
“Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it.”-John 11:32-38
Have you ever wondered why we cry when someone dies? From the time we are in elementary school, we learn that death is a natural part of life; you are born, you live, and you die. It is the life cycle and it is natural. So if it is natural, why do we cry?
I believe that we cry at funerals because we realize that death is not natural. We realize that there was something that was originally created as good, and that it is good no longer. Consciously or subconsciously we realize that death was never part of the original creation, it was never part of God’s original plan, and that is why we feel so uncomfortable. No matter who you are, or what you believe (atheist, agnostics, Islam, or any other religion), you are grieved by death. Death is unnatural.
I believe that God realizes this as well, that death is not natural. Jesus, who we believe is God incarnate, that is, God in the form of man, experienced this in the above passage. If we take a look at the above passage in its original Greek, the meaning of the words “deeply moved” (found twice) literally means to snort with anger. The question herein lies: Who was Jesus angry at? Was it Mary? Was it the crowd? No, I believe that Jesus was angry at death.
Jesus understood that this was not what the world was supposed to be like and he, being God, realized to the fullest that death was unnatural. Shortly after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (found later in John 11), Jesus sacrificed himself on the cross to restore what was broken, and start to restore this world and our relationship with him back to its original state. He died to bridge the gap that was broken between God and man and three days later rose again showing that the unnatural death did not have power over a supernatural God. In other words, Jesus did the unnatural: he died. And by doing so we might live.
God is a restorer. It is in his very nature to do so. So if you are grieving, if you feel lost, just remember that Jesus will take what is unnatural and make it natural again.
Why We Do What We Do
I had the privilege to lead my fourth missions/service trip with nineteen students to the Dominican Republic. Honestly, it was my best trip thus far. If you have read any of my newsletters in the past four years, you would realize how impactful the trip has been to me. Usually, instead of me rambling on about how great the trip is, I find a student to give his or her testimony about the trip. This year, however, we are going to do something unique. One of my students, Nicole Arthur, (who has been on this trip as well the past four years) is a creative writing major and has written a fiction piece about her experience in the Dominican Republic with a boy she met named Santigo (pictured) called What You Taste in the Rain: Santigo’s Story. The following link is the first chapter of her book. Please Read it and enjoy!
http://thepittstop220.blogspot.com/2013/05/what-you-taste-in-rain-santigos-story.html
You may have seen from the chart that our monthly giving remained at $3200, 91% of where we need to be. We are very thankful for the support given to us. I have been raising this support so I can minister to students like Nicole, and see how God has worked in her life during her years at Pitt. Working with college students and seeing God transform them is a true blessing and I thank God every day for this opportunity. If you would like to help this ministry, we are always looking for new supporters. If God leads you to do so, we would love for you to be a part of this ministry through gift and/or prayer. We trust for you and for us that God will provide. He always has, and He always will. We thank you, and may God bless you richly because you have given to advance His kingdom! Please be in prayer that God will continue to build our support team and that we would be faithful in doing our part.
Moore News
Our family has been through quite a lot in the past few months. To sum up, I lost my grandmother, Betty Stephens, and Emily lost her mother, Kathryn Winter. Through tragedy, we have been surrounded by the love of friends and family and reminded that God is faithful, steadfast, and a restorer. We have grown closer as a family, though it has been a very difficult time. Please be in prayer for continued healing in our time of mourning.
Luckily summer is now here for me, and once again I get some much needed time off. Again, I will spend this summer focused on renewal: spiritually, emotionally, and physically. It will also be a great to spend more time with the family, teaching the boys the intricacies of baseball, teaching Benjamin to ride a bike, as well as many other recreational activities. And, hopefully, I can get a few more newsletters out.
As Paul says in Philippians, “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace... And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.” These verses are extremely appropriate with how I am feeling about each and everyone who has supported Emily and myself. Thanks and God Bless!
In Christ,
Andy Moore
“Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled. And he said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man also have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it.”-John 11:32-38
Have you ever wondered why we cry when someone dies? From the time we are in elementary school, we learn that death is a natural part of life; you are born, you live, and you die. It is the life cycle and it is natural. So if it is natural, why do we cry?
I believe that we cry at funerals because we realize that death is not natural. We realize that there was something that was originally created as good, and that it is good no longer. Consciously or subconsciously we realize that death was never part of the original creation, it was never part of God’s original plan, and that is why we feel so uncomfortable. No matter who you are, or what you believe (atheist, agnostics, Islam, or any other religion), you are grieved by death. Death is unnatural.
I believe that God realizes this as well, that death is not natural. Jesus, who we believe is God incarnate, that is, God in the form of man, experienced this in the above passage. If we take a look at the above passage in its original Greek, the meaning of the words “deeply moved” (found twice) literally means to snort with anger. The question herein lies: Who was Jesus angry at? Was it Mary? Was it the crowd? No, I believe that Jesus was angry at death.
Jesus understood that this was not what the world was supposed to be like and he, being God, realized to the fullest that death was unnatural. Shortly after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (found later in John 11), Jesus sacrificed himself on the cross to restore what was broken, and start to restore this world and our relationship with him back to its original state. He died to bridge the gap that was broken between God and man and three days later rose again showing that the unnatural death did not have power over a supernatural God. In other words, Jesus did the unnatural: he died. And by doing so we might live.
God is a restorer. It is in his very nature to do so. So if you are grieving, if you feel lost, just remember that Jesus will take what is unnatural and make it natural again.
Why We Do What We Do
http://thepittstop220.blogspot.com/2013/05/what-you-taste-in-rain-santigos-story.html
Moore News
Luckily summer is now here for me, and once again I get some much needed time off. Again, I will spend this summer focused on renewal: spiritually, emotionally, and physically. It will also be a great to spend more time with the family, teaching the boys the intricacies of baseball, teaching Benjamin to ride a bike, as well as many other recreational activities. And, hopefully, I can get a few more newsletters out.
As Paul says in Philippians, “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace... And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God.” These verses are extremely appropriate with how I am feeling about each and everyone who has supported Emily and myself. Thanks and God Bless!
In Christ,
Andy Moore
What You Taste in the Rain: Santigo’s Story
Written by Nicole Arthur
You think of Santigo when you stand in the rain. You think of his innocent, chipped-tooth smile, his black tar skin, the way the gold peeked out from his mud-brown irises. You think of him barefoot. Feet; dusty, rough and calloused—toes curled in, bracing themselves for each battered rock. He is not running when you think of him. He is staring. He wears a holey, orange Hawaiian button-down shirt tucked deep into powder blue gym shorts, all too big for his bone thin frame. He is a bald child, an old-man-child, and you feel his years in the way he grabs your hand and forces it around a swollen stalk of sugar cane. He makes your head feel light and your chest feel heavy—you flinch when you watch him tear his stalk into strips with his dagger teeth. Your tongue swells when he sucks and slurps up the lukewarm juices from the yellow fibers within—hungrily, feverishly, like he knows it by name. You ask him his name.
¿Como te llamas? You ask and a slow smile ripples through his lips. ¿Como te llamas? you ask and he stares. A smaller child waddles by you with a stick and a rag. You snap at him and point to the child before you. ¿Como se llama? You ask him and without looking up, he raps the dead stick against his hand and keeps walking. Sawn-tee-goh, he says, cuddling each syllable in-between his cheeks, Santigo.
You hold a piece of hard candy in one hand and a battered jump rope in the other. You extend them both. Quieres? His eyes drift skeptically over at your hands and then down at his feet. He grinds his heels deep into the earth but he does not move. You sit down in the dirt and motion for him to join you. He does and you smile because he made something nice move inside you. You set the candy and the jump rope in front of you and stare ahead. You feel his gold eyes scanning your body—your pink spotted skin, your meaty flesh. You are all of a sudden very aware of your size. Your legs are trees and your stomach holds the sun and you wrap your arms around yourself and try to look weak. You glance over and he is carving a deep line in the dirt with what remains of the stalk of sugar cane. You stare now at his limbs, they are close enough in diameter to the sugar cane that you feel scared and you wonder if you held him, how he would keep from breaking. Love them, your trip leader says, they just wanna be loved.
You look around and scan the village. Big white shapes move clumsily around the Haitian women and children. Some throw balls awkwardly through the air, wordlessly. Some carry small writhing black bodies on their backs. The children grab their silk fine hair and the white hands grab their black sandpaper feet and the children yell, Caballo! Caballo! And the white mouths cackle and neigh, pretending to buck them off, pretending to have their kind of strength. They run around with cameras and bubbles and sweat pools in the small of their backs and seeps through their cotton shirts. Many carry Bibles. The Dominican sun digs into their pores.
When the guide had yelled over the lip of the cattle truck and said you were almost there, you stood with the others with raised eyebrows and long necks trying to see up and over and through the dense fields of sugar cane. Just when you were convinced that they went on forever, the cane melted away and revealed a large round clearing. Rusting squares of tin and scrap metal fused together like Frankenstein, form sloppy lean-tos and tarp-roofed cubicles. The fifteen or so homes made the shape of a cross in the huge dirt clearing. From the road, you would have never even known it existed—this small sad sugar cane village—you would have only known the growing greens and yellows, the powder blue sky.
A man stands by a crooked shanty pointing at the pages of a book as a dark leathery face peeks over his shoulder, like a child sneaking downstairs after bedtime. He draws the face into the pages. He lets the pages do the work and he looks up at the sky. He sends his hands in abrupt and meaningful arcs through the air and nods forward emphatically with every word. The face nods in time with him now and you feel something for him.
A group of smaller children gather underneath the shade of a large tree. A man with lighter brown skin stands above them gesturing wildly, flailing ripe limbs through the sugary air, to the rhythm of the music. Dios es bueno, el me levantó. They clap cracked hands and bounce their bare butts against the bark of the tree. Dios es bueno, mi vida cambió. A young girl, no older than fourteen, stands back from the rest near a wooden post. She cradles a small living thing—too small—near her chest and even she is thumping her big toe to the beat of the music. She does not smile. You realize now that the small thing is feeding on her. She grimaces and shakes and adjusts the sagging breast and you swear you can hear the sucking, the wheezing—the soft coo of her words, Aki, mi bebe, aki.
You hadn’t realized Santigo had been humming along to the man’s song until he stopped. You become very aware of him now, feeling his shadow rest against your shoulder. You use your pointer finger to push the piece of candy across the line. He stares at it. Then you. Then it. Then you. And he keeps his eyes on you as he picks it up slowly and sends it to his yawning mouth. The wrapper, you say weakly and as you say it he is pushing the plastic wrapping out of his mouth and catching it in between his teeth. He spits it out and you watch it float gently down to the folds of his shirt. You look up and he is smiling with his chin up.
For the next few minutes you make music in your head to the sound of him sucking. You even pull out the stalk of sugar cane from your pocket and think about drumming it against the earth to the beat. You decide this might only be okay for him to do and you don’t want to be not okay and so you rub it back and forth between your dry palms.
****************************
After a while you dig through your pack and find a fake rubber baseball. You bring the ball to eyelevel and widen your lids slightly. ¿Quieres? He just stares blankly so you stand up and make for another kid. Probably one that has been walking around you picking small green kernels up from the ground and collecting them in an empty and battered coke bottle. You catch his eye and hold up the ball, stealing glances at Santigo over your shoulder. ¿Quieres jugar? you ask the other child boldly. He shakes his head aggressively and gallops backwards, smacking his hands together and then pushing his palms towards the air. He licks his lips. You toss it underhand and as soon as you release it, the boy balls his hands into fists and steps back and to the side into a baseball stance that takes your breath and pauses time and then you are watching that fake rubber ball soar through the air like a small living thing and everything gets blurry as you watch the boy run a large square around you. You throw your hands up excitedly and you hear yourself, sounding not quite like yourself, saying Bien! Muy bien! The kid jumps up and down smiling and laughing. He lets his tongue fall carelessly out of his mouth.
You don’t notice Santigo approaching until you see his shadow in the dirt. You turn and he darts away into the sugar cane. The other child comes near to your leg—so near his face is almost brushing your hand, and together you watch Santigo climb a bent tree in the distance. He squirms out onto a thick limb and you are surprised because you realize you are holding your breath. He grips a straight branch and rips it from its home. You blink and he is back on the ground. He is running towards you with the branch poised like a javelin or a sword and his feet are fast and they blur together and multiply and there might be four of them now and he is charging. You are scared. You dig your heels into the ground and he pulls up just before he reaches your bulging stomach. He pats it and looks up at you with desperate eyes. He cradles the branch into his chest and nods. The other child jumps once and nods. And you nod too, though you aren’t sure why and he backs up and up and up until he could almost be a man in the distance.
Listo? You yell through the empty space. He brings the stick up behind his right shoulder and plants his feet on a diagonal and you think you’d might like to stay there with him. You throw the ball, overhand this time, and the little boy makes a whistling sound with his tongue that tells you you’ve done alright, and the boy is laughing now but his whistle lasts. It defies the air and the law and it resonates through every dark and light space and thing in the entire clearing. Faces turn. Spaces turn. And everybody is waiting for Santigo’s moment. It comes and he sends it out to the corners of the earth—you don’t see it go; rather, you see that it is gone and you hear the rumbling of voices and a murmured song and you feel that something has left. Other boys have gathered around now and they are waving wildly at Santigo to run. Rápido! Rápido! Santigo stands and gazes around at the excited faces, his chest expands and contracts grandly. His eyes flash up for the briefest of seconds then he throws the branch to the sky, crouches back on his hinds, and springs forward frantically into a rough somersault. The crowd sighs, some laugh, and Santigo gets up and runs away into the cane again.
You hand the ball to the other boy and he lets your skin linger on his fingertips. You want to give him something too and so you dig out the rest of your candy and place it in handfuls in front of him. He might want you to stay but he understands what you have to do so he squats down near the pile and digs out his plastic coke bottle again and pretends to be satisfied.
********************************
As you push through the stiff green stalks, you hear humming. When you see him, he is standing. He is waiting. He walks towards you and grabs your hand. Something electric pulses through his skin and you flinch. He holds tight, clasping your middle and pointer finger tight between the warmth of his fists. You try to arc your pinky down and around so that it is touching his hand also. It hurts but you make it work. You duck and writhe through the sugar, trying to keep up with his wise, beaten feet. You stumble and struggle but Santigo is patient and he understands the way you move and he knows that it is not your fault. He lets go and you are at a smaller clearing.
The stalks here are black and burnt down to the roots. They burn it so it grows, the guide yelled through the rushing wind as you passed by the stretches of black and collapsed cane. When the time is right, they just burn it all down. It makes it grow, he says excitedly, running a well-manicured hand through is bronze mane. The charred bits of cane and ash blow off in the wind and dance through the air as you breathe it in. You let the black flakes fall and melt on a warm tongue. Santigo watches. He rolls up his bright Hawaiian sleeve—slowly, carefully, and exposes a warped arm. The skin on it is crisp but oily, pink but brown. It is glassy but rough and bulbous—mutated, swollen flesh. He holds it out and looks up at you expectantly.
He wants something from you and you might know what and your skull contracts just a little bit tighter around your brain and a sharp pang echoes through your chest. You rest your body on knees now and trace the wrinkles and lines and bumps of his scars with a shaky finger. He keeps his eyes on your face and you are embarrassed. Something wet rolls down your cheek and then it is raining. He rolls down his sleeve hurriedly and gently strokes the surface of your arm. The rain meets his finger and draws translucent streaks over your flesh. You flex your muscle and soften it and you watch the rain roll clean stripes of pure brown against his ashy skin. You don’t know why but you mark a cross in the wet on his forehead and he smiles. Something like a chill ripples over you and he notices.
He claps the outsides of your thighs and motions for you to rise. You feel no blood in your veins, no beat, and you slump over helplessly. The rain falls critically around you and you hear a soft melody sifting through his lips. Dios es bueno, el me levanto. Dios es bueno… and when you look up he is standing again, pounding rough feet into the mushy earth and smacking wet hands against his knobby knees. He is not smiling. But he is trying and you are thankful. You mimic his moves and try to welcome the rain but something dark is living in your throat now; it chokes you. The drops fall from above and seep from lidded eyes and you would give anything for it to keep on raining. He rips open a piece of sugar cane and together you dig into them with fighting teeth. You let the rain mix into the yellow gold crevices. You make sugar soup and slurp it up. You pretend to be satisfied.
And when the swollen rain is slapping hard against your soft soggy skin and air is rushing through air like two trains colliding, you think of him. Santigo.
And you hear him whisper thick syllabus through the roaring rain—something like a history. My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?
You think of Santigo when you stand in the rain. You think of his innocent, chipped-tooth smile, his black tar skin, the way the gold peeked out from his mud-brown irises. You think of him barefoot. Feet; dusty, rough and calloused—toes curled in, bracing themselves for each battered rock. He is not running when you think of him. He is staring. He wears a holey, orange Hawaiian button-down shirt tucked deep into powder blue gym shorts, all too big for his bone thin frame. He is a bald child, an old-man-child, and you feel his years in the way he grabs your hand and forces it around a swollen stalk of sugar cane. He makes your head feel light and your chest feel heavy—you flinch when you watch him tear his stalk into strips with his dagger teeth. Your tongue swells when he sucks and slurps up the lukewarm juices from the yellow fibers within—hungrily, feverishly, like he knows it by name. You ask him his name.
¿Como te llamas? You ask and a slow smile ripples through his lips. ¿Como te llamas? you ask and he stares. A smaller child waddles by you with a stick and a rag. You snap at him and point to the child before you. ¿Como se llama? You ask him and without looking up, he raps the dead stick against his hand and keeps walking. Sawn-tee-goh, he says, cuddling each syllable in-between his cheeks, Santigo.
You hold a piece of hard candy in one hand and a battered jump rope in the other. You extend them both. Quieres? His eyes drift skeptically over at your hands and then down at his feet. He grinds his heels deep into the earth but he does not move. You sit down in the dirt and motion for him to join you. He does and you smile because he made something nice move inside you. You set the candy and the jump rope in front of you and stare ahead. You feel his gold eyes scanning your body—your pink spotted skin, your meaty flesh. You are all of a sudden very aware of your size. Your legs are trees and your stomach holds the sun and you wrap your arms around yourself and try to look weak. You glance over and he is carving a deep line in the dirt with what remains of the stalk of sugar cane. You stare now at his limbs, they are close enough in diameter to the sugar cane that you feel scared and you wonder if you held him, how he would keep from breaking. Love them, your trip leader says, they just wanna be loved.
You look around and scan the village. Big white shapes move clumsily around the Haitian women and children. Some throw balls awkwardly through the air, wordlessly. Some carry small writhing black bodies on their backs. The children grab their silk fine hair and the white hands grab their black sandpaper feet and the children yell, Caballo! Caballo! And the white mouths cackle and neigh, pretending to buck them off, pretending to have their kind of strength. They run around with cameras and bubbles and sweat pools in the small of their backs and seeps through their cotton shirts. Many carry Bibles. The Dominican sun digs into their pores.
When the guide had yelled over the lip of the cattle truck and said you were almost there, you stood with the others with raised eyebrows and long necks trying to see up and over and through the dense fields of sugar cane. Just when you were convinced that they went on forever, the cane melted away and revealed a large round clearing. Rusting squares of tin and scrap metal fused together like Frankenstein, form sloppy lean-tos and tarp-roofed cubicles. The fifteen or so homes made the shape of a cross in the huge dirt clearing. From the road, you would have never even known it existed—this small sad sugar cane village—you would have only known the growing greens and yellows, the powder blue sky.
A man stands by a crooked shanty pointing at the pages of a book as a dark leathery face peeks over his shoulder, like a child sneaking downstairs after bedtime. He draws the face into the pages. He lets the pages do the work and he looks up at the sky. He sends his hands in abrupt and meaningful arcs through the air and nods forward emphatically with every word. The face nods in time with him now and you feel something for him.
A group of smaller children gather underneath the shade of a large tree. A man with lighter brown skin stands above them gesturing wildly, flailing ripe limbs through the sugary air, to the rhythm of the music. Dios es bueno, el me levantó. They clap cracked hands and bounce their bare butts against the bark of the tree. Dios es bueno, mi vida cambió. A young girl, no older than fourteen, stands back from the rest near a wooden post. She cradles a small living thing—too small—near her chest and even she is thumping her big toe to the beat of the music. She does not smile. You realize now that the small thing is feeding on her. She grimaces and shakes and adjusts the sagging breast and you swear you can hear the sucking, the wheezing—the soft coo of her words, Aki, mi bebe, aki.
You hadn’t realized Santigo had been humming along to the man’s song until he stopped. You become very aware of him now, feeling his shadow rest against your shoulder. You use your pointer finger to push the piece of candy across the line. He stares at it. Then you. Then it. Then you. And he keeps his eyes on you as he picks it up slowly and sends it to his yawning mouth. The wrapper, you say weakly and as you say it he is pushing the plastic wrapping out of his mouth and catching it in between his teeth. He spits it out and you watch it float gently down to the folds of his shirt. You look up and he is smiling with his chin up.
For the next few minutes you make music in your head to the sound of him sucking. You even pull out the stalk of sugar cane from your pocket and think about drumming it against the earth to the beat. You decide this might only be okay for him to do and you don’t want to be not okay and so you rub it back and forth between your dry palms.
****************************
After a while you dig through your pack and find a fake rubber baseball. You bring the ball to eyelevel and widen your lids slightly. ¿Quieres? He just stares blankly so you stand up and make for another kid. Probably one that has been walking around you picking small green kernels up from the ground and collecting them in an empty and battered coke bottle. You catch his eye and hold up the ball, stealing glances at Santigo over your shoulder. ¿Quieres jugar? you ask the other child boldly. He shakes his head aggressively and gallops backwards, smacking his hands together and then pushing his palms towards the air. He licks his lips. You toss it underhand and as soon as you release it, the boy balls his hands into fists and steps back and to the side into a baseball stance that takes your breath and pauses time and then you are watching that fake rubber ball soar through the air like a small living thing and everything gets blurry as you watch the boy run a large square around you. You throw your hands up excitedly and you hear yourself, sounding not quite like yourself, saying Bien! Muy bien! The kid jumps up and down smiling and laughing. He lets his tongue fall carelessly out of his mouth.
You don’t notice Santigo approaching until you see his shadow in the dirt. You turn and he darts away into the sugar cane. The other child comes near to your leg—so near his face is almost brushing your hand, and together you watch Santigo climb a bent tree in the distance. He squirms out onto a thick limb and you are surprised because you realize you are holding your breath. He grips a straight branch and rips it from its home. You blink and he is back on the ground. He is running towards you with the branch poised like a javelin or a sword and his feet are fast and they blur together and multiply and there might be four of them now and he is charging. You are scared. You dig your heels into the ground and he pulls up just before he reaches your bulging stomach. He pats it and looks up at you with desperate eyes. He cradles the branch into his chest and nods. The other child jumps once and nods. And you nod too, though you aren’t sure why and he backs up and up and up until he could almost be a man in the distance.
Listo? You yell through the empty space. He brings the stick up behind his right shoulder and plants his feet on a diagonal and you think you’d might like to stay there with him. You throw the ball, overhand this time, and the little boy makes a whistling sound with his tongue that tells you you’ve done alright, and the boy is laughing now but his whistle lasts. It defies the air and the law and it resonates through every dark and light space and thing in the entire clearing. Faces turn. Spaces turn. And everybody is waiting for Santigo’s moment. It comes and he sends it out to the corners of the earth—you don’t see it go; rather, you see that it is gone and you hear the rumbling of voices and a murmured song and you feel that something has left. Other boys have gathered around now and they are waving wildly at Santigo to run. Rápido! Rápido! Santigo stands and gazes around at the excited faces, his chest expands and contracts grandly. His eyes flash up for the briefest of seconds then he throws the branch to the sky, crouches back on his hinds, and springs forward frantically into a rough somersault. The crowd sighs, some laugh, and Santigo gets up and runs away into the cane again.
You hand the ball to the other boy and he lets your skin linger on his fingertips. You want to give him something too and so you dig out the rest of your candy and place it in handfuls in front of him. He might want you to stay but he understands what you have to do so he squats down near the pile and digs out his plastic coke bottle again and pretends to be satisfied.
********************************
As you push through the stiff green stalks, you hear humming. When you see him, he is standing. He is waiting. He walks towards you and grabs your hand. Something electric pulses through his skin and you flinch. He holds tight, clasping your middle and pointer finger tight between the warmth of his fists. You try to arc your pinky down and around so that it is touching his hand also. It hurts but you make it work. You duck and writhe through the sugar, trying to keep up with his wise, beaten feet. You stumble and struggle but Santigo is patient and he understands the way you move and he knows that it is not your fault. He lets go and you are at a smaller clearing.
The stalks here are black and burnt down to the roots. They burn it so it grows, the guide yelled through the rushing wind as you passed by the stretches of black and collapsed cane. When the time is right, they just burn it all down. It makes it grow, he says excitedly, running a well-manicured hand through is bronze mane. The charred bits of cane and ash blow off in the wind and dance through the air as you breathe it in. You let the black flakes fall and melt on a warm tongue. Santigo watches. He rolls up his bright Hawaiian sleeve—slowly, carefully, and exposes a warped arm. The skin on it is crisp but oily, pink but brown. It is glassy but rough and bulbous—mutated, swollen flesh. He holds it out and looks up at you expectantly.
He wants something from you and you might know what and your skull contracts just a little bit tighter around your brain and a sharp pang echoes through your chest. You rest your body on knees now and trace the wrinkles and lines and bumps of his scars with a shaky finger. He keeps his eyes on your face and you are embarrassed. Something wet rolls down your cheek and then it is raining. He rolls down his sleeve hurriedly and gently strokes the surface of your arm. The rain meets his finger and draws translucent streaks over your flesh. You flex your muscle and soften it and you watch the rain roll clean stripes of pure brown against his ashy skin. You don’t know why but you mark a cross in the wet on his forehead and he smiles. Something like a chill ripples over you and he notices.
He claps the outsides of your thighs and motions for you to rise. You feel no blood in your veins, no beat, and you slump over helplessly. The rain falls critically around you and you hear a soft melody sifting through his lips. Dios es bueno, el me levanto. Dios es bueno… and when you look up he is standing again, pounding rough feet into the mushy earth and smacking wet hands against his knobby knees. He is not smiling. But he is trying and you are thankful. You mimic his moves and try to welcome the rain but something dark is living in your throat now; it chokes you. The drops fall from above and seep from lidded eyes and you would give anything for it to keep on raining. He rips open a piece of sugar cane and together you dig into them with fighting teeth. You let the rain mix into the yellow gold crevices. You make sugar soup and slurp it up. You pretend to be satisfied.
And when the swollen rain is slapping hard against your soft soggy skin and air is rushing through air like two trains colliding, you think of him. Santigo.
And you hear him whisper thick syllabus through the roaring rain—something like a history. My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?
Friday, February 8, 2013
WordFM Radio Interview
Hey everyone,
My fellow Bellefield/CCO staff workers were blessed by joining Kathy Emmons on 101.5 WordFM (http://www.wordfm.com/) to discuss the Jubilee Conference (http://www.jubileeconference.com/) and reformational worldview. If you missed the radio show and are interested in listening to it, click on the picture below and listen.
My fellow Bellefield/CCO staff workers were blessed by joining Kathy Emmons on 101.5 WordFM (http://www.wordfm.com/) to discuss the Jubilee Conference (http://www.jubileeconference.com/) and reformational worldview. If you missed the radio show and are interested in listening to it, click on the picture below and listen.
In Christ,
-Andy Moore
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