Coincidences, Providence, And Godwinks At Christmas by Bob Jones

Call them coincidences, providence or Godwinks.

When your faith needs re-assurance, they're what you can expect.

God has a timely way of letting you know He's got His eye on you, and you are never alone.

An Angel Named Lynsey

Cory and Lynsey Jones were delayed leaving Saskatoon. Our son and daughter-in-law eventually headed off for a family Christmas celebration in Delmas, Saskatchewan about 80 minutes away. They were just east of North Battleford when a black pick-up truck accelerated past them.

A hundred yards ahead now, the driver, trying to settle the Ford 150 back into its lane, hit black ice and started to fish tail. The pick-up ended up in a sideways slide down the highway before slipping into the ditch and flipping onto its roof.

Cory was already dialing 911 as Lynsey pulled their Rogue over to the side of the highway.

They dug away at the snow to get to the driver’s side door. A young student and her grandmother were trapped inside. Smoke started to rise from the under carriage. After getting the driver out, Lynsey calmly crawled through the door and said, “I’m a nurse. Are you hurt?”

The woman replied, “I’m Norwegian and its gonna take a lot more than this to kill me.”
 

A day later, after being treated for only a minor neck injury, the feisty Gramma called Lynsey her “angel.”

When You Need Assurance

Chemo and radiation treatments had left my friend Kathy suffering from severe nausea, exhaustion and unease.

She knew she was in good hands with the medical personnel at the Cross Cancer Institute in Edmonton, Alberta. What she wanted was the assurance that she was safe in God’s hands and that He would see her through.

On her way to radiation treatment on December 23rd she and her husband Jim ended up driving behind a Chevy Avalanche. The owner had a vanity license plate that displayed five simple letters – K L B U O. 

The creative arrangement of the letters on the license plate left them momentarily speechless. If you knew Kathy, you’d have to call that a second miracle. The first miracle was the message on the plate. “UL B OK.”

What are the odds of a cancer patient praying for re-assurance, ending up behind a vehicle with a license plate declaring, “You’ll be OK.”

The First Christmas Godwinks

It was like that for Mary.

When you’ve traveled eighty kilometres on a donkey in your third trimester of an unwed but wanted pregnancy, you need a place to rest body and mind.

Your name is “mud” with your family because they don’t believe your story of a miraculous conception as a virgin. The arduous trip has left you too wearied to resist the raging doubts in your mind from all that had happened over the past nine months.

A stable was no place to deliver your first born with only farm animals and an anxious first-time father as attendants. But a stable and a manager is all you have. So, you nestle your son into a feed trough.

Then, you ask for some re-assurance from the God who started this whole thing.

But you never expected assurance to come in the shape of breathless shepherds. 

An angelic host?
Good news?
Great joy?
A Savior?
Peace?
God’s favour?
A baby lying in a manger? 

What are the odds that the very words you needed to hear would come from the least likely sources.

This Christmas expect the unexpected from a God who sees and knows you.

Merry Christmas to all my friends at Inscribe and everyone who reads this post!

All God's best to you in 2026.

 

 

 

My Favorite Easter Egg Hunt Memory by Wendy L. Macdonald

 

An Easter egg hunt that stands out in my memory is one my children enjoyed at their grandparent’s house. It reminds me of a valuable life lesson. 

My husband and I brought our camper to Pender Island and parked it in my mother’s driveway. The makeshift camping spot overlooked a winding stone stairway bordered by spring flowers on either side. Daffodils, hyacinths, crocuses, tulips, and flowering shrubs painted a lovely view for us to wake up to on Easter Sunday.

While the children finished off their breakfast in the company of their grandparents, my husband and I hid cheerful, foil-covered chocolate eggs along the edges of the path that wound its way around the entire half-acre property.

Our children were aged 3, 5, and 7 at the time. They were old enough to seek and savor each egg without help or coaxing. All we adults had to do was watch and enjoy the gleeful little ones roam the gardens. 

Each child had their own method and style of searching. One child was as quick and quiet as a bunny. Another child was as boisterous as a basketful of peeping chicks. The youngest was slow but sure at finding some eggs tucked in low spots the older ones overlooked.    

I don’t remember who was the best hunter, but I have my suspicions who it was. In the end, we made sure each child had plenty of eggs to eat. Sweets were normally limited in their diets, so the Easter egg hunt was an especially delicious event for them. We began the tradition on our country property and then carried it over to our home in town too. 

Hunting for treasures in God’s Word is a sweet treat we’re invited to partake of every morning. Being like little children on the hunt for chocolate eggs will serve us well when we read our Bibles. We are wise to trust our Father to provide us with goodness. Just as none of the foil-wrapped treats the children found turned out to be a stone, God always gives us sweet edibles for the soul too. And just as caring parents ensure each child has enough, God watches over us and fills our baskets with just the right amount of encouragement and strength we need.

The life lesson the children’s Easter egg hunt reminded me of is we’re not to worry we won’t have enough. We don’t need to compare the number of eggs in our baskets with how many other people have. God’s got this. He gives us exactly what we need when we need it.

And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. 2 Corinthians 9:8 NIV

I’m nosy-to-know if you have a favorite Easter egg hunt memory too?

Blessings ~ Wendy Mac

The Providential Hand of God by Nina Faye Morey

This month’s blog theme, “God’s Connecting Points,” brought to mind several key turning points in my life when I’ve felt God’s hand guiding me. Another word for “serendipity” is “providence,” which means that God intervenes in our lives when we’re in need of divine direction, physical protection, or spiritual care. Because He’s all knowing and all powerful, He’s aware of everything that’s happening in our lives. He knows our heart’s every desire, and He’s eager to answer our prayers. He willingly and lovingly cares and provides for us. He knows His purpose for our lives and wants to help us succeed. Every microscopic detail of our lives is under His control. Since we have such a providential and faithful Father, we should always remember to thank Him when we prosper, patiently wait on Him in the face of adversity, have confidence in Him when we falter, and trust that He has good plans in store for our future.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him,

who have been called according to his purpose.

~ Romans 8:28

Even when our lives seem chaotic and out of control, we can still be assured that God’s watching over us. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I felt my world was falling apart and my life would soon be over. I grieved because I thought I’d never be able to do all the things I’d planned. But I never stopped praying, and God faithfully answered my prayers for healing. I’m now a five-year cancer survivor, and I hope He’s not done with me yet.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,

“plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.”

~ Jeremiah 29:11

During my chemotherapy treatments, my immunity dipped so low I was even afraid to attend church. I still distastefully recall the daily shots I received to boost my immunity. On top of all this, I was allergic to one of my medications and developed a nasty, red, itchy rash! But God was there for me through all of this. He led me to watch religions programs like “The Living Truth” and “Joyce Meyer” on television. I found comfort through their teachings and scribbled down notes whenever a sermon moved me. I found many of these notes useful in my writing. Whenever I wanted to use scripture to illustrate a point, God’s finger pointed me to just the right verse in my Bible.

I first committed my writing to God, when He led me to 1 Corinthians 12, regarding the gifts given by the Holy Spirit. I felt I was being guided to use my writing ability to bless others. Since then, God’s led me to write about topics, like my cancer, that I would never have considered otherwise. Things I’ve had first-hand experience with that might help others to deal with these issues. The Holy Spirit has definitely been at work in my life. He’s a trustworthy mentor who’s helped me use my words to help, inspire, and comfort others.

Later, when I was feeling stuck in my writing career, God led me to InScribe through a local writing group (HisImprint). When it disbanded, that was His cue for me to get more involved with InScribe. Then I started to think about editing, and God sent Sheila Webster to my doorstep with an offer to become FellowScript’s columns editor and, subsequently, editor-in-chief. Once again, signs of God’s providential hand guiding me towards good things and a glorious future.

Photo Credit: Nina Faye Morey

Is There Any Escape from Noise? by Bruce Atchison

Finding quietude is such a rare experience in our world these days. Flatulent vehicles, blasting stereos, roaring jet planes: they all ruin our repose.

My professional writing career started out poorly. Those churlish next door neighbours assumed nobody would mind all those shrieking boys their son invited over. Neither should anybody dislike hearing their dogs barking each evening for hours on end. After all, everyone likes dogs, don't they? The same goes for loud music and clouds of barbecue smoke, right?

I found no escape from noise for those first four years. Believing that I could have more say over noise at a condo, I sold my house and bought one. What a huge mistake. The rumble of traffic and junky cars coming into the parking lot created tremors in the floor I could actually feel. Worse yet, a belligerent young man figured that he could tune up cars in the parking lot and nobody should complain about the racket. When I did, he became as incensed as my previous neighbours.

Fearing for my life, I moved to an adults-only high rise. That was a big mistake too. The suites were being sold as condos, prompting people to renovate them throughout the  day and long into the evening. One old man also used a storage space next to my bedroom daily as his carpentry shop. He gave the apartment manager many lame excuses when I complained but she ordered him to stop. Even so, renovating continued unabated.

Renting the main floor of a house became my third blunder. The neighbours ran a tow truck company out of their home. Diesel rumblings and their loud backyard music broke my concentration daily. Those owners also became enraged when I politely asked them to turn down the stereo volume

Our heavenly Father showed his compassion by delivering me from the noisy city to a quiet hamlet. It had everything I asked for. Radway had a grocery store, a drugstore, a post office, and my house was across the tracks. No nearby neighbours derailed my train of thought either.

I praise and thank the Lord daily for my miracle home. The money, the listing, and the right real estate lady providentially came together to rescue me from the torment of city noise. Living here is like a permanent writing retreat. What an awesome God we serve!

Just Keep On Truckin' - Bruce Atchison

Have you ever felt like you were flogging a dead horse, yet you believed that the animal would somehow revive and take you somewhere? That's how I feel about my latest memoir. I know that it's a good book and I gave it my best effort, yet marketing it feels like pushing a rope uphill.

In November of 2012, I finally published How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. Four-and-a-half-years of effort went into that testimony of God's providential work in my life. I hoped it would bless the lives of its readers and sell enough copies to show Canada Pension Plan that I wasn't merely lounging around all day. After sending out press releases and promoting my new book on my blogs, I waited for the orders to come in.

My hopes were dashed when the expected flood of orders was more like a few drops. Thanks to a few kind friends, I managed to sell my paperbacks at various meetings and a crafts sale. Even so, the number of books sold was, and still is, patheticly low. Even my e-book version, which various folks assured me was the new wave of publishing, didn't sell very well.

So why am I still whipping this dead horse? I believe that my testimony shows, not tells, the great mercy of the heavenly Father and the diabolical nature of cultic organizations. My hope is that victims of toxic churches will discover and identify with the story of my years devoted to the wrong cause. Perhaps what I wrote about turning painful memories to Christ will give them the tools to undo the damage done to them by cruel misleaders.

I also believe that the Lord placed the burden on my heart to tell my story of being deceived and then deprogrammed by his truth. Far too many new believers lack discipleship and become easy prey for cults. In my case, I wanted the power and advanced knowledge offered by the house church. I had a great hunger for the Word of God but the mainline churches never provided me anything substantial. In fact, it was the cult which provided me insubstantial spiritual food. I know I'm not the only one to whom these false shepherds offered outlandish promises of power and secret knowledge.

I plan to quit actively promoting my latest memoir at the end of this year. Short-story writing has interested me for years but I only dabbled in the genre thus far. Because I've had a love for making up stories since I was a boy, I'll give fiction a whirl and see what happens. No other form of writing has attracted my attention as of this writing so I'll try writing short stories.


Bruce Atchison is a legally-blind freelance writer as well as the author of How I Was Razed, Deliverance from Jericho, and When a Man Loves a Rabbit. He lives in a small Alberta hamlet with his house rabbit, Deborah.

I'm Glad I Missed That Bus - Bruce Atchison.

Why doesn't God do miracles today? That was what I often wondered throughout my childhood and early adult years. The Bible is filled with accounts of supernatural healings, storms being stopped, days being lengthened, armies routed, food being multiplied, and dead people being resurrected. Not until a few years ago did I learn of a special sort of miraculous process that occurs continually, yet we rarely acknowledge it.

As R. C. Sproul once explained on his Renewing Your Mind radio program, providence requires much more in the way of miraculous power than any straight-forward miracle would. So many factors have to line up perfectly for the providential act to take place. I experienced many of these, one of the most notable being the time I missed the last bus home after a meeting of shortwave enthusiasts.

When I told Don, the man in whose house the meeting was held, what happened, he graciously let me sleep on his couch. Since he didn't provide me with a disposable razor or tooth brush, I looked dishevelled the next morning when I reported to work at the airports branch of the federal government. I usually brought a bag lunch to work but as I hadn't been home to make one, I ate lunch at the cafeteria. While speaking to an acquaintance seated across from me, I mentioned that I needed a new place to live as my current apartment was too noisy. She said the main floor of her house was vacant and asked if I would be interested in seeing it. When I arrived there the next Sunday afternoon, I knew that the place would be much better than that hole in the wall I currently rented.

Because of one missed bus, I ended up renting a much better place where I had three years of peace. The embarrassment I felt about waiting on the wrong side of the street and having to beg a night's lodging from the president of the Canadian International DX Club was far outweighed by the years of quietude I enjoyed at my acquaintance's house.

My upcoming How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir contains many examples of God's kind providence. Even his letting me join a cultic house church has redounded to his glory in that I now know the truth. Because of being deceived, I feel a burning desire to defend the Word.

My previous books, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance from Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School) also show the Lord's providence in my life, even though some experiences were far from enjoyable. Read more about them here. You're also welcome to write to me directly if you like.

Commitment and Providence by Marcia Lee Laycock

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative there is one elemental truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.All sorts of things occur to help that would never have otherwise occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings, and material assistance which no man or woman would have dreamed could have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it.Boldness has genius, power, and magic to it.Begin it now." Goethe

Let’s play what if. What if Abram didn’t pull up the tent pegs and set off from Ur. What if Noah didn’t pick up the hammer? What if Moses didn’t pick up the staff? What if Gideon didn’t climb out of the winepress and break down the altar to Baal? What if Joshua didn’t march around Jericho? What if Ruth didn’t go with Naomi? What if David didn’t take the provisions to his brothers on the front lines? What if Solomon didn’t build the temple? What if Shaphan the secretary didn’t read the book of the Law to Josiah? What if Josiah didn’t tear his robes? What if Esther stayed home? What if Daniel didn’t pay attention to his dreams? What if Matthew didn’t walk away from the tax collectors booth? What if Peter didn’t put down his nets?

What if you don’t take up your pen?