Overdraft Protection

 

Savings overdraft protection is a wonderful thing. It is essentially a banking "Get Out of Jail Free" card for checkbook accounting errors. The savings overdraft protection feature pairs a savings account a with a checking accounts so, in the event that the checking account should be overdrawn, it can get its money from the savings account without paying a penalty. Genius! 
I love this idea and have enjoyed its benefits on more than one overdraft occasion. Plus, overdraft protection provides me with peace of mind. I need not fear a of a hefty overdraft fee should I calculate my checkbook in error. Thanks to the concept of overdraft protection I've even been encouraged to save more and spend less.
There is, however, one critical catch with savings account overdraft protection. The checking account in distress must be paired to the right savings account, one that is active and has sufficient funds. Overdraft protection is only as useful as the account it's attached to.
In my case, on this particular overdraft occasion, my overdraft protection didn't do me much good as it turns out it wasn't paired to an active and filled savings account. When I over-drafted, a plea for help was sent out to my retired (and drained) savings account. My active (and well stocked) savings account never received the SOS for financial help and therefore it didn't provide me a cent's worth of protection.
After being assessed a hefty fee I made a trip to the bank where a kind teller set my account right. She graciously removed the overdraft charge and credited my account. Then she re-paired my active accounts to ensure my future protection.

You see, what that teller did for me was just a sliver of a glimmer of the grace of Jesus Christ who offers my soul eternal protection and salvation by uniting with His perfect account. It is by the blood of the Lamb that I am freed from every fee and charge. I am free from the condemnation of sin. I am free from the worry of overdrafting into eternal doom. Because Jesus has paired His perfect account to my sin, I am forgiven and free.
I wonder, dear Friends, have you paired your sin to Christ's perfect account? Have you made Him your soul's protection and signed up to enjoy His saving grace? Have you put your trust and belief in His all-sufficient funds? With Jesus Christ as your soul's eternal protection you will never need to fear the penalty of sin. United with Him in His death and raised with Him to new life, a new account with eternal security will provide you peace and security.

In His death and resurrection Jesus made His life the propitiation for our sins and the protection for our souls. He cleansed us of every fee and debt we could never pay and He continues to provide us with the all-sufficient funds of His grace that save us for now and eternity. 
So what are you waiting for? Bring your account to the foot His cross and take refuge in the eternal protection of God's saving grace.

OVERSIZE LOAD

The morning commute up the steep hill in the Pittsburgh hills was slow and tedious. It was well past rush hour so, being impatient, I wondered why the hold up? Around the next curvy bend in the road my question was answered in the bright yellow OVERSIZE LOAD sign flapping in the wind.
As I approached the back of a massive semi I understood why the truck was moving so slowly. It was carrying a gigantic load of precious cargo: a ranch style home with blue shutters and a white front porch. All that the house was missing were rocking chairs and the smiling home owners. The convoy of pilot vehicles all bearing orange flags and flashing blinkers were a sure give away that a major delivery production was underway.
On the steep and winding highway fellow drivers hesitantly passed the slow-going oversize parade. Each car hugged the inside line as best they could in an attempt to avoid a collision with the home's front porch. When it was my turn to pass I did the same, holding my breath as I whizzed past the precarious load. 
As I made my way past the semi's cabin I looked up to see a man seated behind the big-rig's steering wheel with eyes faithfully fixated on the road ahead. On his face he wore a look of determination and dedication to safely deliver his precious oversize load no matter how long and tedious the journey.
A moment later the semi driver and his load were in my rear view mirror. The caravan faded out of sight but Jesus kept it in my mind..."Do you trust that I can deliver your OVERSIZE load?"  In the oversize load Jesus lovingly reminded me that He has all the power and will to deliver me and my life's oversize loads.
With His spotless driving record and flawless steering, Christ is the only one capable of safely delivering my heavy burdens and carrying my most cumbersome loads. There is no OVERSIZE LOAD on earth too great for the Lord. He willingly and graciously climbs into the cabin of my life and ensures a safe arrival for all of my burdens, sorrows and pains. He treats each one as His most precious cargo.
As God takes my burdens along the journey of life's highway He employs all the forces of His will to guarantee a safe arrival. He will orchestrate a caravan of pilot cars, flashing lights and waving flags to secure His cargo and protect the fulfillment of His plans. Over hills and mountains, along windy ways and low valleys, God remains faithful and true to the  His word to take up my burdens and bring them to their destination.
When the mountains ahead look too steep and the road too twisted for me to maneuver I need not fret because God is the one behind the wheel. In His overcoming life that carried the heaviest load of the cross, my burden is lifted. In His victory that defeated death and rose in eternal life I am assured of its final, restful destination.
With Jesus Christ as my guarantee, I can boldly, confidently and peacefully proclaim, "Yes, Lord Jesus, I trust you to deliver my OVERSIZE load!"

BREAKING NEWS!

BREAKING NEWS!
...
I'm growing out my hair.

For my faithful and longtime Pippy Love readers you'll recall that this is not my first breaking hair news. About a year ago I made a stunning announcement about a pixie cut and confirmed the news with a picture. (For those who would like a refresher on my hair journey you can read Pixie Perfect here.) The decision to cut off my hair was made in haste but I was pleased with the results and for the past year I have happily embraced my new look. So why the change in hair style direction, you may ask? The answer is quite simple...faith. After all, faith is what sparked the cutting of my hair in the first place.
Back last year I was living under the cloud of Multiple Sclerosis and a lifetime of disease management. I wasn't thinking about full healing or ever regaining the full functioning of my body. I had decided to accept the reality of a lifetime of downhill progression and choose joy in the face of sorrow. I would praise God in the face of pain. I would cut off my hair and rock a pixie cut in the face of dramatically thinning hair!
But then, six months ago, the heavy MS cloud full of healing hopelessness lifted from overhead. In its place Lyme Disease has descended with the hope of true and total physical healing, down to the very hairs on my head.
The hope of God's healing hair restoration has sparked in my mind's eye visions of my face draped in longer hair. I can see myself wearing a bouncy pony-tail again. With a renewed promise for healing has come the glorious hope of fuller, thicker, healthier, hair. Hair more lustrous than ever before! Health more abundant, vibrant and beautiful than ever before!
Right now my hair is at an awkward stage of growth and my body isn't at its most favorable stage of regeneration. But these stages shall pass. The uneven, split end stage of my hair's regrowth will pass. The aches and pains of my body's regeneration will pass. Exhaustion and an unattractive hairdo are just part of the healing journey but they are not the final destination.
Soon, very soon, I trust that God is going to make visible the reality of my body's inner restoration. I believe He is about to reveal His healing with weight on my bones, strength in my muscles and even hairs on my head.
My faith is in my Great Physician. My hope is in His will and power to heal and I'm declaring from the depths of my soul to the very hairs on my head:
I TRUST AND BELIEVE GOD IS WORKING IN MY BODY  TO BRING ABOUT TOTAL, FULL AND COMPLETE RESTORATION AND HEALING!

Yes, Jesus Loves Me

Joshua sat on the hard, wooden kitchen floor with his blanket covering his lap and a stream of gooey tears covering his face. The young child was inconsolable. His cheeks were a fiery red. He gasped for air between sobs. His shoulders quivered with sharp jerks up and down as he let out audible whimpers and cries.
Joshua was utterly traumatized. His mom was gone. One minute she was there and then poof! She was out the door and out of sight. It happened so suddenly. They had always been together, Mother and son, and then Mother took son to a foreign land and left him behind. Even when he tried to cling to her she protested his coming and left him all alone.
At least that's what the two year old crying on the kitchen thought when his Mom departed Grandma's house to run some errands for the morning. From the moment his eyes saw the troubling sight of Grandma's front door he was on edge. From previous experience he knew what was coming next. Trips to Grandma's, or church nursery, always ended with Mom walking away while Joshua stayed behind.
For some children this might have produced not a single tear but that was not the case for Joshua. He protested loudly the departure of his Mom and never fully recovered from the agony of her absence until her return arrival. In her presence his anxieties were calmed and peace was restored but until that blessed moment he refused to be held or comforted. Even a cookie couldn't calm him down. Joshua pushed away sugar and frosting as he flung himself down on the most uncomfortable floor in the house and proceeded to cry.
At a loss for how to ease Joshua's distress I knelt down on the floor before him and started to sing. I'm not a mother yet but my experience with many nieces and nephews has taught me that when in doubt, music is worth a try. And so I began with my personal favorite, Amazing Grace, and hoped Joshua would enjoy my musical selection. Two verses and three choruses later, Joshua was still crying.
I tried a few other songs. Each one met similar results. Joshua's shoulders were still rising up sharply in quiet quivers and his cheeks were still quite red. Convinced that music wasn't helping I was about to give up when Grandma made a request for Jesus Loves Me. Never one to deny a song request, I started in with the familiar children's song. "Jesus loves me this I know...for the Bible tells me so...Little ones to him belong...They are weak but He is strong..."
For a moment's pause after the first verse I thought Joshua had settled down but a few beats later I realized he wasn't any calmer. He let out one final throaty sob before he got up with his blanket to escape into another room. Apparently, Joshua did not want to hear that Jesus loved him.
I almost laughed at the irony of it. When confronted with the comfort of Jesus' love, Joshua wanted to flee. Surely this little tune with such a simple melody and the peaceful message should have stilled his stress and anxieties. It should have quieted his soul and put his heart at rest!
But the irony of Joshua's distress is the same irony of my own heart's refusal to rest in Jesus' love. Surely the good news of being precious to the Lord should still my own anxieties and comfort my own soul but how often do I flee from the God's love? In distress and trouble when I am crying out to God with laments and sobs that come from the depths of my spirit do I find my peace and serenity in knowing that Jesus loves me? Is the Bible's truth enough to steady my heart? Is belonging to Him and being upheld by His strength my rock and foundation, steadying me in times and trouble and delivering me from all fear?
Joshua crawled/staggered/stumbled away from my singing and eventually cried himself into a sound sleep. At least he had a good nap at Grandma's. Before long, his Mom pulled back into the driveway and peace descended on Joshua like a flood. All was right with the world again.

In Joshua's refusal to be consoled in his time of need I saw myself push away and against the comfort of God. Convinced that my hardships are too dire, my sorrow too upsetting, I have separated myself from His love and chosen instead to lay in the misery of my depressed heart's cold, bleak floor.
But no matter how hard I cry or how red my cheeks, God doesn't give up singing His truth to me. Even when I turn from the goodness of His presence He draws near to me with lullabies of His love. God's soothes my soul and upholds me in His grace. Jesus washes away my sobs as He sings, "I love you...this you know...for the Bible tells you so...little one, to Me you belong...alone you are weak, but with Me you are strong..."
Yes...Jesus loves me...

I once was trapped...

The SUV's hazard blinkers were the first indication that the car I was approaching from behind was up to something unusual. I squinted into the sun light in an attempt to understand why the vehicle was parked at a stop sign. The traffic was practically non-existent so that couldn't be the cause of the delay and there was no smoke or flat tire to indicate car trouble.
I came to a stop behind the rusted out silver SUV just as the driver's door opened and a woman practically jumped out of her seat. She was a woman on a mission. At first I thought a Chinese fire drill was underway but a second person didn't appear to switch driving positions with the frantic woman. Instead she rushed to the back of the car, right next to the passenger rear tire, and crawled half of her body underneath the vehicle.
By this point I was bewildered. This was a first. Never before had I ever seen an individual crawl underneath their vehicle at a stop sign. I suppose I could have pulled my car around the parked vehicle to continue on my journey without delay but I was transfixed by what this woman was up to. It didn't take but a moment for me to find out.
The woman scooted herself out from underneath the car and popped back up with her hands clasped in front of her. She looked back at me, seeing me for the very first time. She must have known this was an usual scene because she raised her locked hands up towards the sky and nodded her head towards the feathers sticking out from in-between her fingertips.
It was a baby bird.
Amazingly enough the bird was alive. I'm not sure how, since it appeared that the woman had actually run over the fledgling fowl, but the movement within her hands was undeniable. There was life and breath in that bird.
The woman ran around to the driver's side of the car and opened up the SUV's back door. Carefully yet gingerly she placed the bird on the seat. With a wave and a smile the woman bid her farewell, hopped back into the driver's seat and drove off.
And that was it.
As quickly as the scene began, it ended and the bird rescuer was out of sight but ever since witnessing her bird rescuing mission I haven't been able to get it out of my mind. Her concern for the little bird was written in the panic on her face. She risked angering other drivers or possibly even being hit by a distracted motorist for the sake of a baby bird who, for all she knew, could have been dead. But she didn't let that deter her from trying to save the injured animal.

In the woman's act of devotion and determination I saw a beautiful picture of the ultimate rescue mission carried out by my own Savior, Jesus Christ. From His heavenly throne I must have looked as fragile and helpless as that little bird, trapped under a weight of sin so great it could never be measured in pounds or tons. I was as good as dead, crushed by eternal death.
What man would come to my rescue? Who would stop everything and come running to my aid? Who would make my survival their mission?
The Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
The perfect Son of God looked down from heaven and saw me trapped in a state of sin that was chocking the very life out of me. Frail, fragile and helpless as I was, He looked down from the glory of Heaven, loved me and came to save me.
Christ knew I had nothing to offer Him in exchange for His redemption. I could not aid in my rescue or lend a hand in my salvation. Without a spotless Savior I was doomed. Without deliverance I was destined for eternal death.
But Jesus, full of grace and unmerited mercy, stepped down from glory to sacrifice everything and save a trapped wretch, like me. He came down from Heaven to the lowest place on earth sin order to reach me and rescue me from sin's entrapment.

Hallelujah what a Savior who came to save a helpless birdie like me! 
Once trapped, now free. 
Once doomed but now safe for eternity!

Warning: reader discretion advised!

WARNING: Reader discretion advised!
The following post comes with a "heads up" of sorts. The words that you are about to read might disturb you, trouble you, worry you and cause you alarm. You may be tempted to have doubts about the state of my physical being and question my sanity. But by the conclusion of this post I hope you will know one thing for sure: God is in complete control.

So it's time for brutal honesty. To put it bluntly, my body is utterly ravaged. This isn't a statement of opinion. This is matter of fact according to Body Mass Index calculations which bring me in at a "very severely underweight" reading of 12.3.
See why I warned you this might disturb and trouble some of you? I can't fault a single reader for being alarmed. In the opinion of the medically-minded I should be seeking admission at a hospital and be hooked up to an IV drip. At least I should be on bed rest at home but long-time Pippy Love readers will know I'm not one to let weight stop me from living. True that weight has changed my life and vitality but I've always pushed on to find a way to remain active and moving even while my weight has plummeted.
Low weight has been a hallmark of my illness from the very beginning but I'll admit I didn't anticipate to hit new weight lows on this Lyme journey. I thought I had already hit bottom but, obviously, I thought wrong. Turns out I didn't know how "low" I could go. When it comes to the weight limbo, I'm learning I can go low - super low. Despite my best efforts to halt the downward weight spiral, I have been unable to escape the latest reality staring at me from the scale's display screen: sixty-seven pounds.

This is about the time in the post where I anticipate reader's jaws will drop and soon demands for my hospitalization will  follow. I understand the concern and can't fault anyone for worrying but I must respectively decline any such suggestions for medical intervention. I also must heartily decline any recommendations to lay down in despair or give up in hope.
Although the numbers on the scale are lower than ever and my body fragile and weak, my soul is strong with the Spirit of God, filling me with joyful stamina to keep pressing on. As the pounds have flowed off my body, the faith and hope of Christ have been ever increasing in my heart. God has faithfully been infusing me with the power of assurance in His sustaining hand that defies all human logic or explanation.
Instead of being defeated and wrought with doom at the sight of the scale, God has been renewing me with eager anticipation for the healing that is to come. As I look ahead I see a remarkable work of transformation just around the corner. God has a new body designed and ready to be revealed in my flesh and bones for the good and glory of His eternal name.
Sickness and illness has ravaged my body but God has never let me go. He has preserved me body and soul so that, in His time and by His regenerative hand, He can bring me back to full health. By the redemptive blood of Christ who conquered death itself I am being upheld and preserved so that my recovery can give testimony to His power and will to heal. The lower the weight, the greater the miracle of restoration and all the more glory to God and God alone. 

Today, at this very moment, I am weaker than I have ever been but only in my body. In my soul God has been strengthening me with His eternal power and resiliency and He's not done yet - not with my heart and not with my body. I have utter and complete assurance that underway right here and right now in this little body of mine is a work of glorious and complete healing. By the gracious hand of The Lord God, my Great Physician, Savior and King this body is being made brand new and, soon very soon, will be full of more health than ever before.

Final Destination...Final Salvation

Most mornings I can't recall much about my dreams. They usually end up being some hazy fog of faces with no name; just a twisted story with no plot. But this morning was different. This morning I awoke with a dream fully formed and executed in my mind. Every detail was fresh, down to the feelings I'd had and the clear blue sky I'd seen during the vision that came to me as I slept.

This particular dream played out like a real-life drama. I was sitting in the driver's seat of my car, the very same black SUV I drive now. I was the first car stopped at the red light of a familiar intersection just a mile from home. The opposing traffic received their go-ahead first. I waited as cars whizzed past me to my left, foot poised to hit the gas as soon as my eyes saw the light up ahead turn green.
But I never got to see that light change colors. Before the opposing traffic's light turned red a deep metallic blue Silverado Chevy truck came barreling through the intersection in my direction. The man behind the wheel was traveling at a quick clip with a trailer attached to the back hatch. I watched helplessly as the truck swayed back and forth, crossed the center line and veered to the left, out of his lane and into my own.
Headed straight for the hood of my car I watched with no where to go as the truck got closer and closer. I can still see the emblem on the truck's hood as it grew larger and larger.
In those brief seconds I came into contact with an inescapable reality: impact.
As clear as can be, five words formed on my lips and filled those final seconds: "Alright God, lets do this."
Those final words were a final surrender. In the very last seconds, with five thousand pounds of metal bearing down upon me, five words declared a loud my declaration of faith, absolute assurance and unshakable trust in God and His sovereignty.
And then it hit.
The truck hood met with mine and threw my car backwards and to the left, passing over the opposing lanes of traffic and down a small hill. I could see glass shattering into a million pieces. I could feel the weight of my body flying straight up before the force of impact pushed my vehicle backwards. As my SUV went sliding down the hill I felt my back slam into the lumbar of my driver's seat and saw the air bag release into my chest. 
It should have hurt. I should have been aware of the blood covering me and the glass piercing me. But that's not what happened. At least that's not what I recall from the dream. In the cabin of my car, as it went careening down the hill to land in the empty parking lot below, a much different experience unfolded. My final salvation.
At that moment in my dream my body was ultimately destroyed. I died. The incredible force of the truck's impact was so tragic. My fragile body couldn't withstand the blow. Yet I didn't eel a thing. Not a single moment of pain.
As my car went air born, so did my soul. It was as if my spirit was lifted up and out of my body so that I could experience the accident and watch it unfold without enduring a moment of suffering, agony or pain. I could see the tragic earthly image but I couldn't feel it.

At that moment my salvation was made final. Transcended above the scene of my departure I experienced the glorious salvation of my soul. The physical world faded away without so much as a twinge of discomfort. I was carried away on a bed of peace and serenity as my spirit passed over into another world, the everlasting world. With a gentle, soft and loving hand I was transported out of my crushed car and through the golden gates of eternal life.
And then I woke up.
That was it. Impact and then, puff, salvation. It was painless. It wasn't even like pulling off a band-aid where the sting lasts for a moment. There was no pain in death. No sting at all. At the moment that my body met its final blow, all I experienced was the perfect peace of salvation and the eternal glory of Heaven.
When I awoke with the dream fully formed and fresh in my mind I noticed that I had a broad smile across my face. I had just been given a precious glimpse of eternal life, a peak into the magnificent promise of my soul's salvation.

I don't know if my dream will ever come to pass. I certainly am not here to make such a bold claim but I am here to declare that I am not afraid no matter how my final impact comes to pass. If it be in a car accident or after a long struggle with a devastating disease, I have no fear because no matter what end I meet here on earth I know it is just that; only earth's ending. When my body here breaths its last I will be breathing my first gasp of heavenly air. As my body gives out my soul will already be rejoicing in eternal glory.
From my dream I was given a glimpse of the life that lives on. It is the spiritual life that matters. Every earthly life will die and every body will fail. Some will succumb to an illness, others will be snuffed out in a tragedy. No matter what the cause, when the final impact hits the body's condition won't matter. Pain won't matter. Organs won't matter. Ability or disability. Ill or full of health. None of it will matter anymore.
All that will last is the soul. All that will matter is salvation.

Dear Reader my question for you tonight is what would happen to your soul in the cabin of your car if it all came to a final blow today? If this dream of mine became your reality, where would your salvation rest? On whose wings would you be lifted out of the destruction and saved from eternal peril?
I urge you, Friend, not to spend another moment behind the wheel of your car, or the wheel of your life, without the assurance of salvation. With Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior you can know how your story ends. Tonight, right here in this moment, you can have the assurance of eternal life and eternity in Heaven.

Meet Milton

Recently in the evening, and even some afternoons, an welcomed visitor has been dropping by my family's house. He's small, brown and fuzzy. Plus he's quick as a whip. The unwelcome visitor, more appropriately classified as an intruder, is none other than Milton. At least that's what I've named the ordinary house mouse that has decided that my home's living space would be a cozy place to spend his evenings.
Milton has good taste. My family's home is cozy. Cozier when a mouse isn't darting across the carpet and hiding underneath TV cabinets, which is precisely what Milton was up to last night.
Molly spotted Milton first and she went nuts. Her reaction was silent at first. As Milton went speeding from one corner of the kitchen to another he caught Molly's attention. She popped up from her relaxed position on the ground and took to all fours on high alert.
It didn't take but a moment for the rest of the family to catch up. Milton must be in the house.
Molly ran towards the right corner of the cabinet, precisely the place where she had spotted Milton but that sneaky mouse must have seen Molly coming. At precisely the right moment Milton darted out from the back, left corner of the cabinet and went speeding across the carpet, in the direction of a short set of steps leading into the living room.
Molly took off running but she was no match for Milton. Before she could even get a paw near the crafty mouse, Milton was under the largest piece of furniture in the whole room which also happens to be the one with the worst doggie access. The TV cabinet proved to be Milton's safest hiding place and Molly's defeat.
Since Molly couldn't reach the mouse she proceeded to sit by the cabinet and stare at it, willing the visitor to come out and play. Three hours later, when that hadn't worked, she started barking at the cabinet. If Milton wouldn't come gently then maybe "yelling" at him would work.
Maybe mice have terrible hearing or maybe Milton actually enjoyed teasing Molly. Either way, to Molly's great displeasure, Milton never reappeared. And, to the great displeasure of everyone else in the house (including Pippy), Molly wouldn't stop barking.
Finally enough was enough. Milton wouldn't come willingly. Molly wouldn't stop barking. This situation required human intervention. With an elaborate, and someone comical, scheme, Mom decided that she could create a blockade around the cabinet with one exit route leading straight out a nearby door. Using chairs, books, brooms and upended tables, Mom put her plan into action.
"Okay, now watch down at that end and I'll move this broom around down at this end. Milton will have no where to go but that way and straight out the door."
 Fool proof, right?
Wrong. For half an hour Mom tried to perfect her strategy and maneuver the broom in different ways. She utilized the aid of a spray bottle full of water. No dice and no Milton. Although through the open door a number of mosquito did make their way in, our mysterious mouse visitor never did materialize again.
The evening's mousey escapades ended with a "To be continued..." Milton was never spotted again and eventually Molly's alert status returned to normal. Troubling as it may be, we may never know how Milton sneaked in. We certainly don't know how, or if, he sneaked out.
Heaven knows I'm not thrilled with the addition of an evening intruder to the nightly sequence of events but when it comes to rodents Milton isn't too threatening. He's kind of cute and the way he scurries is too funny to be all that upsetting. I can put up with Milton. I can even find humor in Milton. What I can't put up with, the intruder I can't tolerate, is another more destructive and far more troubling unwelcome visitor. 
Worry.
Worry is a sneaky, crafty, pesky intruder that does more damage than a whole colony of mice ever could. When worry gains access into the house of my heart its presence is undeniable. It doesn't even try to hide. Worry comes right out in the open and taunts me. Worry scurries across my spirit, snatching up my peace and rest. From the dark corners of my heart worry resides, refusing to come out and release my concerns. Worry takes pleasure in stealing my serenity and holding in hostage.
Worry, much like Milton, doesn't go willingly. Barking at worry won't make it go away and staring it down doesn't seem to defeat it. I've tried my own tactics and devised my own schemes to push worry out the door but it never works. Worry always outsmarts me.
There is only one solution to worry, only one extermination method that is fail-proof. Only One trap that worry can't outsmart.
The Truth of God.
When worry sneaks in and steals away my comfort and rest, God's Word provides the trap that captures the uninvited guest. Once in the grips of truth, worry's most cunning tricks are powerless. From the very darkest corners of my heart, the unreachable places, God takes hold of worry and sends it right out the door. In the light of God's Word, worry doesn't stand a chance.
What's more is that God doesn't just remove worry, He patches up the places of my heart that were prone to letting the intruder in. God sees my vulnerable places, the gaps in my faith that need mending and the broken spaces that need repaired. With more precision and far better results than the carpenter who tried to find the secret entrance employed by Milton, God cuts off the entry ways of worry. He steps in with peace and faith that block worry and deny it access.  
God not only casts worry out. He keeps worry out.

In my family's home Milton is still having his way and making his visits but in the home that God has made in my heart my unwanted intruder isn't having its way. God's truth found that intruder in an instant and cast him out in a hurry and it didn't take a single bark or upended chair. By the power of God's Word and His Holy Spirit He sent my worry fleeing for the door.