Browsing Tag

Sin

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

That Snake on the Porch

Posted on March 25, 2026

This month, the diggers are studying God’s great sorrow over sin; its tragedy, its destructive power, and its ugly tempter. I ran across this snake tale from several years ago. Still hoping I’ll ever be aware that the scariest snake is always on my porch trying to get right on into my house.

We live in the country. THIS week…A fat lizard greeting me inside my kitchen gate each time I come home, a fox and her three babies in the backyard, two chimney bird-nest smoke-outs, two mice caught in traps and an armadillo on Gurley Pike that I tried to miss, but just could not. (Those awkward things just cannot get out of the way, but I still will always have a little soft spot for them because of Rafaella Gabriela and Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla and Albert Andreas Armadillo, who found an aardvark in Schoolhouse Rocks!) When I picked up my mop wringer on my screened-in porch to find a suh-suh-snake, I’d just about reached my critter-quota for this week! (I’m only terrified of two kinds of snakes—dead ones and live ones.) This is the porch that’s just off both my dining room and my bedroom. The snake was lying just outside the door that I’ve left open on many a spring and autumn night. If I live in this house till my dying day, I will never sleep with that door open again—EVER! 

My faithful husband, who already had a lunch appointment, cancelled it and drove the thirty minutes home to decapitate and then discard the still-moving beast. 

I cannot figure out why I am so afraid of even non-venomous serpents. I don’t know why I thought of him last as I fell asleep at about one a.m. last night or why he popped into my head when I first woke up and lay there staring through the glass at that porch floor that will probably not ever get mopped again; at least not this year. 

Glenn tried to figure that out yesterday over lunch. “Did you have a big traumatic snake experience when you were little?” 

“I guess not except that time I was fishing with my grandmother and that snake slithered by us on the bank.”

“What did you do?”

“I climbed up in the bed of my grandfather’s pick-up truck, along with my aged grandmother, and yelled, with all of the volume I (we) could summon, across Hollis’s lake (My grandad always fished on the other side, probably exactly for the volume reason…) for him to come around there and “save” us, which he did….But I don’t think that was really traumatic, do you?”

My husband, ever the valiant and forbearing one, overlooking my reptile trepidation (really, phobia), said “Well, I think God, maybe, placed in us an aversion to the snake. After all, it was the snake in which the devil first came to tempt.”

Now that was very kind of him to give the fright, that will haunt my dreams for several weeks now, a spiritual connotation, when, actually, I’m thinking all material…”You know, a condo downtown with a paved front yard might be better than this rambling old house in this forest,” … “A big and sealed screen door might be good beside our bed, here, even though the porch is already screened in,” … “ And could we caulk those porch floorboards?” 

But, really…I hope I can be as afraid of the Genesis 3 snake as I was (am) of that one Glenn killed out on the porch. I know Jesus already crushed his head at Calvary (Genesis 3:15), taking away his power over my purchased soul. But still…Jesus wants me to fear him. The serpent is still moving around in our world today (I Peter 5:8) . May I have a healthy fear of the snake that can kill both body and soul in hell (Matthew 10:28). May I call for reinforcements from the One who is stronger than I, when I find myself spiritually paralyzed by that serpent. And may I keep the door closed between me and that snake.  I don’t want to be asleep while that crafty (Gen 3:1) and venomous snake slithers into my house. 

 

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

From the Archives: I Croaked. The Frog Died.

Posted on February 5, 2026

Written in 2016, this one popped up as I was searching for something tonight. I was thinking about all this  back when I had my dad, my Baby Ezra, a really bad cough, wasps in my bathroom, a killer schedule (still got that!) and a frog in my bedroom. Now I’m thinking about it again. Sometimes I wish I could go back for a day…but not the cough. =)

 

This week has had its challenges. The little things can really make a good week go south, and several at once can challenge your Christianity. Returning home early from a gospel meeting in Jackson, Tennessee, I found sugar ants in the kitchen that just showed up out of nowhere, following my bread starter from room to room even if I utterly and completely cleaned that jar in between moves. Wasps are suddenly everywhere in the bathroom. Come to find out, a tree limb has fallen on the roof, piercing it asunder and the attic above the bathroom is wet and a habitat for wasps and dirt daubers and now they can come right through the ceiling which is also now pierced. It was the bathroom beside the baby’s crib and the baby and his mother were already settled in for the night.

I came home early, arriving here on Sunday night about 12:30 am, because I was pretty sick. You’ve been this kind of sick…you know, where you can’t speak above a whisper, but your cough is deafening and unrelenting. My daughter Hannah and Baby Ezra left me on Monday afternoon and I gargled and sipped and oiled and rubbed and just kept right on coughing that  rib-splitting, sleep-stealing cough.  Because I am speaking Saturday, I, at last, gave in and went to the doctor yesterday. She was very thorough. Three shots in the bottom, antibiotics and prescription cough syrup, antihistamines, more gargling and sipping and strict orders for bed rest till it’s time to leave for Georgia. She even demanded that I have a driver for this trip and that I drink hot tea all the way there and even while up speaking. That’s the kind of week.

The computer that had all of my data on it, including all the stuff I need for this weekend, officially died this week. Fifteen huh-huh-hundred dollars was the final bill for that bottle of accidentally and partially frozen flavored water that spewed  out in that hotel room last week, and I am still just hoping optimistically that I retrieve the data in time for this weekend. Of course, all of that data retrieval doesn’t happen while you’re in bed, for sure. It happens with multiple trips to the repair shop and the Apple store.

Then my husband came home last night. He, too arrived about 12:30 am. That was kind of good, because he was so sleepy that he was sleeping right through those long and loud coughing jags. During one of those jags, around 3 am, I got up and stole around loudly for a bit and, just as I was right beside Glenn’s head, something slimy and wet went KUH-runch under my right foot. I could not help it. I screamed like a banshee. It was dark, but I could see something writhing in the floor. My husband just opened his big brown eyes, sat upright and calmly said, “Do not do this when I am older than I am right at this moment. I believe I will have a heart attack.”

Lights came on.

“It’s a frog! I crushed a frog!” I coughed out the words. The frog lost its croak in the 3 am flush, but, alas, I still have mine.

This morning, my husband woke up and said, “I had the strangest dream. You were around here on my side of the bed and you screamed and there was a frog, of all things, right here in the floor.”

I guess I will just let him go on thinking that was a dream. He’s going to have enough reality when he says good morning to the roof and the wasps and the rotten ceiling…and the fifteen huh-huh-hundred dollar water spill.

Okay, so there is one quick spiritual application I’d like to make. Of course, the health issue is the only one here that really matters, in the big scheme of things. All of the other problems are first world problems. We are rich enough to have indoor bathrooms, dismay over sugar ants means we have sweet things to eat, etc…. But the worst thing about this week is that I shared my disease with my daughter, who as a nursing mom can’t take those antibiotics that I am taking, and now, she has shared it with Baby Ezra. Hannah is sick because I was sick. Ezra is sick because Hannah was sick. I should have been more protective, in the first place. I exposed them.

Now, I am sad about that. But I think about sin a lot—the great disease for which there is but one balm; the disease which, without the cure, brings us down for all of eternity. How tragic it is when parents are not protective of their children with regard to sin. Sometimes I witness parents literally exposing their children to the disease. Oh, I know that each adult person is responsible for his or her own sin (Ezekial 18:20), but still, parents can immunize against the disease or they can expose. I know parents who daily turn on the filth of the devil on television for their young children to view. They are exposing. I know moms who lose their tempers and yell at their husbands in front of their children. They are exposing. I know families who go on vacation and fail to worship with the saints while traveling. They are exposing. I know children who have found Dad’s alcohol in the cabinet and tried it. Dad has exposed.

It’s sad to expose our kids to the flu, to strep throat, or even to the common cold. But it is tragic—eternally and irrevocably devastating—to think we would expose our kids to the disease that will take their souls for all of eternity. Oh, the final choice will be theirs, but early exposure at the hands of parents is something almost too painful to contemplate.

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

From the Archives: Playing in the Zone

Posted on November 14, 2024

One evening recently I was visiting and enjoying sweet fellowship on the lawn of a church building in our area. It was almost dusk and cars were passing regularly on the highway several  feet away.  I had my grandson, Ezra, who is two years old with me that night, and he was having a good time running on the sidewalk, climbing the stairs and playing in the bushes. I noticed a frantic sister go and catch him when he neared the sidewalk that paralleled the highway. “Come back! Don’t go near the road,” she said as she ran to make sure he didn’t go in the street. I appreciated her care for Ezra.

That sister probably thought I was a negligent grandmother, letting Ezra play in that yard adjacent to the street. I appreciated her concern. The truth was that while, of course, I wanted Ezra to stay far from the highway, I really didn’t think he would go past that sidewalk. Earlier that day, I had experienced a very hard time convincing Ezra that it was okay for him to ride his scooter on our asphalt driveway…because he thought our driveway was a “woad”. Ezra doesn’t go near the street because his parents have trained him to keep a certain distance between himself and the road. 

We parents and grandparents do this. We give our children boundaries that keep them from danger. They know not only to keep out of the road, but to keep a prohibited space between themselves and the street. They know not to touch the fire, but also to stay back from it. Not to jump off the cliff, but also to stay back from its edge. We do not sit our young children down in front of a mixture of M&Ms and deadly drugs and let them pick out the M&Ms to eat. 

But do we do this spiritually? We fail to guard the perimeter of sin—the area that may still be out of the world, but is so close to its dangers that our children let their guards down. It’s the perimeter…the area all around the danger. It’s the places where the world backs right up to the church. It’s that area where the “ pleasure of sin” (Hebrews 11:25 ), allures the senses of our children but its stench can’t quite reach their noses. While we do not want our children to stop attending worship, do we give them our permission to miss it for a very hard test or a very “important” ballgame? (The root word “game” is operative. It’s a game.) We do not want our teens to commit fornication, but we let them “play” in the zone of temptation. We let them watch movies that glorify it. We let them go to dances that promote lust. We let them read books that normalize it and we let them dress immodestly to attract the attention of those of the opposite sex. We let them play very close to that street. We don’t want them to grow up to be gambling addicts, but, of course, we would never deny them the opportunity to participate in the raffle to raise money for their school. (One day the whole state lottery will be about “money for education”.) Do we not see the spiritual danger of allowing our kids to be casual around the perimeter of the world? …Of getting too close to the fire, too near to the street, or of letting them choose the M&Ms before they can distinguish the difference?

Every one of us has the roaring lion (I Peter 5:8) seeking and we may even have the devil sifting (Luke 22:31). His best efforts are expended on the young. His best chance to get your kids is around the edge of your spirituality. Oh that we, as parents, would be as diligent about those dangers as we are about the ones that can only harm our children in this lifetime. The devil’s street traffic can make your kids die eternally. Let’s make spiritual safety zones that make it safer for them. It’s just easier to keep them far from that street while they are young than to watch them venture out when we no longer get to set the perameters for them. 

Let’s guard the spiritual perimeters.

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Thanksgiving: When you say grace, say this!

Posted on November 22, 2023

It’s Thanksgiving week as you read. I hope it is the beginning of a holiday season that will bless your heart with warm memories for many years. For some, though, the holidays will bring painful memories of abuse or loss of a loved one or long days of mental torture or longer nights of physical pain. Even with the challenges that come to all people in a fallen world, the church of God, the redeemed, have constant cause for joy and thanksgiving. We are gathered around his banquet table every day of every year as we walk in His light.

Psalm 103 is a great place to go on this Thanksgiving week to be reminded of the depth of the Lord’s mercies on His spiritual Israel. Here is David’s list of the blessings, from that chapter, showered by the Father on the Old Testament nation. How many of these are just as real to the church, the people of God, today? I challenge you to go down this list and check off the ones that are applicable to you, personally. How many of these are very real and tangible in your own life in 2023? As I made this list, I realized, at once, the inconceivable worth of His blessings and my own worthlessness. There is some realm or area of my life and of His mercies in which I can check off each one! Here’s the list:

  • Forgiveness of iniquities
  • Healing of diseases
  • Redemption from destruction
  • A crown of lovingkindness and mercy
  • A mouth satisfied with good things
  • Renewed youth
  • Execution of judgement for oppressed
  • Ways made know to Moses
  • Acts made known to Israel
  • Mercy
  • Grace
  • Slowness to anger
  • Dealing NOT according to sins
  • Removal far from transgressions
  • Pity like a Father
  • Remembrance that we are dust
  • Everlasting mercy
  • Righteousness to grandchildren
  • A prepared throne
  • A kingdom that rules
  • Angels that excel in strength

I love to contemplate every one of these. But the one I love the most is that He deals not with people (me) according to their sins. There are no words for the gratitude that swells in me when I understand that he will not treat me as I deserve to be treated. He will look on me and not see sin in its blackness. He will reach to me and not touch the filth of sin. He will listen to me and never hear the wretched voice of sin that anguishes in my pleas. He will savor the sweet smell of my worship and not smell the stench of guilt. Surely if David could extol His mercies and claim his deliverance in the days of animal sacrifices, how much more can I bask in the blessings of forgiveness; living, as His child in the shadow of the cross! “Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name” (Psalm 103:1)

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

She Thanks You for Praying…

Posted on November 20, 2023

 

Recently, those in the Digging Deep for Encouragement group have been praying for our sister, Tammie. She’s been through a very dark and difficult time in several key areas of her life. There was a loss of her home to a fire, a prolonged illness, a very traumatic situation in her extended family and one in her husband’s family, as well. She recently had five days alone in her house and I encouraged her to spend that time in prayer and the Word. I told her that I knew God could use those days for her healing, if she would use them for His glory. She writes this today, and wanted me to share with you. She is so very thankful for your prayers and covets them in the future days of restoration to what she wants to be for Him.She shares this. I know you will praise with me.

Oh sister Cindy,  

While I was by myself for 5 days God’s word has done some purging . I can say I had hit bottom. God showed me through his Word, that I had begun wandering away from the Fold.  These 3 years of working in the fall, with a friend, cleaning hunter’s houses, I thought I had been sharing my faith with her… and I thought she was going  to change her ways. Now the friendship bond of her worldly ways is cut. God, this week showed me, through the word and through our    DD studies, that I was being led astray; following her, with one foot in the door of the church and one foot out in the world. I was already searching for something when I found lots of programs on youtube and your ladies’ days speaking, too. I didn’t even turn TV on to watch unless at night when I watched gospel meetings. I mostly all day was in the word. A sweet sister called and checked on me a lot and, each time, she could tell I had been crying. Cindy, I can say I was at my begging place. I have written scriptures down and when Satan comes to my thoughts, I will quote them in prayer. Yesterday was so hard.  I finally went to worship being so weak and had no idea what Jim was preaching on. I had written a letter to the congregation asking for my forgiveness, for I had not been there for my brothers and sisters. I was a sheep that had gone astray and the crying was deep. A sister came to me and hugged me and whispered in my ear that I was bold to admit this and she said I inspired her about what true repentance is. Jim had no idea that I was putting on a fake Christian . He got choked up reading my note, so that another man stepped in.  So Jim just came to comfort me. Jim said he saw many tears yesterday. Then I went back last night and, Cindy, the singing in this congregation, to me, was so uplifting. Jim preached on the  words of the song “I am a Poor, Wayfaring Stranger.”  One of the men got up and said, “Can I speak? He did speak, and he said,  “Jim the message tonight of the song was so powerful.” Oh, this right here got me. My Jim was starting to feel that he wasn’t doing a good job there. Now let’s see how God can use me. I have never felt this peace, Cindy.

The sheep is now in the arms of the Shepherd. It’s terrible that it took me down to the bottom to open up my eyes. The truth has set me free. I love you, Cindy.

Bless Your Heart by Cindy Colley

Flashbacks.

Posted on June 12, 2023

In 1 Samuel 16, there was, at the impressive temple of Dagon, a feast of revelry and thousands of Dagon-worshipping Philistines. These blasphemous Philistines were having their moment of glory, having conquered their most evasive and strongest enemy, Samson. This was their victory chant to Dagon on that day:

“Our god has delivered into our hands our enemy,
The destroyer of our land,
And the one who multiplied our dead.”

Samson was there–once a large and cunning man of extraordinary strength and vitality; now a blind slave, working as the human ox of the enemies that he once broke like like dry sticks in his strong hands. Samson wanted revenge so badly that he could taste it. With the help of a God who used a weak and sinful man to pour our his wrath on blasphemous enemies, Samson was about to get that final revenge. And he would die in the process.

Clearly…when the roof collapsed and the walls fell at the temple of Dagon, there were regrets in Samson’s mind:

Flashbacks of his father begging him not to marry the wrong woman.

Flashbacks of foxes and jawbones.

Flashbacks of a tryst with a prostitute.

Flashbacks of his tresses being fingered in the lap of Delilah.

Flashbacks of shrieking pain when his eyes were pierced.

Flashbacks of doing the work of an animal at the hands of cruel enemies. 

Samson could not see, but somehow I think he might have been seeing more clearly than ever before. There will be a day, if you and I have minute to think, when we will have some flashbacks. We will clearly see. I know some women now, who are on the precipice of decisions that will forever negatively impact their homes, children and personal eternal destinies. I beg you to live now, so that when your temple is coming down on your head, wherever that might be– when you will waken to meet your Maker—I say, live now so that you will die without significant regret, fully prepared to meet the One who has given you strength though Christ to do all things! Let me help you if there’s some way that I can.