Welcome!

Welcome to Kids of Faith! This is an online magazine encouraging young Christians to be…well, kids (and teens) of faith. This is a publication solely for the glory of God, and we hope to cultivate a sense of God’s love and grace in your life in our devotionals and similar articles. Along with that, we also have fun stuff; including book reviews, movie reviews, a humor column, animal facts, and also a story or two per issue.  We aim to publish quarterly, and update this page every time we post new articles. Below is an index of all of the things featured in the current issue.

What’s inside:

A Final Farewell

Reflections from the Editor: Hope is Knowing

No Greater Love: Hope for the Hopeless ~ by Charity

90 Days: The Beginning ~ by Charity

Story of the Month ~ by Pip

The Slush Pile: A Thing with Feathers ~ by Pip

Shining Stars: An Interview with Cody Pellerin ~ by Ashley

Music of my Heart ~ by Ashley

Movie Review: Stone of Destiny ~ by Bluejane

Reflections: Hope Is Knowing

by Kylie

I’ve struggled a lot with what to write for this post. Hope is a hard concept to grasp. And, well… I have chronic pain, accompanied by mood swings and the natural hormonal imbalances that a teenager goes through. So it’s hard for me to write about hope, when most days, I don’t “feel” it.

But then I realized, hope isn’t about feelings. It’s a knowing. Hope is knowing that everything is going to be okay.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings. For all I know, I could feel terrible and be in tons of pain. But I know something that the world doesn’t.

My Jesus has been to tomorrow before I even get there. Time is irrelevant to Him. And He has a plan for my life.

I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a chronic pain condition, last year. I was angry with God. Why would he allow me such pain, such suffering? Why?

It wasn’t until I got on my knees that he gave me this verse.

“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.  Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.  You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.” -Jeremiah 29:11-14

I’d heard this verse so many times before. But suddenly it got new meaning. New life.

And that gave me new meaning and new life as well.

I once heard a quote that said, “Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

I think that’s what hope’s about as well.

Hope is not about what I feel. It’s about knowing that things will improve. It’s knowing that my God is God over the storm.

He’s God in your life and mine. And to me, that gives me hope.

“I don’t need a telescope to see that there’s hope, and that makes me feel brave.”

90 Days: The Beginning

The Beginning

“Morgan Elisabeth Jacobs! Get down here and eat something! Your flight leaves in three hours!”

I groaned and turned up the volume on my iPod. I had to leave for the airport in an hour. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed. My mother had already forced me up to get dressed and finish packing. But I was going on a hunger strike. I was going to be spending 90 out of 98 days of the summer between sophomore and junior years in Charlotte, North Carolina with my Uncle Steve. I was abandoning sunny Huntington Beach, California, all my friends and any chance I had of landing a recording contract to go somewhere I didn’t even want to go.

My original plan had been to hang around LA, join my best friend, Leigh on her week-long trip to the Big Apple and record a demo CD, but my plans were shot down when my parents decided to send me and my brother to be with family. I guess I could’ve been happy that I wasn’t going to Wisconsin to be with Aunt Bess and Uncle John and their holy terror daughter, Abigail. At least there was a beach where I was headed. But it was still not what I had planned and I was still protesting.

Half an hour later though I decided I should get something to eat before the five-hour plane trip. I’d learned from experience that airplane food has a similar texture to cardboard and a similar taste to chalk. I chose to play it safe. I cranked the volume even louder so I wouldn’t have to listen to my family talk, but the look my mom gave me when I reached the bottom of the stairs said, “Out with the ear buds or else . . .” I didn’t need to know what “Or else . . .” meant. I reluctantly obeyed.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” My brother Gabe said as he passed me to the kitchen.

I shot him down with one look. Gabe was a year and a half older than me and he knew well enough when to bug off. This was one of those times.

“Are you going to eat?” Mom asked.

“No!” I plopped down into a chair and rested my head on the table. I was using this last day before departure to exaggerate the fact that I did not want to spend my summer on the east coast with and uncle I’d only met twice.

Aside from not eating, I’d also dressed for the occasion. I wore black denim shorts and black Converse boots. A black “I (heart) LA” shirt and a pair of black fingerless gloves finished off the beginning-of-the-worst-summer-of-my-life look I’d been shooting for. I’d planned on dying my auburn hair black and cutting it all off but I figured that would make them want to send me away even more.

My dad motioned for me to lift my head up from the table and I slowly did. “The silent protest is not going to change our minds, Morg. You’re going to Charlotte to spend the summer with your Uncle Steve. Period.”
I sighed dramatically and reached for an apple. “I guess I will eat then. It’s the last meal before fried crickets and mystery meat stew.”

Mom glared at me and I shut my mouth. I quietly ate the apple before Dad decided I should go pack up my stuff into the car. I groaned again and stomped up the stairs. I was probably over-exaggerating my point a little bit but I didn’t care. I grabbed my black and lime-green suitcase off my bed and my messenger bag off my desk chair. I’d tried to convince my parents to let me bring my guitar with me. That way I’d have something to do in North Carolina but my parents complained about not wanting to pay any more for shipping and that – they didn’t need to tell me – was that.

I sighed one final time before dragging my stuff downstairs and climbing into the car. I figured I’d make my point once more on the way to the airport. I stared out the window and spoke dreamily, “Goodbye, California. Rest in peace, summer 2011. Say hello to my only chance of becoming a recording artist in the afterlife.”

My dad gave me a look in the rearview mirror which I took as my cue to stop talking. I did. But my brain kept on thinking. We passed all the familiar landmarks; my favorite diner; Leigh’s house; the beach. The “overdramatic sigh” was becoming a very important part of my life.

We showed up at LAX promptly at nine, I checked my bag and did all the airport stuff. Finally my plane started boarding and I said my goodbyes. I sat in the window seat next to a guy about my age who said his name was Conner. I introduced myself but I was in no mood for talking. I was doomed to spend my summer with someone I didn’t want to, in a place I didn’t want to, doing things I didn’t want to. The plane took off a few minutes later and I slouched back in my seat.

This was going to be a long 90 days.

[read more about Charity]

The Slush Pile: A Thing With Feathers

The Slush Pile: A Thing With Feathers

By Pip

–

  Before I delve headfirst into this new column, allow me a small disclaimer. A slush pile is a term utilized by publishers for the envelopes upon envelopes of manuscripts they receive from hopeful authors who don’t realize how overcrowded the publishing industry is with other like-minded hopeful authors! Manuscripts that are unfortunate enough to be tossed into the slush pile for alleged future inspection rarely make it to the editor’s desk, let alone the Barnes & Nobles bookshelves. The purpose of this column is to make sure Kids of Faith has no slush pile, to cover the subjects that would otherwise be missing from the issue. My prayer for every installment in this column is that my peevish offering of words might make somebody think about a topic in a fresh way. I also pray that I scare no one off, but you and I can keep that under our hats, hmm?

Hope is a slippery thing to put one’s finger on; we can hope for a new car, hope that the thunderstorm doesn’t zap our light bulbs while we’re in the middle of reading an especially exciting chapter (I know the feeling well), or hope that California doesn’t slide off the coast into the sea. Hope is elusive; some days we wake up in the middle of a personal trial, prod our brains for the dark oppression of hopelessness, and find ourselves still lacking the one essential ingredient to satisfaction in the Lord. Hope is the seasoning sprinkled into the feast that God has laid for us. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.” (Psalm 23:5)

In a world that is shuddering with inhibitions over the state of public education, the war in the Middle East, and the corruption of individuals coming into office or running from the law to continue their immoral rampage, hope is the factor that solves our equation. Or, as Emily Dickinson famously worded, hope is the thing with feathers (“Hope is the thing with feathers/that perches in the soul…”) Dickinson was a wise woman for having described hope so aptly because not only can hope fly away and hypothetically bring us along, moving our weary souls to a high place of rest where taking the next step suddenly seems easier to bear, but it builds nests in the crevices and crannies of experience that enables us to enrich our lives. Hope is the anchor that holds us to certain ideals, specific views, and refreshing pastimes, giving us something familiar that we can run to when the uncertainty of the forking road confuses us beyond sanity and rationality.

Hope is the way God pats us on the back after we fall in battle, pulling us back up and gently pushing us back into the maelstrom. “…because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’ ” (Romans 8:14-15)
Because we have hope, because we possess the notion of a higher order, we know that it’s possible to climb out of our selfish holes and watch our plodding feet press imprints on the black, sucking soil. God nowhere promises in the Bible, His love letter to us, that our lives serving Him will be easy. “For my yoke [is] easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:30)
This verse does not entail that God is going to sequester us in a closet to keep us safe; no pain, no gain, and while serving our Father is rewarding, we often fall down and bleed because we’re only humans, flawed and prone to carnality and being clueless. We want to think we’re good enough people to fight what threatens us by ourselves, and only run into God’s arms when the bully on the playground punches a bit too hard. Hope is what replenishes us when we get knocked down once more, noses bleeding and the bully chuckling sadistically, when we realize that even though we can’t tackle what imposes itself upon our lives, God can.

The kind of hope that comes with anticipating a trip to the ice cream parlor or a favorite TV show is a very special but simplistic species of hope. What God dishes out for us in our time of greatest need is much sweeter than a stuffed, drippy ice cream cone.

The times I was stripped of faith in myself were the times that God reached down and gave me the most hope because I was devoid of expectations and tired of smashed dreams and desires. Believe me, crawling before the throne of God and ripping open your fingernails against the Cross as you scrabble for worth and the arms of your Father is not easy: it’s humiliating. It’s supposed to be. By humbling ourselves and becoming fools for Christ (“We are fools for Christ’s sake, but ye are wise in Christ; we are weak, but ye are strong; ye are honourable, but we are despised.”[1 Corinthians 4:10]), we are breaking down our own selfish wills in order to let God’s presence flood us. We can’t let God root Himself in our souls until the ground is properly weeded and prepared by raking and overturning the watered-down earth. Until we go after our impeding wills tooth and nail, God cannot fully come inside of us and empower us with the overwhelming concept that hey, His strength is sufficient for allowing us to continue fighting!

There are many reasons why hope is something valuable Christians should aspire to possess, but mainly because the possession of hope means a victory against the darkness that wants to tear us apart, shove our heads underwater and laugh as we grope blindly for God’s seemingly unreachable hands. Once we stop treating our lives like soap operas, a tragic succession of one doggone thing after another, full of drama and sobbing, and admit to the darkness that our God is louder and stronger than any number of demons, then we are able to hope. It’s a fragile, vulnerable thing, to open ourselves up to more than one option. Often, being devoid of hope happens by default after a great sorrow has been placed on our shoulders; perhaps a job loss, the loss of a sibling, chronic pain or a disease that ravages the physical body, the destruction of an entire town or any piece of bad news weighs down on you too greatly, convincing you that a good God would never do this unimaginable horror, or, even more destructive, that you must have done something to deserve it. But those who are at their lowest point, standing on tiptoe to lovingly stroke rock bottom after having fallen past what they believe to be the retrieval point, are in prime positions to feel His touch the hardest. When every emotion is stretched to hypersensitivity and things simply couldn’t get worse (and then do), even the strongest Christian will feel defeated and past the reach of grace. When we are at the lowest level, we will be more willing to crawl into the shadow of the Cross to satisfy a sheer urgent curiosity after whether God could really impact us and cheer us on. “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)

This is hope. It’s what makes us drag ourselves into His lap and put our arms around His neck, whispering into His ear our secret wishes like children hoping with wide eyes that the Macy’s store Santa Claus will bring them their idolized Christmas presents. Claiming hope is not reading the newest hip devotional from the well-known author or reading the right Bible verses at the right time; there is no set formula for having it. Hope is the raw opportunity God provides for us daily to drink the bittersweet communion wine. There is nothing wrong with begging God to take this cup from us, but only if we make ourselves submit to His will being done just as Jesus did, knowing the Son of God Himself had to grab hope and pin it to the ground, trusting that He would walk from the tomb in three days’ time and blink in the pink sunlight, filling His lungs with fresh, crisp air. Hope is the act of accepting God’s promises, a dress rehearsal that lets us try on armor for the next round of battle.

What is something that you hope will happen, or hope to accomplish, in your own life? Was there ever a time when you thought you had fallen past the reach of God, only to find that He was waiting to surprise you with His nearness? If you are struggling to find hope in the face of a horrific trial, how do you think you can cleave yourself from focusing on the struggle, and begin to hope after the victory? How might you convey the concept of hope to someone who claims to have lost all of their own?

–Pip

Movie Review: Stone of Destiny

Stone of Destiny

Director: Charles Martin Smith

Rated: PG

Length: 96 minutes

___

The Stone of Destiny. A symbol. A Scottish symbol. A symbol of hope. Ian Hamilton (Charlie Cox) recognized this in 1951. As an avid Scottish nationalist he decided the Stone of Destiny needed to return to its original home. Scotland. It needed to come home and revive the hearts of the Scottish people, reminding them who they are.

“It was only a rock. A big lump of sandstone, you might pass right by it. But to us it was the symbol of our freedom,of our independence. We didn’t realize it, of course. We learned as children, how it was the Scottish stone of kings. But they took it from us. And as a nation, I suppose we’ve forgotten about it. Time does that. It was history.” -Ian Hamilton

With the help of a few friends, and one of the leading nationalists, he travels to London to take the stone. Out smarting the police and the security guards, they do what no one believed they could. They returned hope to the hearts of the Scottish people.

“You may as well go for the Crown Jewels! You’ll never get away with it!” -Bill Craig

___

A great historical film. With the perfect mix of action, romance, and humor, you won’t be bored. The costumes are amazing as well and are just one of the little things that turned this film into a masterpiece.

Although rated PG it does have some mild language. There are also several bar scenes.

An amazing movie that tells a true story. A story of a few Glaswegian students who realized talking wasn’t enough. Action needed to take place.

“On that day I heard the voice of Scotland speak as loudly as it did in 1320. As long as a hundred of us remain alive, we shall never give in to the domination of the English. We fight not for glory, not for wealth, nor honors, but only and alone for freedom, which no good man surrenders but with his life.” -Ian Hamilton

Watch the trailer here!

Music of my Heart: Only Hope Now

Hope Now by Addison Road

If everything comes down to love
Then just what am I afraid of
When I call out Your name
Something inside awakes in my soul
How quickly I forget I’m Yours

I’m not my own
I’ve been carried by You
All my life

Everything rides on hope now
Everything rides on faith somehow
When the world has broken me down
Your love sets me free

When my life is like a storm
Rising waters all I want is the shore
You say I’ll be ok
Make it through the rain
You are my shelter my from the storm

Everything rides on hope now
Everything rides on faith somehow
When the world has broken me down
Your love sets me free

I am not my own
I’ve been carried by you all my life

Everything rides on hope now
Everything rides on faith somehow
When the world has broken me down
Your love sets me free

You’ve become my hearts desires
I will sing Your praises higher
Your love sets me free
(Your love sets me free)
Your love sets me free
(Your love sets me free)
Your love sets me free

With this Kids of Faith issue being on hope, the first song that came into my mind was Hope Now by Addison Road. I love the sound of this band – and I think that this is one of my favorite songs by them. I love the line that says “when the world has broken me down, Your love sets me free.” I think that this is talking about the fact that although people in the world are going to tear us down for things – especially being Christians – we have God to look to. He’s going always be there and we’ll always have him on our side.

–

Only Hope by Switchfoot

There’s a song that’s inside of my soul
It’s the one that I’ve tried to write over and over again
I’m awake and in the infinite cold
But You sing to me over and over and over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I know You’re my only hope

You sing to me of the song of the stars
Of Your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again
When it feels like my dreams are so far
You sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again

And I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I know You’re my only hope

I give You my empathy, I’m giving You all of me
I want Your symphony singing in all that I am
At the top of my lungs I’m giving it back

And I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours, I pray to be only Yours
I know You’re my only hope

Switchfoot is one of those bands that I love their songs, but I’m not crazy about their sound. They have some amazing songs that I LOVE, but it really depends on the kind of mood I am in. But this song is one of my favorites of all time. I think it’s pretty straightforward about what it’s talking about – God and Jesus are the only hope we have in this world. No one else can save us from the world we live in and no one else can help us through the things that are going on in our lives. I can’t even think about living in my life without God in it. He is the only Hope we have in this world.

Psalm 62: 5
Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.

Psalm 71: 14
As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.

[read more about Ashley]

Shining Stars: An Exclusive Interview with Cody Pellerin

I first heard about Cody Pellerin when I started liking Stellar Kart. That actually wasn’t that long ago and sad to say, when I first started liking them, Cody had already left the band. But by watching older YouTube videos, and looking at pictures I had a hard time believing that he was actually gone. I guess you could say that it was denial seeing as he was funny and always made me laugh. I saw Stellar Kart in concert in May and was kind-of disappointed that he wasn’t on stage playing with Adam Agee, Brian Calcara and Jordan Messer.

I became a friend of his on Facebook after I had started liking Stellar Kart and recently asked for an interview with him. He answered with an ‘absolutely!’ So I went ahead and sent him my questions, things that I, and you readers, may want to know about him. It was interesting what he had to say.
I hope you enjoy this interview as much as I did!
~Ashley

–

KOF: When did you become a Christian?

CP: I became a follower of Jesus on May 8th of 2000.

KOF: What is something that inspires you?

CP: I find inspiration all around me every day. Strangely I most often find inspiration in uninspiring things. I learned many years ago that one of the best ways to be a great leader is to watch failures, and not repeat their actions. I often find moments of extreme heartache and pain and from there find something that I want to change and not let happen again. I also find great inspiration in the natural miracles of our world; the ocean, the sunrise, the sunset, a cool breeze. One of my favorite things in the world is the ocean; being near it, in it, under it, splashed by it, if it is the ocean I love it. Also, of course, the Bible. The Bible is the only source of truth this world has. Regardless of emotions, opinions, archaeology, science, philosophy, the Bible has passed every test, every time, thousands of times, for thousands of years. Not a single man on this earth has even been able to disprove it, all research proves it.

KOF: What are some of your favorite things about God?

CP: My favorite is the simple fact that he forgives us and loves us unconditionally. If I was God I would be A LOT meaner and no one would have a chance.

KOF: What are some of your favorite Bible verses?

CP: 1st Corinthians 2:9 “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived, the life God has prepared for those who love him.”

John 14:21 “Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one that loves me, he who loves me will be loved by my father, and I too will love him and show myself to him.”

Proverbs 4:23 “Above all else guard your hearts, for it is the wellspring of life.”

Isaiah 41:10 “Do not fear for I am with you, do not anxiously look about yourself for I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, surely I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

KOF: How long have you been playing guitar?

CP: I have been playing guitar for 15 years and have been doing it professionally for 14 years.

KOF: What are some of your favorite songs to play onstage?

CP: With Stellar Kart, my favorite songs were Spending Time, Life Is Good, Shine Like the Stars, and Me And Jesus.

With Our Hearts Hero, my favorites are You Are (Everything I Live For), Keep Breathing In (which both will be on the new album we are making), and Tomorrow.

KOF: What is your favorite moment while playing onstage?

CP: When Stellar Kart headlined the EO Youth Day in Arnhem Holland in front of 50,000 people in a sold out soccer stadium (This is my profile picture on Facebook).

KOF: Is there something you’ve always wanted to do but have never done it? If so, what?

CP: WOW! WOW! WOW! I want to do more than one human life could ever do. I want to run for Political office and change the deadly path our country is going down. I want to start and pastor a church. I want to write books and books and books. I want to speak to millions of people. I want to lead Hollywood CA to Jesus and watch our country change. I would love to make a movie.

KOF: What is something people may not know about you?

CP: Hhhhhhuuuuummmmmmmm……I love both chaos and harmony. I love to be in loud places with all my friends, yet still love to be all alone miles from the closest other person. Oh…and I am also currently recording Beach Jazz record

KOF: You are from Phoenix but now live in TN. Do you ever want to move back?

CP: I thought about moving back to Phoenix a lot when I first moved to Nash, but that was when I didn’t trust the Lord fully. I want to go back because it was comfortable and familiar. Nashville has become my home now and I love it. The only way (Lord willing) I would leave Nashville now would be to move to Kona Hawaii so I could surf Pinetrees Beach all day.

KOF: Do you stay in touch with the guys from Stellar Kart?

CP: When I left Stellar Kart I was completely fried from touring, touring, touring. I had to get away from everything that was my life, which unfortunately included my S.K. boys. However, I have been bumping into Adam and Brian a lot lately which has been really, really nice. I really miss them….a lot.

KOF: Do you have any encouraging words for the teens who read this magazine?

CP: Never stop fighting, never give up, never give in, never settle, and never buy the lie that Jesus isn’t God and that God isn’t real. In this life we will have great trouble, in fact God’s word promises that. However, the trouble is where life is found and starts. The moment you start to follow Jesus the battle officially begins, not the other way around. Have faith, be prepared, and always press forward.

–

I would like to thank Cody Pellerin for being so willing to do an interview with me, taking the time to fill out the questions, and giving us these encouraging words!

Good luck on everything you’re doing with Our Heart’s Hero, Cody! I can’t wait to see the album – and be able to have you touring with another band again!

You can check Cody out at:
www.ourheartshero.com
www.codypellerin.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/codytheshredder

[read more about Ashley]

Story of the Month – by Pip

by Pip

The little girl’s small fingers were sweating inside her daddy’s thin, callused handas they walked down the long corridor towards her own bedroom. The girl tugged restively at her princess-print nightgown, her green eyes sparkling like recently-washed grapes, still dancing with the excitement of the large cup of cocoa now reduced to an evasive taste smeared across her tongue. She giggled to herself as she thought of those soggy marshmallows bobbing up and down in the pithy cocoa and the warmth of being snuggled up against Mommy’s worn T-shirt, patting the baby still growing inside her mother’s distended stomach. It was an excitement she woke up to every day, rubbing her small round eyes clean of sleep and bouncing out of bed to check if the baby had come yet. Daddy said it would still be a couple months but time did not exist in her fairy world where bees did not sting and nobody cried if they fell down, because the ground was made of pink fluff.

The moon came weakly through the homemade curtains hanging over the windows, the beams pale and thin like water through a coffee filter, and speckled the linoleum floor where the little girl could see streaks of tennis shoes from when she and her friends had been playing cowgirls and Indians earlier. Daddy had been so obliging that afternoon; he didn’t mind when they had tied him up and put Duct tape across his mouth and all worked to shove his tall frame beneath her small bed. The girl’s fingers tightened around the hard reassurance of her father’s bony knuckles; she could tell something was bothering him and it made her fitful.

“You need to calm down,” Daddy whispered into her ear as she was swept off her feet and braced against his warm shoulder. The girl pressed her snub nose into the seam of his plaid shirt, stroking stitches pulled loose from hugs around the neck, and breathed in a large whiff of Old Spice. She peeped above her father’s shoulder as the moonlight in the windows faded and she was carried into her own dark bedroom, her eyes getting stung with the soft throb of a night light pushing its feeble glow through a dying bulb. She slipped off her father’s shoulder as the puffy sheets rose to meet her, and rolled around until the sheets were wrinkled across her chest. “I wan’ more…cocoa,” she giggled, taking a large breath before uttering that magic word, the word that meant the milky chocolate taste on her lips.

“You need to get to sleep,” her father’s mouth tickled on her ear, and the girl pressed her hands over her temples to stave the shuddery, funny feeling. “You can have more cocoa tomorrow with breakfast.” Daddy turned the sheets up under her chin and smoothed them around her, halving his towering body to plant a soft, bristling kiss against her face, and as she reached up to give him a sleepy hug, she felt where he hadn’t shaved that morning.

“Wha’ if I kaint sleep?” she inquired suddenly, sitting upright in bed just before the rangy silhouette of her father disappeared into the dull moonlight glow living in the corridor. Daddy stopped and turned to her, his features barely discernable by the glare of her small night light plugged into the wall. “Try counting sheep or praying,” Daddy said after a moment of pretending to think.

“Wha’ if I kaint sleep then?” his daughter answered, tugging the sheets up around her sticky chin. Daddy saw a smear of chocolate around her mouth like a moustache and he smiled faintly.

“Do you want me to read you stories?” he said, feigning tolerance. He caught the eager green snapple of his daughter’s big eyes and walked back to her bed, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the Bible curled into the pocket, its pages rolled and stained with spillages, the cover falling off and the spine lovingly fingered after years of use. He dragged the oak rocking chair closer to the edge of his daughter’s bed and sat down, flipping through the Bible until he found the story of David and Goliath.

The little girl shivered with delight at the familiar words of her favorite Bible story, rolling into the bedspread once more until her nose tingled with the odor of stale lavender and detergent, eyelids drooping gradually as her father’s deep voice rumbled the taunting giant, squeaked David’s dare, whispered the choosing of the smooth pebbles. Right before Goliath was conked in the head, her father stopped, knowing she disliked that ‘vi-ohlint pawt’ and looked up from the small print on the onion skin-thin page. His daughter’s face was half obscured by the pillowcase, her hands folded beneath one rosy cheek, mouth slack as she dragged in long, sleeping breaths of air. Her father sat in the rocking chair for a long time, one foot pressed against the box spring of her small pink-sheeted bed to rock himself gently, watching the moon seep through the bedroom window in its silent footsteps across the velvety sky and slant across her tiny face.

The sensation of un-rightness came so quickly that his knuckles whitened around his Bible, fingernails rustling the pages, eyes widening as if to pierce the dimness itself and reveal what foul dimension had latched into his brain. Heart crashing around his rib cage, he slowly leaned forward in his rocking chair, Bible cradled to his chest as he traveled from a sitting position onto his knees and the feeling of a negative presence in the girls’ bedroom swelled and washed over him like cold water. The moonlight was no longer friendly and soft; it dug into his eyeballs as he laid the Bible on the ground beside his bended knees and clasped his hands on the bedspread, watching his daughter’s brow furrow and her lips quiver in her sleep. “I command you,” he breathed, voice strangled with the oppressive thing that had slipped uninvited into the bedroom, “in the name of Jesus, to leave this place.”

The night light went out. He was blinking and the next thing he knew, that one tiny source of orange light had fizzled out and thrown him into the cold, pooling moonlight. The dark thing rolled and coursed around the room and his temples began to pulse and ache as the temptation to be afraid scrabbled around his heart. “God, let my soul stand against this,” his mind screamed as he pressed his face against the warm bump of his daughter’s thigh beneath the covers, then against the breathing in her chest. She stirred and whimpered, and her father’s fingers gripped the sheets with protective intensity.
“Keep them away from my daughter with Your blood, Jesus, let me be a shield for her and let them stay away tonight,” his soul groaned, and the breathing rising and falling with quick succession against his face slowed, evened out, the whimpering stopped and the howling feeling of darkness retreated a few paces from his brain.

Then it surged back again.

All night, an unspoken battle whirred back and forth around the girl, pressurizing the air inside the tiny bedroom and bashing against her father’s will but not touching the small upturned face, the small body curled vulnerably beneath the sheets. When the morning light touched her eyelids and she fluttered awake, she found her father kneeling beside her bed, exhausted with his head craned against the blankets but not asleep, and the faint glisten of sweat on his skin.

“Daddy!” she whispered, voice thick with her lovely dreams. He blinked and looked up, saw the hazy sunrise glow trying to get in through the window, and the relief was naked on his tired face. “Was yoo prayin’?” she asked, surprised to find him kneeling beside her.

“Yes, baby,” her father whispered, and leaned over to kiss her gratefully. “I was praying. Do you want some cocoa?”

-Pip

No Greater Love – Hope for the Hopeless

Hope for the Hopeless

written by Charity

One of my biggest heroes would definitely have to be my grandmother whom I call Abuela. She’s dealt with a lot of struggles in her life and has taught me to be strong.

She was born during the depression so right off the bat her life was not easy. She grew up having almost nothing and things just seemed to get worse from there. She got married to my grandfather and had six children, the youngest of which is my dad. Her husband was physically abusive and she finally divorced him when my dad was six-years-old.

She was then left to raise six children on her own while working two jobs. That was in the time when no one would hire her because she was a single mother so she had to work hard to prove that she deserved the job she was applying for. The technique she used was to work the job for free for a week and, if she did well enough, she was hired. She managed not only to take care of her own family, but others as well.

When some of her older children had grown up and moved out she gained a new one. My uncle had a friend whose parents had kicked him out of his home and he asked my grandma if his friend could stay for dinner. She willingly agreed and what was just supposed to be one dinner turned into three years of living with my grandma and my dad. We call the friend “the man who came for dinner.”

Then, a few years before I was born her oldest son who’d lived in New York died from AIDS in his forties. She told me that not a day has gone by when she hasn’t thought about him.

Abuela has taught me that God can get you through any trial or tribulation you face. That He brings hope to the hopeless. Everyone loved and still do love her. I only get to see her once a year when we go to California in the Summer and when I’m there I love listening to her stories and words of encouragement for my life.

Don’t Give Up.

Keep Pressing On.

Never Lose Hope.

Because God is always on your side.

[read more about Charity]

A Final Farewell

Hey, anyone that’s still reading!

I just wanted to put up this final issue to say goodbye. KOF has been going since 2009, and since then, a lot of our contributors have moved on. I’ve loved every minute working with this magazine, and I’m sad to see it go. However, after praying about it for a long while, I’ve come to the decision to bring KOF to a close.

Our domain has expired, but you can still find old posts at kidsoffaith.wordpress.com. This site won’t be going away.

In addition, feel free to keep up with the writers at their blogs. We’d love to hear from you.

You can find us here:

Kylie @ Further Up and Further In

Ashley @ In God We Still Trust

Pip @ Beautiful Miasma

Charity @ Life in Living Color

Bluejane @ Before My Penn Has Gleaned

Catey @ Sparks of Illumination

Jocelberry @ The Jocelberry Patch

 

 

And in conclusion, thank you, dear readers, for making our time at KOF so special. Stay strong, grow in God, and never forget how much He loves you!

In Him,

-Kylie