Quarterly Newsletter

My son called from China.  I could hear something was wrong almost immediately from the sound of his voice.  We chatted a bit then he told me he was tending to his new bride who had become violently ill earlier in the day.

He asked for some advice and seemed grateful when I offered a few suggestions.  I told him to call if he needed me.  It wasn’t long until he was ready to hang up and go see to his beloved.

I had to think of how it is with our Heavenly Father.  When things go wrong, or we are worried, we can call Him anytime.  What a relief to bring our cares and worries to Him.  We can rest assured He has the right answer.

He is never too busy and no request is too small.  We read in Jeremiah 33:3, “to call on Him and He will answer”

I find such comfort in knowing I don’t have to face life alone and neither do you.  Remember, He is only a call away.  Until next time, stay in touch with Jesus.

He didn’t have the skilled hands of a surgeon, or the soft, clean hands of a salesman.  Daddy’s hands were the hands of a tough, trucker-farmer.  His hands were calloused and scarred from years of hard work, one thumb disfigured from nearly losing in in an accident.  His hands were big and a bit clumsy.  He didn’t fare well with tedious work.

No, Daddy’s hands were strong, afraid of nothing. He would face any challenge with strength and sheer determination.  One way or another, he would get the job done.   He had to.  His motivation…his family.  He must take care of them, shelter them, provide for the needs of a wife, and five daughters.  He could not forget them.  Often alone, he faced obstacles most men would flee, but daddy pressed on, his hands, the object that proved his love.

Not so unlike my Heavenly Father, the One whose hands also bear the scars of love.  Love so fierce and true, it nailed Him to a cross, love so strong, He will never forget me.

See, He knows my name.  It is carved forever on His Hand

I pass it almost every day.  A weathered, one word sign, tacked to a pole.  FREE.  It was hung there by my father to let folks know the produce below it from his bounteous garden was there for the taking,

I wonder how many took some.  I wonder how many even saw it in the mad dash of life.  Daddy’s gone now, but still it hangs there.

It’s a reminder to me of another Father who hung a sign on a pole, for passersby to see, to tell them to help themselves to what he offered there.  I wonder how many accepted that invitation.  I wonder how many didn’t care.  I wonder how many didn’t even see it.

In the chaos of this life we miss so much.  We miss the message, the invitation to take what is offered, but when we do, we can be free.

Hello Friends,

My name is Ronda Weber and I am responsible for this little inspirational column for the DGMA. I am blessed to participate in this ministry and look forward to connecting with you in this way.

I have loved Gospel music since I was a child. There was seldom a day growing up when music wasn’t playing. I’ve been privileged to sing in “Precious Memories” Gospel Band for many years. For several of those years the words did not come from my heart. But through walking a deep valley, I found Jesus to truly be my Savior and now the songs are so precious and meaningful. I really believe that where words fail, music speaks.

The Bible says in Psalms 135:3 “Praise the Lord for the Lord is good. Celebrate His lovely name with music.” Here at DGMA it is our desire and sincere prayer that through the avenue of music, the community can come together to praise God and through that music, non-believers will see we have a common goal, which is working together to build God’s Kingdom through the power of Christian music.

May God bless each one as we do our part to point lost souls to Him.