I have been a homegrown, root to fruit, free Gentile, Pharisee of pharisees - to borrow a bit of ‘rubbish’ from Paul. Non-denominational since my birth, the daughter of a life-long, bi-vocational preacher, bottle-fed and reared by the Evangelicals back when there were still Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night weekly services – plus the special conferences and prayer meetings; born again in the baptismal waters of the Assemblies of God at the age of six. I was nine years the wife of a Charismatic worship leader and, thus, the de-facto worship slide-show and sound booth operator, worship team staple member, and Sunday morning set-up, tear-down, and dutifully-avid greeter. No matter where I am, I enter my Father’s House with confidence, as His home has formed all of my foundations and walls since I first toddled there.

I attended a school of ministry, even if only for a few months due to a move to help a start-up church a few towns away. For two years, I was privileged to become part of an office staff with the traditionally but modernizing Baptists, where I served the welcome team, the worship team, and the children’s team pastors, again setting-up and tearing-down, as we navigated a relocation from a landlocked part of town to our own spacious campus. Though always non-denominational at heart, I have effortlessly joined the congregants of Anglican, Presbyterian, Lutheran, Reformed Baptist, and Missionary Alliance church bodies. I spit the Methodists and Episcopalians back out and do not consider that a fault on my part. I am highly disagreeable to worldly culture and do not attend their concerts or clubs or other idolatrous worship services, though I am also able to rub shoulders with just about anyone and without offense (given or taken) – except, perhaps, for on social media, where my warrior status as part of the Army of God bleeds out and I show no mercy (because, quite frankly, the world nor the devil have shown me any in life). I am a peace-keeper at heart, but I, like the dear shepherd, David, will outlandishly overstep my feeble, white, and timid frame if challenged by a haughty Goliath to defend God’s Word and the little lambs entrusted to me.

I have had prophetic dreams and experienced physical healing through prayer, and I have seen a demon look at me with the intent to kill and been delivered. I have struggled my entire life with self-righteousness – which, by the way, is not believing you’re better than someone else but believing that all of your own ‘right’ actions can keep you in good-standing with God (rather than Jesus’ blood and righteousness alone). “I consider them rubbish that I may gain Christ,” (Philippians 3:8).

I tripped over a communion table, but fell right into the hem of His garments. And that is enough. Christ is enough – though we “go and sin no more” (John 8:11).

I’ve entertained umpteen blogs over the course of my life, all with various themes and missions. I see life through a macro lens and have great difficulty narrowing down my interests into one blog’s framework. Still, one thing I see remains constant, and that is my love for God’s Word… so we will begin there.

Psalm and Proverbs were the rod and staff of my childhood. Then came the wild and alarming stories of the Kings, Chronicles, and Genesis of the Book, which fascinated my youth. Next, the Revelation of the Lord’s Day rocked my teenage years, as I reread the book over and over and over again. Always, in the middle of it all, was Jesus and His disciples - my Living Hope.

Nonetheless, I began to notice things that others seemed not to notice. I have lamented with the prophets of old about wicked times, perverse shepherds, and a lost, lost culture all around me. And I began to wonder why some passages and verses were never clarified on a Sunday morning… why every commentary on that verse just sort of skipped over it without offering any clarity at all… why some of the called, chosen, or faithful around me seemed content to highlight the high-reels of Scripture but got squeamish and, suddenly, indifferent or angry when I tried to point out balancing or countering passages.

Wasn’t I trained as a “good Berean” - to take into account the “whole” Word of God, “infallible” and “God-breathed”?

I have spent my life in the B-rolls of Scripture… and found God there too. So, with a dash of humor and reflection, in my blog here I want to present to you the verses and hard truths you won’t hear on a Sunday morning at church - but of no less importance.

Beloved, how great is the love that the Father has lavished upon us - that we might be called the children of God! For that is who we really are….

Mandy E. Savoy

…A lavished child