A Hill Folk’s Guide to Jesus

 

 

 

 

 

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For you ladies who know me in real life you know that I am very southern. I grew up on a farm. I like to fish. (Even though my husband must bait my hook and fish my line out of trees on a regular basis.) I have a very twangy voice and it’s not in that charming, cute, adorable way. It’s in that funny “Oh, my Lord where are you from?!?” way. Or maybe more accurately put “You must be Larry the Cable Guy’s sister or something.”

Editors usually think I am punking them when I leave a message on their office phone. To make things worse my first job (title is accurate) read “tractor secretary”. No joke. My cubicle consisted of brochures of tractors, tractor parts, tractor attachments . . . you name it. I was secretary of it. 

Yes. My family and I – we are back woods all the way! I have always thought Jesus really related to us back woods bunch . . . this is the Hill Folk’s Guide to Jesus. 

 

He wasn’t afraid to take the back roads . . .

And when He did He rode in on a donkey. That’s just one tiny step up from an old-busted-out John Deere lawnmower running on three bald tires, a wheel rim and a shot out suspension.

He was born amongst the cows and chickens. Extra brownie points for the goats. Goats are awesome.

His best friends spent all day out on the lake.

He was predicted by the old folks before He ever showed up . . . just like your Grandma’s arthritis when it rains.  

He showed up every fish tale known to man with that multiplying-the-trout thing. My husband would like to know what bait He used.

He fixed broken people  . . . and he never even used duct tape.

He once hung out in the wilderness for a whole 40 days.

He brought a whole new meaning to hanging out in a tree stand when he literally hung out standing on a tree.

Here He camouflaged my sins.

But it didn’t end there.  

Just like biscuit dough – He rose.

 

Thank God for Jesus . . . who made His grace spectacular and yet simple enough for a country girl like me to understand. 

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