Jesus entered a village,
and Scripture says:
“A woman named Martha
welcomed Him into her house.”
(Luke 10:38)
Jesus entered a village,
and Scripture says:
“A woman named Martha
welcomed Him into her house.”
(Luke 10:38)
Long before the kings of Israel,
before the psalms of David filled the air,
before the temple stood in Jerusalem,
There were names.
Pages and pages of them.
Fathers and sons.
Generations marching quietly through history.
The Book of 1 Chronicles records them carefully, as beads threaded together on a long string of memory.
At first glance, it feels repetitive.
I am my father’s daughter.
The daughter who lived under her father’s covering.
The daughter whose head was anointed for greatness and leadership.
He taught me my place.
He taught me my ancestry.
He reminded me that I belonged to tribes so great that nations bow at the mere mention of them.