Sunday Testimony
I was a prodigal.
No excuses. I had a good family. They taught me right from wrong and took good
care of me, took me to church, supported my extracurricular activities…
Still—in my late teens, I chose to wander a different path. It was the path
culture sold through media and song, an alluring path, but one that ended in
sadness. No, I didn’t end up in a pigpen. I went to college, got a degree,
worked at my job, and made friends. I knew and still believed in what was
right, but didn’t want to give up control.
Inside, though,
the old expression held true. I had a hole in my heart only God could fill.
At twenty-six
years old, I hit my knees and begged the Lord to take me back. I was finally
willing to go where He led me if only He would have me.
I heard the
prodigal story anew in a sermon. The story was more about God than it was about
the prodigal. The fact that our Father is waiting, watching, and searching us
out. He yearns to have his children back with Him. In Luke, Jesus describes a
scene where a father runs to his son when he turns down the road to home,
throws his arms around his long-lost son’s neck. He puts a ring on his finger
and throws a party to celebrate.
So I often write
stories with prodigals as a main characters because that’s what I know.
The messes of
your past and mine also don’t eliminate us from being useful in God’s service.
He can transform the ashes of our pasts into something beautiful if we give Him
the chance.
My latest book is called The Art of Rivers
About the book:
Rivers Sullivan
bears both visible and invisible scars—those on her shoulder from a bullet
wound and those on her heart from the loss of her fiancé during the same brutal
attack. Not even her background as an art therapist can help her regain her faith
in humanity. Still, she scrapes together the courage to travel to St. Simons
Island to see the beach cottage and art gallery she’s inherited from her
fiancĂ©. When she stumbles upon recovering addicts running her gallery, she’s
forced to reckon with her own healing.
After the tragic
drowning of his cousin, James Cooper Knight spends his days trying to make up
for his past mistakes. He not only dedicates his life to addiction counseling,
but guilt drives him to the water, searching for others who’ve been caught
unaware of the quickly rising tides of St. Simons. When he rescues a peculiar
blond woman and her sketch pad from a sandbar, then delivers this same woman to
his deceased grandmother’s properties, he knows things are about to get even
more complicated.
Tragic
circumstances draw Cooper and Rivers closer, but they fight their growing
feelings. Though Cooper’s been sober for years, Rivers can’t imagine trusting
her heart to someone in recovery, and he knows a relationship with her will
only rip his family further apart. Distrust and guilt are only the first
roadblocks they must overcome if they take a chance on love.
More about Janet
W. Ferguson
Janet W.
Ferguson grew up in Mississippi and received a degree in
Banking and Finance from the University of Mississippi. She has served as a
children’s minister and a church youth volunteer. An avid reader, she worked as
a librarian at a large public high school. She writes humorous inspirational
fiction for people with real lives and real problems. Janet and her husband
have two grown children, one really smart dog, and a few cats that allow them
to share the space.
Connect with Janet:
5 comments:
Wow, your story and your books sound amazing! This book sounds like a real page turner! The cover is really nice, I really like it! God Bless you for writing these kind of stories that help people out. :) Have a Great week.
Thank you so much, Licha! I hope you enjoy! I love how the cover turned out too!
Blessings,
Janet
Thank you so much for having me on your blog!
Janet, thank you for sharing your testimony. Thankful for God's unconditional love no matter how bad we stray away.
The Art of Rivers sounds like a beautiful story that will resonant with readers. Blessings on your new release and the faith message for readers to glean.
Thank you, Marilyn!
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