Tag: Global

7 Hour GLOBAL WORSHIP EVENT (20 COUNTRIES) | Fast/ PRAY FOR YOUR COUNTRY! || HAVEN FELLOWSHIP” on YouTube

Has there ever been a time like this one? Has there ever been a silence like now: each of us one voice asking the same questions/ the same quest for peace/ the same need? We are as a race quietened; we have never before been startled as we are today. I’ve not experienced a certain shameless scream inside, for each other. Never before has my heart been this unafraid to say it out loud: we need you Lord Jesus. No one else met me in my darkest hour; no one else showed me the Light. Yea I can say it without a flicker of a doubt: you and I have been loved by the Christ.

Here it is! Woooo! 😄😄😄🥳
We received 112 expressions of worship, from 20 countries, 53 states, 5 continents, in 28 different languages!
Let’s get on our knees, praise God, and pray for our land! 😄

https://youtu.be/GpnxLbxlx1U

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The Deadliest Contagion

My Article published in DOVE TALES: LITERARY JOURNAL OF THE ARTS

Pic: DoveTales Journal Resistance/ Summer Edition Aug 2020


The Deadliest Contagion: writing for peace, rayla noel:

That first time I watched ‘Gandhi’, one scene followed me out of the theater door: the one with native police and advancing marchers. Row after row, they went down battered and bloodied, and not one of them raised an arm in defense.  Martin Luther King Jr.  said it was this Salt March movement that deeply influenced his own philosophy of civil disobedience. Gandhi’s handful of salt at Dandi would change the way we read Resistance.

Shifting Plates

When I was 8 years old we lived in a rental home next to land lady Vanima’s cottage

She wore a 7 yard sari and gold anklets to underline her ‘high’ caste. How we even got to rent their place beats me, but if our shadow so much as fell across them on certain nights/days there was serious ritual cleansing that followed. Vanima would chant out loud, cover her head, and slam her front door against ills that might arrive at her from us. My mother was a teacher and my father worked a few miles away in a coastal town we visited every weekend, but on week days we had to brave our new address. Both our front steps ran together. Curiously, we shared the same walls and well—the projecting concrete brickwork over the top of well just about covered her face from ours. It was ridiculously awkward…...read more

The Deadliest Contagion https://writingforpeace.org/rayla-noel/

Developing empathy and peaceful activism through creative writing

Oil Painting : Shalom https://writingforpeace.org/rayla-noel-2/

Dovetales Journal online

 

https://writingforpeace.org/nonfiction-2/

   

 



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