He does....with open Arms....                                                   

                                                       ....COME ON IN!                      

             Light Unto My Path...                                                                                                                                                                

 Continue His Love...                                                


Bent nearly double under the weight of a huge cross, a man guarded by soldiers, and followed by a yelling,
mocking mob, struggles up a hill. Sweat and blood mingle on His white, pain-drawn face; for a crown of
sharp thorns has been pressed upon His brow with such force, it pierces deep into His flesh. A needle-like
dart sticks just above one eye, and the blood runs down and partially obscures His vision. Tightly, His
hands are bound behind His back, which with horror, we see to be streaming with blood, cut and lacerated
with long, livid welts, showing where the lash of the whip had fallen from the scourging He
received...thirty-nine stripes! All you can see of His face is one pale cheek.

He staggers on; then, without warning, falls insensible, with the rough cross lying with all its weight on His
lacerated back. Realizing the Man can go no farther thus burdened, the soldiers lay hold of a man among
the noisy crowd, and binds the cross to His back. In the meantime, the Man has been revived, and is once
more standing on His trembling legs, and the procession is again on its way up the steep hill.

Reaching its summit, the Cross is laid on the ground, and the Man is loosed and stretched upon it.
A soldier sits at its base, places His two feet together on the heavy beam, while another soldier brings a huge
spike...about eight inches long...and a heavy hammer. His arms are stretched out on the crossbeams.
They drive spikes thru the hands and feet of this living being! The thud of a hammer against nails is mingled
with the sound of deep groans from the bloodless lips of the stricken Man, as the heavy spikes
tear thru flesh, grating past bones on their way to the wood beneath.
Surely, now they will be content with their hellish hate!

There is a deep hole dug at the base of the structure, and now, several husky soldiers lift the burdened cross
and, grunting, drop it, with a thud, into the hole. The strain of His weight on the nailed hands and feet,
force a cry from the pale lips of the Man...yet, He doesn't curse those who so cruelly torture His body.
Instead, He lifts His eyes to Heaven and prays. For Himself...that His pain be lessened?
No! This is His prayer...

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." A pleas for forgiveness for those cruel, heartless
people, who have subjected Him to such untold suffering and humiliation, and now, have nailed Him to a
Cross to die in excruciating agony.

Minutes pass. He hangs motionless. Blood drips ceaselessly from His head, His back, His hands and His
feet. The torn back raises a fever; His throat is parched; feebly He asks for a drink of water. Someone runs
quickly...dips hyssop into a liquid, and raises it on a long reed to the white lips. It isn't water!

Their hate of this poor, suffering Man is so great, He is denied what one would give to a dying dog...
a cooling drink of water. They bring HIM, vinegar mingled with gall. He is dying. Surely, there must be
someone in all that vast mob who would relent and have compassion. Instead, they mock Him
and taunt Him in every way, wagging their heads...telling Him to save Himself if He is indeed,
the Son of God, as He had affirmed!

Suddenly, every voice is hushed! The people stand, scarcely daring to breathe. A feeling of horror grips their
hearts as every light in creation seems to be snuffed out, and an intense darkness settles over the earth.
In fear, they ask each other what such a phenomenon can mean!

A vivid flash of lightening, that splits the darkness for a moment, only to make it more intense, seems to
strike at the Cross, and is followed by a crash of thunder that shakes the earth.
For three hours, the Man on the Cross is the center of this strange and terrifying storm.
It's as if the mighty wrath of God has joined its fury with that of the mob,
against this One, forsaken, suffering Creature!

But...the heart that had so bravely endured man's rejection, cannot endure a seemingly
separation from His God, and suddenly, a loud cry issues from His tortured lips.

"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" And with another last, loud cry,
His head falls forward...and He dies. Then, indeed, it seems God would vent His wrath
upon the people who have misused His only Son.  The earth veil of the Temple
is torn from top to bottom, and graves are opened.
Terrified people begin to speak to each other in awed tones.

"Truly, this must have been the Son of God, and we have crucified Him!"
They flee in every direction from the awful place of skulls.

Have I caused you to see this tragedy? Have you also pictured in your mind the Man
on His ascent up the hill; His crucifixion; the awful storm of darkness; the pain and death;
the dripping blood? Did you wonder why such things could be?
Did you wonder why God also appeared to direct His fierce anger
at the Man who had already suffered the cruelest, the most excruciating agony and humiliation?
Did you wonder why the Man should have cried, "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me"?
Did you hear the blow of hammers against the spikes as they tore their way thru the living flesh?
Did you see the agony in His white face? Did you hear the groans He could not repress?
Did you see the mark on His cheek where someone had slapped Him, and did you see
those awful ragged cuts on His back, and that thorn above the eye?

You ask why such a tragedy has been done? It was for was for me. It was for me that He had
His back cut to ribbons with a cat-0-nine tails; for me, someone slapped His face till the marks
remained for hours; for me someone mocked Him and crushed the sharp thorns on His brow;
for me, He carried the heavy Cross till He fainted; for me,
He was stretched on the Cross and nailed there; for me,
He endured the awful pain without the comfort of a drop of cool water to ease His fever;
for me, His last hours were tortured with a sense of separation from the Father He adored.
It was my sins that sent Him to His can I express it!
It was all for me....unworthy me. It was I, who deserved all He endured, but He did it for me.
You ask me why? Why did He volunteer to die for me...for you?
I cannot tell you more than to say that it was because He loved us.
It is too wonderful for me to think out. My mind is too small!
I only know that He suffered and died so that I might be freed from the power of satan,
and that I might have eternal life. I know I love Him because of it,
and I shall never cease to thank and praise the Father for the matchless love He revealed;
letting His dearest possession suffer for me.

Can you continue to reject Him now? Is your heart still hardened? Are you unwilling
YET to believe the salvation of your soul? Does your heart not thrill at the love
He has shown for you? For me? Think of it! All that happened on that hill at Golgotha
was for the assurance of your happiness and eternal welfare.  Can't you see it?
Beulah Alcott 1958



This morning, my mind is dwelling on the Cross, and the suffering that You bore there on Golgotha's
Hill...and the great love for me that caused You to bear it. Pilate's Judgement Hall,
You were buffeted about and Your precious brow pierced with a crown of Thorns
and, in mockery, You were robed in Purple...yet,
You never opened Your mouth in one word of defence.

Had it not been for me, Jesus, You could have called down revenge on those who were abusing You so.
But, Jesus, You knew that Your precious blood must be offered and shed,
because I was such a could I be an heir with You in Your Father's Kingdom?
I was Your creation, and You were not willing to let me die in sin
without showing me a way out.

Now, upon meditating on Your suffering, I know that I'm so unworthy of Your great sacrifice.
How could I have gone on in sin, grieving Your precious heart
that had bled so for me!

I remember the drops of blood that trickled down over Your Face as the thorns bit into
Your aching brow...and Your Hands bound behind You, and there was not one
to wipe the blood from Your Face. And when they smote Your Face and bared Your Back,
and scourged You with many was I, then, to know that,
by those stripes, I would be healed!

Placing a heavy cross upon Your Shoulders, You bore it up that long bitter road to Calvary.
But, somehow, Jesus, as I walked along there with You, I began to know that You were suffering for me;
and I wanted to help You bear that heavy load. Now, I know that it was not only a heavy cross
You were bearing, but the burdens of the whole world were upon Your shoulders.

And then, wonders of all!!  You...You just laid Yourself upon that tree. You weren't forced to lie down..
You just stretched forth Your Arms and laid them on the if inviting them to torture You!
And before my very eyes, the soldiers raised a heavy hammer..they placed a spike upon Your Hands
and drove it through and fastened You to that dreadful tree. How could they stand to do more to You!
But...they did.
This time they chose a much longer spike...else how could they
drive it thru both of Your feet!

The hammers were raised...they fell, once...twice...and yet the third time, until it had driven thru!
Oh, such terrible agony!!  Yet...You still have not murmured.
Oh, Jesus, how could You bear such agony without crying out!!
But, JESUS, You still must bear more.

Now they are raising the Cross to lower it into the hole they have dug for it. Oh! they have deliberately
dropped it into the hole. Oh! such terrible agony! How long must You bear it...Oh, Jesus, how long!
Now you have asked for a drink of water, and of all the cruel things they have done...
they gave You vinegar mixed with gall (the only thing that they have done to You that
You offered any resistance to...You refused to drink).

And now, thank Thy dear Father, You have given up the Ghost. I meditate upon Your last words..
"Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do."

I wondered why they broke the legs of the two that hung with You there, but didn't break Yours...instead,
they thrust a spear in Your side and behold!...out flowed water and blood. I couldn't understand then
Jesus..but now I know that Your blood was to purchase me and the water would wash away my sins. last, Your suffering is over. What is happening to the sun! Everything is dark! The earth is quaking!
The soldiers are frightened! Hear what they are saying? "Truly, this is the Son of God!"
They have fallen on their faces in fear! For they have crucified and put to shame
the Son of the Living God!!

Now in remembering the things that You said to us! You would be put to death, but You would live again.
They have put You in a grave which has never been defiled by man. But they KNOW NOT the power that
Thy Father has given Thee. This grave cannot hold You! For the stone will roll away
and You shall RISE again...
and You shall BECOME the Light of the world!!!


King Jesus died on Calvary, when Jesus died it was for me.
I oft-times wonder, shall I know, how much I much I owe?
My Jesus in Gethsemane passed thru the direst agony,
T'was all for me He suffered so... Now, how can I tell how much I owe!
When on the Cross, those cruel nails gave me a Christ that never fails.
And from His wounds there came a flow that saves from much I owe!
I once was lost in shame and sin, but Christ forgave and took me in.
He blesses me where ere I go..I cannot tell, how much I owe!

When I shall reach that Golden Shore to dwell with Him forevermore,
Ten million years may come and go..I still cannot much I owe.
O Sinner, listen to my plea. Let Christ come in and dwell with thee.
When troubles seem to never cease, King Jesus comes to give you peace.


Written by Shirley Kotsanos

Now can you doubt it?

Living in the country
Living the rest of my life writing and writing...
Reading and Reading and Reading...
Seeing my grandchildren grow up...
To remain a good Apostolic Pentecostal...
To win others to the Lord...
To see my youngest married and happy...

I have told you my greatest hearts desires....At this point in life, these things can only be desires..except for
my being a better Apostolic...this I can do until He calls me home to be with Him throughout all eternity.

There is no other Way...

As I said, I want to be a better Apostolic...
Perhaps this will help you to understand what I mean....

I want to know more about Jesus, my blessed Redeemer and Friend.
Know more of His love and His mercy, e'er my journey thru life here should end.
I know that He died just to save me, tho I had sunk deep in sin.
He opened the door to Salvation, and pleaded for me to come in.

So long did I turn from my Saviour. I would not heed His soft plea.
He sought me with love and compassion, saying, "Child, won't you come unto Me?
You need no longer be weary, I'll give you solace and rest.
My arms are long reaching and tender. Won't you come unto me and be blessed"?

Then, at last when it seemed life was empty, no where could I find peace and rest.
I heeded the voice of my Jesus, now I lean on His sweet gentle breast.
He knows when the tempter would snare me, so I have no fear or alarms.
I know that He hears when I call Him. He'll hold me in everlasting Arms.

The joy in my soul now is rolling. My words to describe it are few.
No tongue can relate all the goodness He has promised for me and for you!
Written by Beulah Alcott
(my blessed Mother)


Purity in heart...

A 'true' Mother...



I want to tell you about a Mother's undying love..something new?
No...something that never grows old or threadbare.
A Mother's love is needed in today's society, now, more than ever..I'm sure that we all agree that,
aside from the greatest love that was shown thru Christ's death on the Cross,
a Mother's love is undying and lives on even after death of a child, be it son or daughter..
One example: My husband's mother always wore black after the death of her eldest son.
She would, even after 25 years, go to the cemetery often, bow down and weep and weep
over her son who was killed while on furlough from the Army..she mourned his death
and wore black all of these years, even until her own death at 89 years old.
The unselfish love of the mother in the Bible who would give up her child, never to see her again,
rather than have it split into, just to prove who was the 'real' mother...
Many women have given up their lives to save that of their child...

A 'pearl of great price' is a daughter that knows and responds to such an undying love as those I have
mentioned. Now, I don't mean to infer that all mothers have this type of special love..we all know from
today's newspaper and newscasts, that some women persecute, beat and even murder the one they gave
birth to..then can we, or shall we classify those type of women as mothers? Are all who bear children made
instant-mothers? No..for example, let me mention just 3 less than human,
who have mothered those they did not give 'birth' to: the adoptive parent..
A hen who mothers a duckling... A dog attaches herself to a kitten and will fight to the end for that kitten
that she is, in every possible way, its mother. Also, cases have been known where a dog will mother and
truly become the mother to a rabbit..and this, entirely against nature.
The greatest example, of a 'non-birth' mother is Naomi and Ruth from the Bible.
The great mother's love where there is no flesh and blood connection.

Our Lord Jesus uses love of 'mothers'..remember how He spoke of Jerusalem..
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how oft would I gathered you together as a hen does her chicks,
but you would not..." thus showing us that even when there is no response from the 'chick',
there, nevertheless, remains that 'undying love' of the Mother.
How sad when we hear of or see for ourselves the selfish mother..Herodess was a 'mother'(?),
and I use a question mark after the word, 'mother'...for she was a mother of low esteem!
How does one excuse herself from the guilt of that selfish love when asking a daughter
to have another human being murdered!
This kind of mother love cannot be fathomed!!
The Word of God tells us to raise a child in the way it should go...
A husband, or wife, sister or brother, may turn around,
walk out of the front door and never return again,
but a 'Mother' will never turn her back on her child..come what may.
All unkind words or actions can so easily be erased with 4 words, earnestly spoken,
and can conquer all ills...'I love you, Mother', and 'I'm so happy that God chose you
to be my daughter (or son)'...these infamous words will live on and on,
throughout the ages, won't they?

I suppose, in essence then, I am trying to say...Mothers have been appointed to watch over their children's
souls..they are soul-shepherds who should strive to be wise and true, and if, thru our experiences,
we know all the dangerous deep, dark holes that they can fall in,
a mother must warn them until they take heed.
Mothers are to give them treasures of Heaven's gold, that will fill up their hand and heart
so that the pleasures of earth will lose its hold on them. Mothers must 'gather their 'young chicks'
around them and tell them of Christ and His saving power..lead them, not just tell them
of the pathway of holiness...they must set the example..they watch their mothers,
just as the Lambs will watch their Shepherd...for soon, they will be leaving their 'mother'
to make their own way, and how selfish it would be of a mother to hold her fledgling
in the nest when it is ready to take wing.. Mother must prepare them for this 'flight'.
This, my Mother has done for me.

There is an old story told to me many years ago, that will sum up
my love and admiration for my mother.
One day, a certain Mother's son, was offered a lot of money, love and success,
if he would but cut out the heart of his Mother and bring it to them...
So, the day came when the son hastily removed his mother's heart
after cutting it out of her breast with a dull knife.
While running thru the forest with his mother's heart, bleeding profusely between the cupped hands
that had cruelly removed it from his mother's bosom,
he stumbled and fell, and the heart was dropped roughly to the ground.
After brushing off the dirt from his clothing, the son reached down and picked up his mother's heart...
and in the stillness of the forest, he heard a gentle voice so sweetly whisper, "Are you hurt, my child"?

My Mother wrote one of the most beautiful
Easter stories that I have ever read..since
Easter is not far away, I want to add it to
this page of is long, but
believe me, if you read it, you will not be
sorry and your soul will be blessed with the
very presence of the Lord Jesus Christ who
lived, died, arose, and will return for His
waiting Bride...soon....
Some More Favorite Links:
Eva's Place... Inspirational and Heartwarming
("Meanest Mom" and other motivating stories/poems)
Old Testament Trivia
The Cross Room
Send me an e-mail.

A few of Shirley's Pages, as she originally mastered them, are still located
in archives... although they did lose some of their original beauty and
format in which she created them in the transfer to archives.  Some I've
redone already and they are included in Shirley's Meditation Pages here on
this website.  Shirley created over 90 wonderful pages and did such a great
job on her pages that she won an Angel Award for excellency
(see Shirley's Page 1).
More of Shirley's Pages on Other Websites: