Free Easter Memes and Pictures

Free Easter Memes and Pictures




Free Easter Memes and Easter Christian Devotionals



He Lives! All Glory To His Name!

He Lives! All Glory To His Name!


We celebrate the Easter season by reflecting on the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We must remember. Christ is not dead in a tomb. That tomb is empty and He is risen from his three-day prison. Jesus Christ, the Messiah is alive today in a physical, glorified and perfected body.  HE LIVES! ALL GLORY TO HIS NAME!

Troy Wagstaff ©

Easter Memes and Graphics – Christian Devotional

Easter Memes and Graphics – Christian Devotional

This Christian memes about Easter are free to use now or whenever. The Easter message is good to use year around.


The Resurrection Of Jesus Christ


The first thing Christ did when he was resurrected was appear to three women.


Because Christ was resurrected, we will also be resurrected.

How to Reinvent Yourself With Fibro . . . Living an Eventful Purpose Filled Life

How to Reinvent Yourself With Fibro . . . Living an Eventful Purpose Filled Life

I have had fibromyalgia for more than thirty years but the past eleven years have been debilitating and outright paralyzing. Because of how sick I became my blogging became erratic and eventually a burden. The first twenty years of fibromyalgia were diagnosed as arthritis. The illness had taken a severe turn for the worse and my health deteriorated very fast. I wrote a non fiction short story about my 31-year journey with Fibromyalgia that goes into the details of my illness and the myriad of symptoms.

I finally got the right doctors, the right diagnosis and my symptoms stabilized and in some cases improved. I was in a position to manage my condition to a certain extent. I have chronic fatigue, chronic pain, fibro fog which is a term used to describe issues related to the brain, memory and cognition. I have flare ups of various symptoms quite frequently. Living with fibromyalgia is like riding on an out of control roller coaster with no end in sight. There are occasional lulls in the ride and then there are unexpected sharp turns which are the fibro flares that occur frequently.

To make a real long story a little shorter I found out, through one of my pain doctors that writing, of any kind, is good physical therapy for the brain, similar to learning a foreign language. Any type of language art is good therapy for the brain to help maintain or regain memory loss and improve cognition.

reinventing_yourselfWhen my doctor knew, I was blogging and writing she said that I should do it every day as physical therapy for the brain. What started as a hobby became a type of therapy for dealing with fibro fog.

Part of my non fiction writing, deals with my experiences with fibromylagia. I write fibromyalgia posts to add to fibro awareness. I maintain a list of topics to write about regarding fibromyalgia.

One such topic was reinventing yourself after your life has been turned upside down from the terrible illness. I have reinvented myself with writing. I have been a published writer of technical articles in the defunct WordPerfect magazine more than 25 years ago. I have done on again off again non fiction writing through the years.

My personal re-invention is in the form of writing both non fiction on my blog and fiction writing.

I came across a writing contest sponsored by Positive Writer and the topic was how writing has positively influenced my life.  In spite of my fibro fog the serendipity was not lost on me. This article was destined both to touch on the reinvention of my life as a fibromyalgia patient and to show how writing has had a profoundly positive effect on my life. Writing allows for self expression regardless of the genre. It also gives me good therapy and gives me a new identity as I seek to reinvent myself through writing.

About five or six months ago I got an itch to try fiction writing. I got hooked. Now I continue to write non fiction, as well as fiction. I have added a couple of short stories on my blog and will continue to do so. I am at various stages of two novels, one a historical fiction and the other fantasy.

As I have become much more serious about writing, I have seen some improvement in my memory issues. It will be a slow process. I have something meaningful to do each day which gives me a purpose. When you’re very sick over a long time, you tend to feel your life has no purpose. Writing gave that back to me.

For me, writing is the difference between a deep dark pit of despair and having daily hope. This is very important to the chronically ill. Writing a short story or a book will last many lifetimes and be a testament to my effort. Any kind of writing can be therapeutic from journaling to creative writing.

Writing is a way to express yourself. You don’t need to publish to be a writer. All you need to do is “take pen to paper” and express yourself. It can be therapeutic on many levels and it is a great way to live a legacy behind.

I needed to reinvent myself since I can no longer do what I used to do. Writing has been a gift to me. I can write when I feel good. I can sit on my recliner with my computer on my lap and write until I need a rest.

Writing is a way to bring something beautiful and positive out of something so insidious as fibromyalgia. Writing has been my rebirth. It has given me a sense of purpose and it gives me a reason to be excited about waking up in the morning. Writing fiction gives me a chance to create characters that can do things I can no longer do. I can live my life through my characters.

And to top it all off, I am getting physical therapy done for my brain. Writing is possible for anyone with an imagination and the ability to dream. I may only write an hour here or thirty minutes there but by the end of the day I might have a few hours of writing done. I have a purpose in spite of my severe limitations because of writing.

Troy Wagstaff ©

Christian Daily Devotional For Easter

Christian Daily Devotional For Easter

As I have been preparing some Easter messages about the resurrection of Jesus Christ, I have been reading up each of the four gospel’s accounts of the resurrection. Of course the number one message is that Jesus was resurrected but one message I felt like I should mention in addition to the resurrection is that when Jesus Christ was resurrected, he appeared first to women, then to the Apostles and other saints.

easter_cw_dev_4If Christians really read the Bible and followed its teachings then there would never be any question of women in the gospel. So many women are mistreated and abused under the name of Christianity. This is terrible and should never happen.

Everyone, men, women and children all have their role to play in the gospel of Jesus Christ. No one is loved more or less by the Redeemer. He loves us all the same. I think, as a testament to that message, that is why he first appeared to Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary, the mother of James. We should always treat each other, children, women and men with love and respect as we follow the example of Jesus Christ. Let’s let the Easter season remind us of how important we all are to Jesus.

Troy Wagstaff ©

I Want To Know What Love Is

I Want To Know What Love Is

Christian Devotional

Since the dawn of time men and women have been searching for love. Adam and Eve loved each other and they taught their children about love. But as the population of the earth grew ever bigger, not everyone could feel the love their souls desired.

Men and women began looking for love in all the wrong places trying to feel a void that could only be filled with love. Countless songs have been written about looking for love. Mostly they are talking about the love of a man or women.

know_what_love_isMarried love is one of the greatest loves of all, but the greatest love of all love is between a person and their Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

One of the great rock songs about love was written by Mick Jones. I’ve enclosed seven lines from his song “I Want to know What Love Is.”

“I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me.”

I saw this un attributed quote on Pintrest recently, it says “Jesus died for you knowing you might not love Him back. That is love!”

If you want to know what love is then look no farther that Jesus Christ. If you read about his life and study his teachings you will know what love is, what real, eternal love is.

Mr. Jones goes on to write:

“In my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far, to change this lonely life.”

No love, except the Saviors love, can really ease heart ache and pain. With Christ you can face anything. Through Christ you will never need to feel lonely again.

Troy Wagstaff

The Village Gate: A Short Story

The Village Gate: A Short Story

Thump! Thump! The “caller” was banging on the wooden door of the Murphy’s small cabin. It was midnight but this was urgent business. In a nervous hurry, the caller barged into the small cabin and loudly called out Clive’s name with no regard to anyone sleeping.

“Duncan! Is that you?!” Clive Murphy said with a scowling yell.

village_gate“Clive, get your gear, troubles brewing at the Village gate. Meet us at the school house.” As if to punctuate that sentence with an exclamation point, Duncan slammed the door shut.

As Clive was preparing to leave, Doria told her husband “you tell Duncan to knock next time! He better never barge into our house again! I don’t care if our village is under attack by the Unknowns or not. Next time he knocks or he gets shot!” Since the Murphy’s were a part of the Protection Society, Clive was obligated to go when requested, day or night, no questions asked.

Doria Murphy, was clanking around the kitchen getting breakfast started when her little ones woke up from a fitful sleep. Clive Jr. (CJ), the oldest came bounding down the loft.

“Ma, why didn’t you wake me up when you got up? I should to be tending to the livestock, with Pa gone” said CJ as he was getting his coat on.

“You’re right CJ, I should have thought about the livestock . . . ” her words trailed off as CJ left the cabin. In truth, Doria was thinking about her husband’s involvement with the Protection Society.

The cabin was almost shaking as the winds picked up. The wind sounded like shrieks and mournful wailing. The wind would then calm down revealing a peaceful early morning only to send autumn leaves up in the air in a swirling pattern with harsh sounds of tools and scraps of woods pounding on the barn or cabin. There seemed to be a strange rhythm to the wind gusts.

By now it was breakfast time and the cabin was engulfed with the sounds and smells of bacon on the frying pan. The wind gusts had died down. Since Clive had not yet returned from the Protection Society at the village gate, Doria couldn’t help but think “this time they must be fighting the Unknowns.” That thought a worried Doria.

Many times the Protection Society had been called to arms to protect the village from the Unknowns. Until now, a show of force seemed to keep the Unknowns at bay. The Protection Society had never actually fought the Unknowns and they usually were home by morning. Since it was past his usual arrival time Doria was concerned a real fight was on. How would they fare? They didn’t really have any fighting experience.

Doria had just placed the last strip of bacon in the frying pan and wiped her hands on her apron, peering out the window she saw Maggie with her red braids floating in the air as she raced out of the chicken coop with her egg basket curiously empty.

Instinctively, Doria’s thoughts were swirling with Maggie frantically running out of the chicken coop and wondering where her husband was? Her thoughts were blasted as a breathless Maggie burst through the door at the same time the rooster eerily crowed. “Ma! Come quickly!” yelled Maggie, “there is something wrong in the chicken coop!”

Maggie and her mama rushed to the chicken coop. As Doria stepped into the roost, a strange feeling of despair came over Doria. All the chickens were dead except for the old crowing rooster. “Oh my . . . what in the name of St. Patrick happened to the chickens?”

As Doria was stepping out of the coop, she smelled the burning bacon. As she was running to the kitchen she wondered “why is everything going wrong this morning, what’s going on?”

While cleaning the frying pan that burnt the bacon a flood of questions came over Doria as she wondered what her husband might be doing? Was he in any danger? Could he be dead? He was a strong hard-working man but he was a peaceful man, did he have a killer instinct to kill whatever was threatening the village?

CJ rushed into the cabin followed by a rush of red and orange autumn leaves hollering “Ma, where’s the rope?”

“It’s in the barn,” his Ma replied as she walked past CJ and closed the door against the cold autumn wind as it started to batter their cabin.

“No, it ain’t, I looked everywhere, I’ve got to find the rope, Ladd’s loose and Pa’s saddle is on him. He won’t come to me when I call his name, he seems spooked for some reason.”

“What do you mean Ladd’s loose? Your father rode off with him when the Protection Society came calling last night!” Doria had a feeling that something wasn’t right. With her husband off fighting the Unknown, all the chickens dead, Clive’s horse on the loose, despair and foreboding filled her senses.

Maggie was cleaning the living area of the cabin while Doria started getting dinner ready. A while later Doria called to Maggie, “would you please go out and check on your brother CJ? It’s been a while and I want to know about the horse.”

Dusk had settled in and the cold wind was still battering the small wooden cabin. Maggie put on her scarf and coat and then she ran straight to the barn like she was told.

Bursting though the wooden doors, she startled the livestock. Her brother CJ was bent over a heap of a person with bloody clothes.

“Maggie, come quick, over here!” Yelled CJ.

“Pappa!” gasped Maggie as she recognized her pappa’s face. His head and chest were soaked in blood. Clive’s eyelids seemed to flutter a few times before his eyes opened. Maggie was startled and scared. Without a moments hesitation she ran toward the cabin. She came running through the cabin doors breathlessly shouting “Ma! Come quick!”

Troy Wagstaff © Copyright, All Rights Reserved

%d bloggers like this: