I am not a cowgirl. I've never wrangled steers on the grassy plains of Oklahoma.
If you're wondering, then, how in the world I named this blog Ranched on Jesus, you'll need some answers. (If you're not wondering, you either already know me well or you might be African.)
Years ago I got involved with a small Ugandan ministry working to help orphans. (For more on this visit The Story page). The name of that ministry is Ranch on Jesus.
Way back when that ministry's director, Theophilus Kamara, was placing an order in a Kampala shop. The sales girl asked him to tell her the name of the organization so she could write it on the form.
"Ranch on Jesus," he said.
"What?" she asked hesitantly.
"R-a-n-c-h O-n J-e-s-u-s."
Still no luck.
He took the pen and wrote it down for her. Then he looked up and asked her the all important question:
"Do you Ranch on Jesus?"
Hence the name of this blog. Ranched on Jesus. Not because I like wide open spaces, salad or a ministry called Ranch on Jesus. (Though I do discuss the ministry a lot.)
It is because I like Him. I love Him. For better or worse I'm Ranched on Jesus. Built on Him, dwelling on Him, sticking on Him through every waiver, eclipse and joy.
So now let me ask you that same important question, Do you Ranch on Jesus?