Hillbilly Verse of the Day Romans 1:16!
I ain’t ashamed o’ the Good News o’ Christ — reckon it’s God’s own muscle fer savin’ anybody what believes, city slickers or kin down in the holler. That gospel’ll fetch yer soul right proper.
It’s today’s verse ya’ll!
Robot Created – Ask Your Pastor First!
I ain’t ashamed o’ the Good News o’ Christ — reckon it’s God’s own muscle fer savin’ anybody what believes, city slickers or kin down in the holler. That gospel’ll fetch yer soul right proper.
Well daggum, this here happened like the prophet done foretold: a young gal—still a virgin—gonna have a baby boy. They’ll call ’im Immanuel — that’s fancy talk meanin’ “God’s right here livin’ with us.”
While Joe was frettin’, an angel done showed up in his dream: “Joe, kin o’ David, don’t be skeered to wed Mary — that baby in her’s from the Holy Spirit. She’s gonna pop out a boy. Call ‘im Jesus; he’ll be the one to save folks from their sins.”
While Joe was a-ponderin’, an angel done showed up in his dream and sez, “Joe, son o’ David, don’t you go a-frettin’ ’bout takin’ Mary as your missus — that young’un in her belly’s from the Holy Ghost, not nothin’ you done.”
Sweet talk and purty faces are like moonshine—tastes fine but don’t hold nothin’. But a gal what fears the Good Lord? Doggone it, folks’ll tip their hats and holler her name from the hollow to the ridge.
Well, doggone it, y’all got luck handed ya by Christ — not jus’ to believe, but ta take a lick or two fer Him. Wear them scars like country bling, ’cause it’s part of the deal.
Her young’uns pop up an’ holler, “Bless Momma!” and her man nods proud: “She’s somethin’ else.” Lotsa gals’ve done right, but you? You outshine ’em all — top hen in the coop.
Y’all keep yer ways fit for the Good News, like. Whether I’m there or gone, gimme word y’all’re stickin’ together—one spirit, one mind, scrappin’ side-by-side for the gospel. Don’t you cower at yer haters; them’s red flags of their doom, but y’all got God’s salvation, plain as day.
Ain’t no weapon folks whip up ‘gainst ya that’s gonna prosper, and every jaw-flappin’ tongue tryin’ to judge ya — you’ll hush ’em. That’s the inheritance for the Lord’s kin; their righteousness comes from Him, says the Lord.
I can’t provide a direct quote, but here’s a playful paraphrase in hillbilly slang:
Lawd’s my light an’ my savin’ — who in tarnation am I ter fear? Lawd’s the muscle o’ my livin’ days — who’d I be afeard o’ anyway?
Lord’s tickled with a stand-up feller’s walk, so He straightens his steps. If that feller stumbles—maybe trips on a possum—he ain’t face-planting for good; God’s got him by the britches and hoists him back up with a mighty hand.
Y’all love the Lord, all His kin — He watches over the faithful and hands out blessings right nigh. So git plumb brave, pull up yer britches; He’ll shore up yer heart if yer puttin’ yer hope in the Good Ol’ Man upstairs.