Jesus…That's All

My morning began, unfortunately, as the sun pierced through the small weather-born cracks of the wooden makeshift door.  Lying motionless, not wanting to rise, the incessant snoring of those also cramped into the small shelter filled the room with great volume.  Still without movement, I continued to lay upon the tattered offering that some would dare to call a bed and just contemplated my life; the stupidity that accompanied my youth, the innumerable mistakes, and the untold lapses in judgement that ushered forth my current state of existence.  Sadly, I was beyond poor, beyond deprived, not simply in the meaningless realm of material substance but greater in the actual physical state of my decaying body, overtaken with leprosy that worsened with each passing day.  The leprosy issued forth a “casting out” from normal society, a hopelessness without end, the accompanying, inexplicable, loneliness which envelopes the whole of one’s life and ultimately the lingering, unwavering, literal death sentence.  Anger, frustration, self-inflicted pity and disappointment in myself had long since departed and I simply wept quietly.

Without warning, someone desperately rapped, with a sense of urgency, upon the wooden door.  A few seconds later, the shelter next to ours would experience the same hurried rapping upon their door.  I could hear the shuffling of the messenger’s feet begin to wane, along with the volume of each rap upon the doors as he or she worked their way down the row of homes.  Then a second person approached, almost as if they were following in the previous persons footsteps, shouting…He is coming, He is coming, He is on the outskirts of our encampment!  

I immediately arose, while others within my shelter refused to be stirred, grumbled under their breath and turned over in their beds seemingly angered at the unwanted intrusion. I knew who He was and I, without hesitation, ran out as fast as my deteriorated feet would take me, half naked, though I did not care, towards “the crossroad”, one denoting defined separation of clean versus unclean, that I knew He must pass by to enter into the village that had long since ostracized us.

A small group of “us” had assembled, no more than ten, and we stood, of course at a distance, awaiting His arrival close to our meager village.  In the distance, we saw Him and soon He would be near to our place of gathering.  He looked not as I imagined; He too looked poor in dress, yet His demeanor, coupled with a measured cadence revealed a confidence, a surety, and an evident “care and concern” for those that accompanied Him.

Now, He, within earshot and so very close, stopped almost immediately as those around me erupted with great volume, shouting “Jesus, Master, have mercy upon us”.  I, however, found myself unable to look upon Him and slowly dropped my head downward; I was ashamed, undeserving, and so unworthy, as I clearly felt the all-encompassing holiness that surrounded Him. 

My thoughts raced, my body trembled without constraint, and I cowered, sheepishly, and failed to utter a singular word. I wanted to run back and into my miserable existence without further delay.  I succumbed, once again to defeat, and began to slowly turn, desiring nothing more than to displace my despicable “self” far from that of His purity.  His voice, however, stopped me both in thought and further action.  I looked up once more, towards His presence and with the greatest of calm, with greater assurance and with equaled promise He said, “go show yourselves unto the priests”.  That was it.

An eerie peace fell, those around me now also silent, and we lingered, in a state of disbelief, dumbfounded and incapable of grasping or understanding the enormity of the brief encounter; we could only watch as He continued His journey with the same slowness of pace and soon disappeared out of sight.  Still, I stood, frozen in a moment of time, completely held by uncertainty, as the others began to speak amongst themselves; it was a conversation I was not privy to and eventually they, collectively, began to walk towards the village.  They, however, were not concerned with my accompaniment, yet I was compelled to follow them without reason.

One step, and yet another, ushered forth not only a nearing to the village, but something, not of this world touched me: an intimate caress, soft and so very tender to that of my skin.  It was if each step, one after the other, of simple obedience to His command, brought further intensified healing to my deteriorated body.  The leprosy, and its debilitating effects, had miraculously melted away and I found myself no longer, unclean.  Yet, as if the physical transformation were not enough, something infinitely more incredible swathed the entirety of my being; my sins, my shame, my guilt, my humiliation, and the sense of unworthiness, too diminished with the same warmth and intimacy.   I felt…reborn!

The others, now quite a distance from me, must have been experiencing the same, as they jumped with jubilation, screamed with excitement, and quickly dispersed, one from another, towards unknown destinations.

I, however, knew where I must go even though I felt a sense of disobedience.  I would not go to the priests quite yet, for there was another that I would need to seek firstly.  I ran, with great resolve, looking for Him, and soon would voice with great volume, no longer holding my tongue, my praise, and fell, prostrate, without care, upon my face and at His feet. I felt, once again, the same gentle touch upon my head and He said, “Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger…Arise, go thy way: thy faith has made thee whole”.

Father, yet again, we are found undone.  We all, without prejudice, have too sinned, have made horrible decisions at times, participated in unmentionable atrocities, fulfilled self-indulgences with little regard to the hurt inflicted upon others, and found/find ourselves, lost, hurting, hopeless, alone, shackled, bound, debilitated and weakened by the wiles of the enemy.  Yet, your goodness leads many to repentance, your great balm in the form of sacrificial love, your Son Jesus, bridges the chasm of separation and we find ourselves, too, very near to thee.  I do wonder, as we start each day, if we, as the nine, are too encumbered by life?  We accept the miracle of salvation, yet life and its pursuits seem to take priority all too often and the day slips away without intimate time with you.  Rather, should we not consider the alternative, with unhurried reflection and emulate the one? To seek you firstly each day, to fall at your feet, with a heart bursting forth with thanksgiving and praise and an expectation, that He too would speak to each one of us with that calming, yet assuring voice…  “Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole”.  That we, with great urgency, would not simply accept and walk in the truth of the latter half of the statement but more importantly the beginning… “ARISE, GO THY WAY”!  Why, one might ask?  I clearly remember Father, one beautiful morning, when receiving the body and blood, in Jesus’ remembrance, that you would not let the moment pass without speaking to me intimately.  You said, not audibly but with great clarity, “Daniel, you need to understand something…Where you go, I go”.  I wept that morning, uncontrollably, to the revelation, feeling, as probably most of us do…unworthy to represent all that you are in the flesh that envelopes us. Yet, let today, be the day, that we step out, in obedience, to a darkened world, emitting a great light, knowing with certainty, you have empowered us, to be sons and daughters in your stead with your hands of compassion, willingly touching either in word or service, to all that you would bring into our lives; that they might experience “Jesus…that’s all” through us!

We thank you Father, as we fall at your feet, accept your loving touch and ARISE as you commanded!  We love you.

Daniel        

Luke 17:11-19 “And it came to pass, as he went to Jerusalem, that he passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. And as he entered into a certain village, there met him ten men that were lepers, which stood afar off: And they lifted up their voices, and said, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us. And when he saw them, he said unto them, Go show yourselves unto the priests.  And it came to pass, that, as they went, they were cleansed. And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, and fell down on his face at his feet, giving him thanks: and he was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering said, were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger. And he said unto him, Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole”.

I drifted in and out of sleep; simply incapable of getting comfortable as both the unforgiving mattress, its smell equally disturbing, and my broken body stubbornly refused any resemblance of deep sleep though I was utterly exhausted.  Laying quietly, in the crisp, biting, coolness of the morning, my inner thoughts and the outward manifestations of numerous carnal beatings, a singular stoning, and the five horrific Jewish floggings, clearly revealed the ever-present reality of my shattered physical being; my body scarred with scars upon scars, held my skin taut and exasperated the unending struggle for slumber.

Lacking fortitude and or desire to remain a moment longer, I slowly rose to my feet, lightly placed the tattered blanket upon and around my shoulders and shuffled towards the small desk, tucked carefully, near to the small window that would offer some light during the day.  But, unfortunately, in the early morning hours it only ushered forth an unwanted cool breeze that even the makeshift weather worn wooden shutters could not withstand.

Sitting down ever so gingerly, I lit the small candle that illuminated the once darkened desktop.  The flicker of the candle always created an eerie atmospheric dance upon the walls, and I sat looking deeply into the orchestration of its offering.  I silently remained motionless, allowing Him access to my inner thoughts that I knew were within moments and soon to be borne as the awaiting papyrus rustled ever so slightly upon the desk breaking the silence that held the meager room.

I filled the small ink well with a bit of ink, dipped the freshly cut reed into the well and placed it gently upon the papyrus.  My hands, not nearly as steady as of late, also disfigured from prior persecutions, took His thoughts, coupled with that of mine, and painstakingly scratched each letter, each word, until before me, rested His presence upon papyrus.  With the deterioration of my physically aging body, I sensed these letters would far surpass the reaches of my missionary travels; surely that of my existence as well, and their importance, though increasingly difficult and draining to place upon papyrus, would survive and linger in the hands of future generations of believers to come.

I placed the reed down, re-wrapped the blanket snuggly around my upper torso once again, and reread that which I had just written.  A tear, welled up, and then another, until before I knew it, the papyrus became inundated with the volume of each singular tear…

“And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.  For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.  And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions. In distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong”.

Father, what a beautiful expression of your love for Paul.  In his broken state, surely both physically and at times emotionally as well, in his professed weakness, your perfection, your complete abiding within, was ever so present in his life. We can sense it so very deeply in each word, as “self” is all but absent and removed in Paul’s later life. I am certain we too have been in this place of desperation calling upon the Lord for intervention, when life and its difficulties, whether it be disease, sickness, loneliness, desperation, or hopelessness, manifest themselves. These unexpected, unforeseen trials and tribulations come upon us all, relentless in their pursuit of our peace, our happiness, our joy, and our love. At times, their victories weaken our resolve, plague us with uncertainty until we, over time, shrink, lessened if you will, and become incapacitated in their grip.  We must, with deliberate perseverance, get alone, nearer to you, willing to tarry long, in that place of intimacy, and expect nothing less than the very essence of Christ, and your unfathomable presence. You long, greatly, to administer the balm of your unconditional love, with a caress not of this world, pure, tender, and specifically intentional to each of our individual needs. As with Paul, we too shall emerge stronger, our focus shifted from that of “self” to that of “self-sacrifice”, serving and loving others, that they too might experience His fullness, His strength and the rest that accompanies its perfection. Oh Lord, scripture floods my soul…

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth froth much fruit”.

“I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.”

“To live is Christ, to die is gain”.

Father, today, we yield back to thee, willingly, all that hinders our walk, placing our “selves”, our apprehensions, our fears, our worries, each and every concern directly at the foot of your cross. That we might we rise, emblazoned with nothing less than Paul’s description of himself…

“though I be nothing”

Daniel

It had been over a year since I had last encountered Him.  Though I was excited, thoroughly, to see Him once more, my heart, now filling quickly with anguish, sank as He looked so very tired, thinner than I remembered Him, His walk a bit slower and more labored. Yet, still, He smiled, and His countenance ushered forth an inexplicable atmospheric change as He sauntered into our little village in Bethany.  There was an emission, seemingly imperceptible, hidden from the limitations of flesh, as all that He was, permeated the atmosphere with each defined step into the smallness of our modest world.

Soon, or rather still almost immediately, barely into the village, with the noon day sun persistent in its ferocity, He found himself surrounded by the masses; throngs of people needing a touch of His hand, as was I just a year earlier, from a myriad of infirmities.  They were screaming with desperation, crying hysterically, many incapable of containing frustrations amongst themselves while others, more reserved, subdued, and humbled innocently begged, sheepishly murmuring incomprehensible longings for His attention.   He, with a calming demeanor, simply lifted up His hand and the riotous madness began to hold its volume and a quiet filled the air.  He spoke, ever so softly but with great authority, and soon a long line formed in front of Him.  Without further hesitation, He began to listen, with focused intention, and instantaneously either spoke or touched each one in need that stood before Him.  The endless compassion with which He labored was incredible to witness as one hour folded into the next. 

Later in the evening, unable to pull away from the encounters, I looked upon Him once more as the line disappeared, as had the sun, finally into the darkened night.  He was exhausted and though He attempted to portray otherwise, it was beyond obvious as He made His way to the home of Simon the Leper.  Sitting there, alone, in the now still serenity of the evening, my inner thoughts and the events of the day brought forth a crescendo of tears that refused to dissipate.  I knew, with certainty, what I must do.

Standing now at the door of Simon, I heard, though faintly, the muffled voices of men, and I wondered if I had acted too quickly and without much thought. Yet, there I was, my body quaking, almost uncontrollably, and longing for one more opportunity, just one more intimate moment with Him.  I tapped lightly, unsure if anyone would even answer until the creak of the hinges gave way to Simon himself opening the door.  His bewilderment was evident as he looked upon me but when he noticed that which I held, he politely stepped aside, and without words being given volume, I slowly made my way into his humble home as the conversations ceased and all eyes fell upon me. The flickering of the candles, dancing within the room, brought a complete calm as I neared to Jesus.  His gaze captivated the fullness of my being as I stood, now motionless, in front of Him; I was overwhelmed, our roles now reversed, in deep contemplation as to what He must have felt, with each personal encounter, as they stood with great expectations before Him.

The quiet of the room, now interrupted, with the breaking of the alabaster box, soon found itself overwhelmed with the aroma of its contents.  Gently, trying to control the tears that erupted once more, my body still in a state of tremble, I began to anoint Jesus. Consenting, He closed His eyes, and I witnessed, with the lighting dim at best, a singular tear form and fall into the crevices of his worn face and disappearing into His beard. He proceeded to tilt his head backward just slightly, allowing all of the oil to flow down over his face and beard, down his neck and over the totality of His clothing and any other exposed flesh.  He sat, frozen, without motion, and gravity took the flow of oil down ever so deliberately and upon Him.  A tremendous peace, a greater love, equal to that of the encompassing aroma, filled the entirety of the small enclosure and we all basked in its wonderment…    

Father, I am so captivated by the story of this woman.  There is so very much within the words written by man; yet the spaces between those words hold and allow for further meditations, if we permit, to experience the atmospheric details that engage all of our senses.  Firstly, a slight glimpse yields the backdrop until each sense, that of smell, of sound, of taste, and of touch ushers us completely into the midst of the story.  Father, we sit this morning in your presence, and we find ourselves transported back in time, re-living the encounters, as each moment tenderly unfolds before us.  “And being in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as He sat at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious, and she broke the box, and poured it on his head”.  A single word, in plain sight, yet hidden amongst the volume of text, has leapt off the pages of old and issues forth a pause; “broke”.  Immediately Jesus appears, in the forefront of our thoughts, and images begin to take form.  His humanity, on full display, reveals the toil and suffering of daily life with exhaustion, with hunger, with thirst, with homelessness, with rejection, with indifference, with denial, and that of being alone.  Isaiah paints us a portrait of Christ, a masterpiece, without canvas or color rivaled by none…  

Isaiah 53:3-8, “He is despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.  Surely, he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God and afflicted.  But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed.  All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.  He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.  He was taken from prison and from judgment: and who shall declare his generation?  For he was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgression of my people was he stricken”.  

Finally, Isaiah, with both light and heavy brush strokes exposes the brutality of one broken; His agonizing last hours, humiliated, beaten, scourged, yet embracing the cross of reconciliation, bridging the chasm of separation between man and God, with His very life, willingly obedient to the breaking.  Isaiah 52:14, “As many were astonished at thee, his visage was so marred more than any other man, and his form more than the sons of men”.

The breaking of the alabaster box, by the humbled woman personified the essence of Christ.  The action embodied a foretaste to that of Jesus’ future both in the physical breaking of his body and also the release, an aromatic expulsion, of the characteristics attributed to His earthly life while painfully languishing, alone, upon the cross; grace, mercy, compassion, kindness, forgiveness, sympathy, and of course unconditional love for any and all that would receive…

We must, remain here Father, for a moment, maybe longer, basking in the release, taking in the fullness of the sacrifice of Jesus; it is too wonderful, yet painful as well, to simply proceed without pause.

Questions soon bear thought.  Are sufferings, the compilation of agonizing trials, numerous tribulations, countless struggles, and innumerable life tragedies, prerequisites for the formation of the contents within the alabaster box?  If so, though they be grievous, should we too not embrace them, knowing full well that with a touch of your hand in our lives, that which is seemingly unbearable at times, shall be used to birth and create within us the very attributes of your son?  What shall emerge from and out of the clay? 

And yet there is still more if we linger a bit longer within the realm of the story.  “Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her”.  Is it coincidence that Jesus’ own words, thoughtfully spoken, exclude the name of the woman?   As was Jesus in the end, unrecognizable, in His eyes she too would be the same.  This should be us as well!  Unwilling to listen to the world and its lies that self and its fulfillment, regardless of the cost to others, should be the driving force in our lives; unfortunately, and in many cases, the fruit borne yields ego, pride, and a sense of superiority.  Many suffer today, finding ourselves in circumstances we thought unimaginable, attempting to endure yet feeling defeated, lost, alone, and without hope.  But today, at this very moment, we shall adopt a new mindset.  Father, we too embrace the sufferings, we too prefer to be unrecognizable, without name recognition, vessels, alabaster boxes, held with great care, filled with nothing less than Jesus Christ, willing, expecting and longing to be broken, at the appropriate time, and upon your guidance, releasing the aromatic fragrance of your Son in abundance, once again, to the masses, to both believer and non-believer alike, and for your glory.

We love you so very much!

Daniel

As we, my fellow disciple and I, approached the prison cell which held the man we followed, John the Baptist, our eyes struggled to adjust from the light of the day to the ever-increasing darkness as we walked deeper into the confines of his imprisonment; the intensity of the heat outside exaggerated the stench of human feces and urine that hung thickly within.  I tried to reduce the ferocity of the odor by draping my cloak across my face, but it was futile in its attempt; it was inescapable.  My mouth, now inexplicably dry, was in complete contrast to my clothing as sweat poured forth from my body drenching them almost to the full.

Standing now directly in front of his cell, I called out John’s name with a tone that mimicked my emotional mindset, shallow and lifeless, and with no response was forced again, with greater volume, to speak his name once more.  In the darkness, sauntering ever so slowly towards us, he emerged looking nothing like the man that spoke with great authority just months earlier. His frayed and tattered clothing exposed the depravity that enveloped him.  He had always been thin, but now he appeared emaciated, his hair was long and matted, his skin was spotted red with bug bites and flies swarmed around him with no regard for their landing sites; they were on his eyelids, beside his lips and were simply relentless in their attack upon him.  He was, somehow, unaware of their annoying existence? 

I stood, frozen and in disbelief, not knowing what to say, trying to make sense of all the emotions that had come to the forefront with great intensity; utter sadness, grief, anger, resentment, and frustration, each singularly, permeating my existence.  Looking at John, my inner thoughts quickly turned, wondering, what must he have felt?  Isolated, alone and reduced to something less than human.  

The eerie quiet, it too hanging in the air, was broken and his soft, almost imperceptible deeply wounded words revealed the totality of his demise.  Would you please go to Jesus and ask, “art thou He that should come or look we for another”?

He said nothing else, simply turned, as if defeated, and shuffled to the darkest corner of the enclosure, out of sight, and to his place of secluded isolation. 

Upon my return to find Jesus, I once again found myself in deep thought, speaking nothing to my friend, but rather recounting all that we had witnessed and experienced with John.  I could not help but wonder, how had he, John, fallen into such “doubt” after one of the most intimate encounters with Jesus?  It did not make any sense.  The day, that day, reverberated within my innermost being…

John, as with many other days, was baptizing those seeking and needing repentance in the Jordan river.  However, it soon bore a cataclysmic encounter as Jesus himself approached near to our location.  John, in an instant and with great volume and certainty announced, “Behold, the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world”.  Of course, the Sadducees and the Pharisees present grumbled at the revelation yet a quiet fell upon the entirety of the masses as Jesus slowly waded into the water. The atmosphere seemingly changed, inexplicably, as John and Jesus spoke with one another quietly; their conversation was intimate and incapable of being heard by the masses. 

John carefully proceeded to baptize Jesus and when he lifted Him out of the water, John, rather than looking at Jesus, immediately looked towards the heavens, as if mesmerized by something we were not privy to seeing with our eyes.  His gaze would fall slowly back and upon Jesus and they stood staring at one another with nothing being spoken between them.  Jesus, before exiting the river, pulled John close and to His being and embraced him, not a normal embrace but one with a tenderness that was filled with love.

Later in the day, as we sat around a small campfire eating our meager meal for the evening, John would expound on the intimate moments of Jesus’ baptism.  He, with the greatest of calm, said that when Jesus came out of the water, the clouds began to shift and the heavens opened to the full and a white dove, emerged, slowly, and lighted down upon him; an atmospheric changing peace, also inexplicable, accompanied the dove’s arrival.  Yet there was more he noted.  John hesitated for a moment, silence fell, and we waited, our eyes fixated upon him, waiting for what to was to be spoken next.  John revealed, tenderly, that what happened next brought clarity, immense joy and a tinge of fear all at the same time.  From the same heavens came the audible statement… “This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.”   We sat, in the confines of quiet, as no one uttered a word.

The stir of a crowd brought me back to the present as we found Jesus ministering to a smaller group of people.  I waited patiently, fearful to be honest, until the time seemed right to inquire as John had requested.  I could barely look into his eyes, that of Jesus, a bit embarrassed, yet he knew that something stirred within me and gently reached forth his hand to my shoulder and an immediate calm fell upon me.  I, sheepishly, spoke briefly of our time with John the Baptist and he listened intently, His attention fully focused upon my words, and I came forth with the request; “Art thou he that should come or look we for another”?  Jesus, his eyes telling of his inner hurt said, “Go your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard; how that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached.  And blessed is he, whosoever, shall not be offended in me”.    

Father, this story, has caused me to contemplate so very much.  How did John the Baptist, one of the many heroes of our faith, find himself in such a place of “doubt”?   His experiential knowledge with your Son Jesus was beyond that of ours for a certainty, yet, in the midst of a horribly dire situation, one which we cannot begin to fathom, was found questioning all that he believed and had attached his life to?  We must recognize, sooner, much sooner rather than later, the source of this “doubt” and its foundation.  You Father, heard, most assuredly to your dismay and disappointment, the very first question we see in scripture as it came forth from the subtlety of the snake to that of Eve in reference to the tree of life… “yea, hath God said, ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden”?  Eve, in her defense, was not with Adam when the command was given and that uncertainty, that hint of deflection, was carefully placed into that of her mind.  Maybe we should not be too hard on ourselves when we also are found wanting, unsure, with so many questions unanswered, as we traverse life, at times, so very difficult, alone, isolated from the world and without hope as “doubt” clouds our thought process.  I fear it has been used, this tactic, upon each and every one of us with great success?!  There is yet more Father, within this story, that I wonder if we have overlooked; you have allowed me to catch a bit of a glimpse, with your eyes, a truth that has eluded me in the past and it has taken me to my knees with its revelation.   Jesus, could have, when asked for clarification, taken it upon himself to go to John in person but rather chose to send forth the two inquiring disciples back with His answer to John.  Father, should this not be us?  Firstly, finding ourselves, seeking you out specifically, asking you questions in the intimacy of our time with thee.  Secondly, and possibly of equal importance, if not greater, ever ready, once we have been given intimate revelations, to make ourselves available, going to those that are in a place of debilitating doubt, no matter the cause, and listen, intently, to their innermost hurts and uncertainties, and with great care, encourage, with great resolve, speaking with surety your great promises.  I shall close Father with this verse, “Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them, and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body”.  We must be ever careful not to limit the breadth of its scope, reducing its reach to just that of a physical confinement.  Bonds shall come in many forms, for many of us emotionally and mentally, yet they shackle, impede, and hinder those imprisoned with the same ruthless and persistent cruelty.  Let us look beyond ourselves Lord, today, and inspire one that is in desperate need of your love.  We thank you for allowing us to walk in your stead, and though we all, as vessels, may be marred, chipped, and cracked, it is through those imperfections that the light of your Son can shine to a world that needs to see and feel His love.

Matthew 3:13-17 “Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him. But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me? And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered him. And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him: And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased”.

Luke 7: 19-23 “And John calling unto him two of his disciples sent them to Jesus, saying, Art thou he that should come? or look we for another? When the men were come unto him, they said, John Baptist hath sent us unto thee, saying, Art thou he that should come? or look we for another? And in that same hour he cured many of their infirmities and plagues, and of evil spirits; and unto many that were blind he gave sight. Then Jesus answering said unto them, go your way, and tell John what things ye have seen and heard; how that the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached. And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me”.

Daniel

My spirit stirred greatly.  The words being spoken were unlike anything I had ever heard; the absence of shame, condemnation, and judgement bewildered me.  There was no rigidity to His words and the endless, strict, commands of adherence to the law were, almost purposefully, unmentioned.  Rather, He, with the greatest of calm and serenity, delivered compassionate thoughts, one after another, each one hanging in the air, as if to be breathed in by us all.  I was mesmerized and though I knew that He was speaking to the totality of those within the synagogue, I noticed that He, over and over again, looked directly at me, as if beyond my eyes and into my very soul.  This was so foreign to me…

I had, for eighteen years, never been looked upon with such direct eye contact; my strangely distorted body would not allow such.  The deformity, bending me from the waist downward, happened gradually but over a short span of time.  The simple act of walking would become both laborious physically and emotionally.  Periodically, and only when absolutely necessary, I would twist and contort my neck to look upwards, yet it was simply too painful to do so often.  However, familiarity, with that of the terrain of my small village, would manifest itself and even without looking up I could, traversing with great caution, determine the paths that I must endure to arrive at my intended destinations; each crevice, each crack, and each stone covered wall became individually recognizable to that of my limited sight spectrum and also to the gentle touch of my hands rendering “the way”.   If that were not enough to bear, the mental deformity within, especially in the early years, ushered forth a pain incomparable to that of the physical.  I could not, in my hunched over existence, see people looking at me, yet I knew they were, as their whispers would reveal the depravity of their thoughts towards me; my elderly parents, also recipients, simply disappeared into the depths of isolation as they were unable to process the heart searing defamations dispensed without mercy towards their daughter.  It was during those moments, bent over, walking ever so slowly in the realm of loneliness, that I was thankful that no one could see my face as the tears cascaded down, without end, finding their way just before my next intended step. I carefully and with great intention, stepped upon each one, attempting to diminish the pain and somehow leave it all behind.  Over time, though I was alone, as each year slipped into the next, I managed to merely tune out the tones of their judgment and rather listened for the sounds of the village, a compilation of noises, that of daily life, merging together to create an orchestration of harmony and to my great surprise, peace, He, would finally find me. 

Our eyes met once again, yet this time they lingered and He became quiet, as if incapable of speaking any further.  An uneasiness filled the candlelit room, flickers of light dancing upon the backdrop of the walls, and He simply gazed longer still at me.  I too was unable to look away, my eyes longing for such tenderness, holding steadfast and without care as our eyes remained fixed upon one another.  He then, with great authority, yet calm, beckoned me to come to Him.  The atmosphere in the room was one of great peace and without delay I gingerly arose, slowly traversing, incapable of being hurried, until I found myself, staring at His feet.  The tears, again, would begin to cascade down yet this time they found themselves dripping upon His sandals and I was embarrassed as to the volume of their existence.  The eerie quiet, only interrupted periodically by my muffled crying, soon found His voice once more with the same level of compassion… “woman, thou are loosed from thine iniquity”.  Without expectation, He bent down, softly cupped my chin in His warm hand, His other hand lighting upon my shoulder, and gently began to lift me upwards, slowly, deliberately, out of my warped crouch, until, I stood upright. I was overcome, enveloped entirely, with a love that had alluded me for so many years.

Father, this story, so full of inexplicable resolve in the midst of a dire situation, has captivated my thoughts these last few weeks.  I have wept much and do so even now as I tap away at the keyboard before me; can you, please, use the tears that come forth to wash away the grime that inhibits the way we see in our flesh?  I do not think it a coincidence that you were there, in that synagogue, and specifically for the young woman.  The way you see/saw, with such compassion, with such mercy, and with greater love, simply alludes us/me Father.  I am fearful, that we are limited greatly by the blinders of “self”, and that our scope of sight remains hindered by its rule in our lives?  Yet, I know with time, if we present ourselves to you each day, in a most humbled state, unwilling to see with eyes unhindered a day longer, that you too will grant us this same eyesight.  We realize it is a process, one that cannot nor can be achieved in an instant but rather takes time, time with you, time in your word, allowing you complete access to areas that only you can see unobstructed.  We/I am getting old.  Time, as a youth seemingly infinite, unavoidably slips slowly away.  We must, as the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, constrain you, to tarry a bit longer with each of us, individually, in the quiet of our day, so that we too, as we take you in, as willing recipients of communion, your body and your blood, might in the near future be as they were…“their eyes were opened, and they knew him”!  Father, is this selfish?  We think not, for there are those in our midst, that need to be seen, that need to be acknowledged with a simple word, with eye contact, or a touch, that certainly is not of this world cloaked in flesh but rather pure in its form, that of your unfathomable love Lord.  Stir our hearts, to extremes we have not yet encountered, that we might walk in the fulfillment of your call…to be the light, the salt of the earth, so very brilliant, so very thick that when unsuspecting encounters arise, they inquire as to its essence.  That they too might experience you, Jesus…that’s all!

Daniel

Luke 13:10-16 “And he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And, behold, there was a woman which had a spirit of infirmity eighteen years, and was bowed together, and could in no wise lift up herself. And when Jesus saw her, he called her to him, and said unto her, Woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity. And he laid his hands on her: and immediately she was made straight, and glorified God. And the ruler of the synagogue answered with indignation, because that Jesus had healed on the sabbath day, and said unto the people, there are six days in which men ought to work: in them therefore come and be healed, and not on the sabbath day. The Lord then answered him, and said, Thou hypocrite, doth not each one of you on the sabbath loose his ox or his ass from the stall, and lead him away to watering? And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the sabbath day”?

10/5/2023

As I looked down upon my son, he lay motionless, his skeletal system holding nothing more than a thin layer of skin; he was, as was I, physically incapable of little exertion.  My clothes, dirty and disheveled, hung loosely and I realized that this morning could possibly be our last.  In the quiet of our home, holding my son tenderly, I replayed the loss of my husband, the difficulties that followed and the senses of “alone”, the feeling of helplessness and feeling powerless over that of my daily existence.  An eerie quiet held the small home and I could not help but remember the encounter, weeks earlier, also within the quiet, the day I heard with clarity, a still small voice, yet possessing great authority.  “Sustain the man that shall come to thee”.  Then and even more so now, I wondered if my mind, with lack of nourishment, was issuing a mental breakdown. 

My son gently moved as I laid him upon the makeshift bed on the dirt floor, one of our remaining possessions as everything and anything of value had been previously sold, and I heard the hunger pang with its churning and volume.  My heart simply broke, once more, and I sat beside him gently caressing his messy hair away from his eyes; the sadness was overwhelming, yet I was void of tears, as they were long ago dispersed as I came to grips with our nearing demise.  I lifted my withered frame, slowly, and walked towards the small barrel that held the meal for bread and the cruse of oil and knew, clearly, what would be found; it was only enough for one last humble offering for each of us.

The cool of the morning, once enjoyed, now bit with ferocity as my emaciated body lacked any form of insulation as I shuffled sluggishly near to our home in search of a few small pieces of kindling for a small fire.  In the smallness of my mind, it would be my last act of service, preparing the two small cakes for our final meal and we, my son and I, nameless and invisible to the eyes of the world, would succumb to the reality which awaited us.

I was close to my home when I heard from behind, “fetch me, I pray thee, a little water in a vessel, that I may drink”.  I turned ever so slowly, unsure if I had heard correctly and wondered if my mind was in fact playing with me.  Before me, stood, also a bit disheveled, a man of simplicity; he too obviously had been as I, lacking an abundance of sustenance and I felt obligated, though somehow thankful, that I might fulfill his menial request.  I spoke not a word but rather gave him a glance and a small shake of my head that would indicate my acceptance of his bidding.  As I placed my hand upon the handle of the door, it now possessing a bit of warmth, wavering upon its hinges and creaking from neglect and age, the man called once again and said, “bring me, I pray thee, a morsel of bread in thine hand”. 

The voice, now as if I was hearing it for the first time, but not audibly, flooded my thoughts once more: “sustain the man that shall come to thee”. 

Father, I have purposedly ended the carefully orchestrated, preplanned encounter, possibly too soon, between the widow and Elijah.  There is just too much that a short contemplation can glean from the nine verses encompassing the entirety of the story.  Witnessing a brief glimpse, a very short moment through the window of her life I have, as the norm, been found wanting; reflecting endlessly upon the unsuspecting, widowed, nameless, mother in the midst of an extremely trying time.  I am quite sure we cannot even begin to understand the pain, the suffering, the utter heartache she dealt with as she and her son withered away to the point of death.  Yet, amid this compilation of tragedy, we behold her, even at the expense of her last remaining strength, serve another.  The lack of “self” is wholly incomprehensible.  Recently, with great care, you gently exposed my lack as we met, with one another in the quiet of our time, the fullness of this thought.  Jesus himself, so very close to death, intimately sharing his last moments with those closest to him, humbles himself; he lays down his garments, takes a towel, pours water into a basin, and with the greatest of care that one can imagine, washes the feet, one disciple at a time, as a most privileged act of service.  Then Jesus, the word of God says… “I am among you as he that serveth”.  Father, it is too much!  The words drip with such a sense of “selflessness” that I fear attainment is impossible.  Our flesh surely hinders greatly but oh scripture, so rich, so very plenteous in encouragement, through the stories of others that journeyed before us, reveal otherwise!  Yet, not just in scripture, for I am certain we all have observed one, a selfless individual, live this out.  Father, for me, as I am sure you knew her intimately, was my grandmother, Ruby Murphy; she did so Lord.  Widowed at the age of 46, with five children, so very poor in the eyes of the world but I know you steadfastly witnessed firsthand, as with many of us that would be so fortunate to know her, the endless acts of service to any that would grace her humble home.  She radiated the love of your son, proclaiming Jesus boldly the entirety of her life, yet not so much with the volume of her voice but rather with that of her life, and like your description of John the Baptist she too “was a burning and shining light”. 

Father, thank you, for your compassionate ability to teach us with great care, to love us endlessly and without condition as we seek the intimacy you so long desire.  As each day passes, even as our eyes begin to dim from age, I am confident, we see a bit more clearly.  Might we all find ourselves, in your stead, with this verse etched deeply into our very hearts, and with unwavering determination, to live it out daily, with great expectation, as opportunity presents itself in service, as if it were unto you…

“I am among you as he that serveth”! 

Daniel

1 Kings 17:8-16 “And the word of the Lord came unto him, saying, Arise, get thee to Zarephath, which belongeth to Zidon, and dwell there: behold, I have commanded a widow woman there to sustain thee.  So he arose and went to Zarephath. And when he came to the gate of the city, behold, the widow woman was there gathering of sticks: and he called to her, and said, fetch me, I pray thee, a little water in a vessel, that I may drink.  And as she was going to fetch it, he called to her, and said, bring me, I pray thee, a morsel of bread in thine hand.  And she said, As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse: and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die.  And Elijah said unto her, Fear not; go and do as thou hast said: but make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and for thy son.  For thus saith the Lord God of Israel, the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day that the Lord sendeth rain upon the earth.  And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat many days.  And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by Elijah.”

07/19/2023

Though my temporary lodging was on the outskirts of the village, the news quickly spread within and without that, the ruler of the synagogue, Jairus’ daughter had fallen gravely ill.  In the smallness of my trivial existence, I typically would not have given a second thought to the demise of this young girl but her age, that of twelve, beckoned my innermost thoughts with remembrance.  The small lone olive tree, it too out of place, offered a bit of shade from the now stifling heat and in my self-imposed seclusion, coupled with that of the law of Moses requiring separation as I remained in a state of being “unclean”, I tearfully began to recollect “twelve years” and the intensity of its pain thrust upon a once young, energetic, happy girl.  The initial small trickle of blood, the first signs of my menstrual cycle, brought an intense excitement of becoming a young woman, yet the trickle soon gave way to an uncontrollable, unending flow of blood that simply ceased to waiver in its continual outpouring; hour upon hour, day after day, until the months gave way to years.  Each year a replay of the last until I was physically broken and emotionally scarred; emaciated from pangs of unfulfilled hunger, homeless as my own family disowned me, an abyss of uncertainty, depression, anxiety and an all-consuming heartache as I had long since relinquished thoughts of marriage, children, and any normalcy of life.

The tears and their warmth now flowing freely, mimicked, in a much smaller way, the blood that poured forth from within and its intensity once again needed my full attention as it ushered me back into the “now” of my reality.  I could not help but notice the contrast of the deep crimson red upon the backdrop of my pale, white skin.  The heat of the day exasperated my blood issue and the odor, one which I had become painfully accustomed to, seemed exceedingly pungent as I sat, intentionally still and with restrained movement, hoping to minimize the stream and its relentless inundation.

To my surprise and completely out of the normal routines of the day, I witnessed a couple people, then a few more, until it seemed as if the entire village had passed me by, distantly of course, working their way down to the sea as his name, that of Jesus, the miracle worker, created a frenzy of excitement anticipating his arrival.  I had longed, so deeply, for a possible encounter with him and now to imagine he might be so very close was beyond my comprehension.  An eerie quiet hung in the air without interruption until I sensed a stir in the atmosphere itself; the quiet soon gave way to minimal sound in the distance and within a few moments I witnessed the entirety of the village, and then some, clinging to a man I presumed to be Jesus…it had to be him?!  I was taken aback when they neared the proximity of the lone olive tree and further still myself as he obviously was unaware of the realm of “unclean” that he soon would be encroaching upon.

Then, to our astonishment, Jairus came out of the village, almost running with a sense of purpose and simply fell down with a humility that was rare to behold of any man much less him.  Though I knew with a certainty that he was pleading with Jesus to heal his daughter, my thoughts were inward, self-centered, and horribly selfish as I desperately felt an inexplicable urge to approach him; but how?  I knew that as soon as I dared stand, the cascade of crimson would flow with great volume and I would have but a brief moment before those that were repulsed at my very existence would rail against me with great contempt.  Without any additional consideration I arose and began to push my way through the throng of people, no longer caring about how they might feel regarding my issue.  I thought, “if I may touch his clothes, I shall be made whole.”  At last, I was within arm’s length, and I reached forth my hand and barely grazed his cloak with a simple touch as he passed by.

Immediately I sensed a power run through the very confines of my flesh and instantaneously felt the flow of blood cease for the first time in 12 years…

Father, this story, one of inexplicable pain and suffering, almost hidden uncannily within another passage, and in the eyes of some of lessor importance than the raising of Jairus daughter from death, has caused me much inward examination these last few weeks.  I fear, greatly, that I am missing what you desire to be spoken but nevertheless, I tap away knowing you will reveal the truths you want to be gleaned from the life of another “unnamed” woman.  There are countless stories of your son, Jesus, “touching” the many He would encounter, healing with great compassion, withholding nothing from those that longed for His touch.

Yet here, we see very clearly, a woman so very ashamed, so desperate, so embarrassed, so humbled that a face-to-face encounter seemed an impossibility, but her faith, though limited surely at times over her years, non-existent during others, would propel her “to reach out and touch you.”  Your son was astonished, stopped in his very path, for he knew that there was one that had acted upon a faith He encountered so rarely.  And yet, I sense there is more, much more, obscured from a casual reading and meditation; I must admit most humbly, that I am afraid that this next thought might be taken out of context and mistakenly tinged with that of ego. However, I trust completely that You, the word of God, can and will transform it in the mind of man with the level of sincere humility and meekness with which it is offered.

Father, are we, each one of us, not Jesus?

…The questions emerge; are our lives, each one individually, indicative of Jesus dwelling richly within and emitting without, from us, the light of your son?  Can a man, a woman, that is surrounded by the evils of this world, especially that of “self” attain, in such a short life span, levels of attractiveness to that of Jesus?  Oh, to walk on this earth, with such unconditional love, unlimited peace, enduring patience, boundless mercy, endless compassion, and limitless kindness.  There are those perishing, withering away slowly without the knowledge of your Son, even at this very moment, in dark places, in fear, barely holding on, depressed, without a friend, without a family, dejected and cowering in isolation; they are absent from the desires of your heart for their lives.  I know that must absolutely break your heart, and I wonder…does it break ours?  Surely, we must hold some responsibility in this Lord?  Why are those in need of your touch, or equally important, those willing “to reach out to touch”, not doing so?  Are we perceived as elevated and aloof, just too busy, sadly indifferent, woefully unaware, thronged as well by the masses, and simply incapable of sensing the smallest of touch from someone in need?  Forgive us.

Father, we have “boldly entered into the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need” with but a few questions this morning.  We end, Father, with this final thought…in the quiet of the day, when we choose to be alone with you, tarrying still longer in times of contemplation, as we reach out in pursuit of intimacy with you, that you would in turn, with the greatest of caress, reach back to us, revealing areas in our lives that need your touch.  Time, as with each breath, passes, never to be reclaimed and we implore you Father, with the same level of desperation considered today, to speak to us clearly, for we realize our lives are but a vapor.

We love you Lord!

Daniel

Mark 5:21-34  “ And when Jesus was passed over again by ship unto the other side, much people gathered unto him: and he was nigh unto the sea. And, behold, there cometh one of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name; and when he saw him, he fell at his feet,And besought him greatly, saying, My little daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live. And Jesus went with him; and much people followed him, and thronged him. And a certain woman, which had an issue of blood twelve years, and had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse, when she had heard of Jesus, came in the press behind, and touched his garment. For she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole. And straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up; and she felt in her body that she was healed of that plague. And Jesus, immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in the press, and said, who touched my clothes?And his disciples said unto him, thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, who touched me? And he looked round about to see her that had done this thing. But the woman fearing and trembling, knowing what was done in her, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. And he said unto her, Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace and be whole of thy plague.”

09/28/2022

The bed nearly entombed me; once again I had become a hostage to my thoughts, and I languished, for hours, in the eerie quiet of the darkened room.  The life I lived, for self and self only, no matter the cost for or to others, friends and family alike, dispensed me, sooner than it should have to this place of confinement; I had learned well, from my earthly father, the ways of debauchery, and it only seemed fitting that I should surpass the extent of his frivolities.  I remember vividly the day of his death, before he would take his last breath, noticing his eyes, so very telling, void of any life, and somehow knew that I too, would be, without any future purpose, as he was that day.  Yet still, I had refused to change.  I was who I was, nothing less, nothing more; I now found myself as he once was, seemingly mimicking his final days.    

There was a stench, one that lingered and though I had become used to it, I could see with my eyes the source of its smell; my bedding, disheveled, stained, dirty, and long overdue for a thorough cleansing, was wrinkled beneath my emaciated, increasingly weary body and I was helpless to remedy its effects. The “palsy” had, with time, deteriorated any physicality I once possessed and it, along with my will, now surrendered to my fate, imprisoned me in the totality of my situation. 

The acquaintances of my past, those that lived ungodly lives with me, would periodically stop in to help in small ways, but recently those visits became fewer and fewer as my sickness progressed until, one day, they simply stopped.  I was alone and the quiet which I earlier longed for when I first became ill, now hovered around me, taunting me with its full offering. 

There was however, one of my friends, who had recently stopped in to see me and spoke of an encounter he had with a man named Jesus.  He, my friend, spoke with such optimism, that was so unlike him, and he recounted the experience, every detail crisp within his mind and coming forth fluently in his words.  I, over the years, had seen him many times at his worst yet now saw him, anew, and though my eyes teared as I listened to his witness, I was too far gone, ill deserving of any good in my life with no desire to be anything or anywhere but with my newfound friend, alone.  I had succumbed, finally, to my destiny and impatiently waited for my end to come; the sooner the better. 

The next morning, to my demise, rays of light cascaded down, through and around the casement of the door upon my eyes awakening me to another unwanted day.  I slowly closed my eyes once more, hoping sleep would remove me from my existence a bit longer, but there was a stir outside and though I could not see it, I could hear my fellow neighbors and sensed something was happening within our little village.  

Then suddenly, and to my surprise, the door which had long been closed, literally and figuratively, swung open with intensity and my friend, the one that had spoken to me of Jesus earlier, and three of his friends, came in without warning, without discussion, and simply took up my frail body upon the bed that had almost encapsulated me completely.  I asked him repeatedly where he was taking me only to be met with silence and an urgency that I could see in his eyes and that too of his friends as well.

There was a large crowd, vying to meet the man, this Jesus, that they all were talking about.  It was chaos, throngs of people pushing, shoving, desperately trying to position themselves for an encounter with him.  As we weaved in and amongst them, there was a wave of overwhelming anticipation and expectation, easily detected, that flooded the souls of all that were clamoring to see him.  A few short moments later, as our progression slowed, we stopped, abruptly, still quite a distance away from the entrance of the small home that supposedly he was occupying.  I heard my friend speaking with the others but could not make out what they were discussing yet their resolve was quite evident in their body language; for what purpose I still was unsure?

Immediately, they changed course, went around the ever-growing horde towards the back of the home and gently laid me down upon the ground.  They quickly rummaged for anything that would assist them as they began to scale the back side of the small home.  Then, without warning, and to my utter surprise, roof tiles came flying down and around near to where they had positioned me.  They beckoned a few other men that were near to the scene and before I knew it, they were lifting me up and onto the roof of the home; I was unaware of their plan until I saw the gaping hole in the roof top.  Without hesitation, and with a greater sense of urgency, they lowered me down, carefully, and into His presence.  I felt so unworthy, yet, as I looked into His eyes, and He to mine, they would, tell me otherwise.  For a moment He looked away and up, fixating His face and gaze to that of my friends, hesitating as in deep thought, and then repositioned His eyes once again upon me.  He said to me in a most calm, yet powerful, intimate tone… “Man, thy sins are forgiven thee” and a few moments later, “arise, and take up thy couch…”

Father I am almost fearful to pray; I have wept much over the passage of old and ask that in your great mercy, forgive me if I have embellished the story and its significance. You have shown me so vividly, with such clarity, not just the love you possess in that of yourself, but, in those, that would dare to attach themselves to you.  This story, of a man, unworthy at best, speaking not a singular word, was granted that day, a new life with you.  It was not anything that he obviously might have said, but rather, as you noted, “the faith of his friends” and the love, your love, that consumed them to the point of absurd action for a man, underserving, lost, and incapable of helping himself.  It was not enough for his friends to simply accept what you had done in their lives, to carry on with their lives for reasons of self, but rather were driven by a love that you had graciously given them, a love that simply could not be contained within their beings.  It needed an outlet and what better way to express than to allow it to be poured out on one that was in desperate need of your touch, your glance, and your presence?!

Recently Father you spoke to me with equal lucidity and challenge regarding the ten virgins, awaiting the coming of your Son.  All ten virgins had lamps, but unfortunately, only five had oil within, the other “foolish” five did not.  You were to come and “the five without” asked “the five with” to share their oil with them only to find themselves turned away and left to their own accord.  I struggled, even now still, immensely, with this action on the part of those prepared, full of the anointing if you will. If we were all true to ourselves, undertaking an intense inward meditation, would, without hesitation, proclaim that your gift of salvation, of a new life, now, and upon this earth is of the greatest importance to us.  We know of its great significance, the ultimate sacrifice filled with much pain, and greater suffering, that Jesus alone had to endure for its fulfillment.  Forgive me Lord for what follows, as I am sure it will upset more than a few that might consider the contemplations of a man still without knowledge but ask I must.  Why Father, did those that had oil, that were readied for your coming, turn away those in need and send them away, further still from you?  Why not rather hold their lamp in one hand and offer their empty hand, to be grasped, encouraging, pleading with those found lacking, to take hold?  Unwilling, to the point of incapable of proceeding, even for themselves, to enter in knowing with a certainty that others perished without.  How…how can we be so selfish still?  Could they not have, at the least, led them towards the door and as with the man with the palsy, into your very presence?  I have asked myself repeatedly, what would have become of the man with palsy, as we know nothing of his back story other than he was incapable physically, and spoke not a word to Jesus, had he not been led and laid at your feet by those filled to overflowing with your love?  Is there a difference here Lord between the intended recipients?  Might you have looked upon the faith of the “five with” and granted those that had accepted the hands of guidance the same love that the man with palsy received?

I am, lost, lost in my contemplations Father, powerless to just let go of our meditations with one another and live on… “they overcame him by the blood of the lamb, and by the word of their testimony, and they loved not their lives even unto the death.”  “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”  “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless, I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.”

It is too much, your love is too great, too wonderful to be held for self any longer, even to the extent Father that there must be self-sacrifice, daily, and for some elect few, martyrdom, loving not their lives, willingly offering their last breath, as with Stephen, praying to you as he was stoned, “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.”  That is a love for fellow men, so very rich, so very full that it absolutely refuses to allow ones “self” any claim upon its ownership and or its abundance.

“He must increase, but I must decrease.”   Help us Father.

Daniel

Luke 5: 17-25  “And it came to pass on a certain day, as he was teaching, that there were Pharisees and doctors of the law sitting by, which were come out of every town of Galilee, and Judaea, and Jerusalem: and the power of the Lord was present to heal them.  And, behold, men brought in a bed a man which was taken with a palsy: and they sought means to bring him in, and to lay him before him.  And when they could not find by what way they might bring him in because of the multitude, they went upon the housetop, and let him down through the tiling with his couch into the midst before Jesus.  And when he saw their faith, he said unto him, Man, thy sins are forgiven thee.  And the scribes and the Pharisees began to reason, saying, who is this which speaketh blasphemies? Who can forgive sins, but God alone?  But when Jesus perceived their thoughts, he answering said unto them, What reason ye in your hearts?  Whether is easier, to say, thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Rise up and walk?  But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power upon earth to forgive sins, (he said unto the sick of the palsy,) I say unto thee, Arise, and take up thy couch, and go into thine house.  And immediately he rose up before them, and took up that whereon he lay, and departed to his own house, glorifying God.”

Matthew 25: 1-10 “Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegroom. And five of them were wise, and five were foolish. They that were foolish took their lamps and took no oil with them:  But the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps.  While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept.  And at midnight there was a cry made, behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.  Then all those virgins arose and trimmed their lamps.  And the foolish said unto the wise, give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out.  But the wise answered, saying, not so; lest there be not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves.  And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came; and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut.”

07/05/2018

Walking at a slower pace than that of the norm, surely a direct result of an unwavering inner turmoil within, Emmaus, once again, awaited our arrival as the afternoon heat began to wane from the sun now seeking its shelter as well for the day.  The last three days in Jerusalem weakened our resolve as we reluctantly, and with much disbelief, witnessed the horrifying, demoralizing, and heartbreaking crucifixion of Jesus at the hands of the Romans; more scathing, more contemptuous, was the thought that our leaders demanded such brutality.  We had held with great expectation that Jesus, in all of his greatness, in an open defiance toward those in Jewish leadership, would be the One that would redeem the people of Israel. 

As if that were not enough to consider, now, there was news of his resurrection from the dead, his body now absent from the tomb which had been so heavily guarded.  Could it be?

My conversation with Cleopas found a moment of peace.  An eerie quiet, as we walked in a saddened state, permeated the air that would surround us.  The silence ever so thick, was, in itself, extremely unsettling as its presence ushered in fertile ground for the rise and fall of emotional chaos and uncertainty.  Mine, that of emotions, uncontrollable at this point, ran to and fro without restraint; in a moment thoughts of his resurrection, that which he spoke of so very clearly, would find me ecstatic in sure belief, yet, moments later, with those same thoughts, unwanted grotesque snapshots resurfaced of Jesus nailed and hanging, limply, beaten beyond human recognition upon the cross at Golgotha, and the absurdity of one being risen from the grave in such a state, found me languishing, again without control, in depths of depression that no man should entertain.  I could not make it all stop!

Without notice, coupled with that of the agonizing silence that had fallen upon us, I could hear, with clarity, footsteps approaching us rather quickly from behind, drawing ever so near until at once a man, unbeknown to either of us, slowed his pace and began to speak.  With a calming tone but without restraint, he proceeded to inquire as to the sadness which obviously hung upon us?  Cleopas responded quickly with disbelief and a bit of anger, now questioning the stranger as to his ignorance or indifference to the events that transpired the last three days that surely every man and woman had now heard of.

The man, listened intently, holding his response, as Cleopas poured out his heart, his expectations, his disappointments and his uncertainty, all relevant to Jesus Christ.  I, on the other hand, was incapable of speech, still reeling from the pain, exceedingly great, that held me relentlessly in its grip.  I was incapable of letting go, letting all that I had seen, all that I had heard, all that I had experienced from Jesus’ outpouring of love, His grace, His mercy, His compassion, His kindness, His peace, His joy, His patience and so much more to simply be for nothing.

Again, there was silence.  Then, with the same tone of calm, the stranger began to speak ever so eloquently of Moses, the prophets of old , and greater still of Jesus; he painstakingly chose each word, careful not to miss any illuminating thought and we walked, slowly, without interruption, clinging on to each saturated declaration of truth.   My heart burned intensely with all that was being revealed and I simply relished being in the presence of a man so tranquil, so peaceful, and so determined in his steadfastness as the world around was enveloped in manmade turmoil and uncertainty.

Emmaus grew ever so close and we began to hear the sounds of normalcy and that of life; children and their laughter, indistinguishable conversations, donkeys neighing, and the smells of aromatic familiar foods.  They all, the smells, the sounds, and the sights, worked in harmony to create the atmosphere of daily life as we knew it.

As we neared our home, this stranger, still speaking beyond our comprehension at times, gave the impression that he would go further beyond the village.  I had held my tongue for the entirety of the unexpected chance meeting, unwilling to interject even the most minor of thoughts, but with my heart still afire, could no longer remain silent.

I compelled this man, with all that was within me, to abide with us, to stay in our company a bit longer as night now fell and Cleopas, as well, chimed in with enthusiasm for the same.  Surprisingly, there was no reluctance on his part; he seemed to welcome the invitation that had now been given voice and agreed to remain yet still for a while in our humble home. 

The fresh baked bread, its fragrance now occupying the same room with us all, fell into the hands of the stranger at his request.  He held the loaf, with great reverence, as if it were something greater than that of mere bread and blessed it with words that lingered in the air for limitless moments in time.  He began to carefully, and with great precision, break off two pieces of the bread, and with one piece in each hand, presented them to us, with outstretched arms for the taking. 

When I reached for the bread, my hand came into contact with his, and the touch of his hand to that of mine, caused my entire being to become physically unstable; especially my eyes which teared up and ran nonstop down the crevices of my beleaguered face.  The atmosphere, changed, and what once was simply the confines of a meager room, somehow turned into a place of indescribable holiness.  There was a purity, a sense of clean, and an overwhelming peace and love that equally encapsulated its entirety. 

With my eyes, now clearly seeing all that was before me, beheld, once again, the stranger, still with outstretched arms, and I noticed a gaping hole in his hand now empty of the bread.  I gasped, with my head trailing away and back, as Jesus himself sat before me.  He looked, in return, deep into my eyes and within me and simply…smiled; without another word He then instantaneously disappeared… 

Father, I once again find myself completely undone with the sweetness of thine word.  At the end of this encounter, it notes “and their eyes were opened, and they knew him…”  It causes me to question with great humility as to what we might be seeing or greater still what we are not seeing?  It says these two men constrained you, to stay a moment longer, in their presence.  Do we desire the same?  Do we beg of thee to tarry with us for with a certainly you are always drawing near, always wanting more of us and our time? I wonder… what would have happened had they not bid you to stay?  Oh Lord, let that question simmer but for a moment in our thoughts…

But they did!  Will we as well?  Of course, it is at that moment of tarrying, that unimaginable, that unfathomable circumstance might present itself.

Lord there is more in this story, so much more for the taking.  Please forgive me for my unending questions Lord?  Jesus, over and over, spoke of his body and his blood and the partaking of such in remembrance of Him.  Why do we discard, without much consideration, this most precious gift of the body and the blood?  Jesus said in John 6:53-56 “Then Jesus said unto them, verily, verily, I say unto you, except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you.  Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up the last day.  For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed.  He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him.”  Paul recounts in 1 Corinthians the same.  He notes, “do ye this in remembrance of me” and “do ye this, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me.”  Why have we, the Church, the body of Christ kept this indulgence of His body and blood just for special occasions?  Why can this not be done, each and every day of our lives, and as we do such shall we not consider Jesus and some of His life changing qualities that he bestowed upon those he would encounter; love, joy, peace, patience, grace, mercy, compassion, kindness, forgiveness, truth, light, humility and the like.  Should there not be a placement, in the form of broken bread, of Jesus within, and displacement, of our flesh, that takes place?  John says, “he must increase, and I must decrease.”  Can we not do this, alone, in a quiet room with you, without fear of being “unworthy” etc?  Is it not a truth that if we were all to refrain because of unworthiness, sadly, we would never partake for we all have fallen short so often?

What might happen from that displacement or rather the placement of Jesus into our lives.  For the two on the road to Emmaus, again, “their eyes were opened, and they knew him.”  Is not that what we should all be pining for?  Your last prayer for your disciples before the Passion in John 17 notes “For this is life eternal, that they may know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.”  Is it wrong or selfish for us to desire to see you Jesus and/or to long, with a burning not of this world, to know you more intimately each day?  Open our eyes, let us see clearly, the plans you have for each of us just for the day and may we be bold enough and more than willing to keep nothing for our “self.”  May the placement and displacement process produce an overflow, a running over, beyond the vessel, of all that is the totality of your son Jesus.  I will close with this thought…Jesus stood and read from Isaiah as noted in Luke:18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor, he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.”  Is that same anointing not ours as well?  I think so…let us partake of Him frequently, be changed, and walk with confidence in His calling for each of our lives, specific in nature, to each of us, but for the same purpose.  That all that we encounter, will be left with their eyes blinded, by a light so very brilliant, and with a residue of Jesus Christ so very substantial, that they cannot help but recognize it is not of man but rather from One not of this earth.  That they too may long, for it is His longing as well, to have personal intimate relationship.   

Father with hearts undone, we apologize that it was at the expense of your Son’s life, yet, thankful beyond measure, that His Passion, that His voluntary sacrifice bridged the chasm of separation, restoring right relationship between you, the Heavenly Father, and your sons and daughters.  It is all too wonderful for comprehension!    We love you.

Jesus…that’s all!

Daniel   

01/15/2015

I walked slowly this morning, taking in the coolness of the air and watched its reversal as it made its way back and into the atmosphere as small puffs of smoke.  The fall foliage, lining the dirt road, held me with its beauty in an orchestration of color.   The road, itself a canvas of pigment, had quite the collection of leaves as all around they fell, one by one, slowly cascading down with little care as to their destination and or demise.  I could not help but be a bit distraught at the thought that this backdrop of fall color would, with its magnificence, soon be barren; yet that too, in its own distinct fashion, would surely hold some of the same splendor in someone’s eye.

Progressing further, still at a leisurely pace, the coolness now gripped me with a greater level of cold.  Not too far in the distance, I heard the crack of a whip and the once overabundance of trees suddenly disappeared into the background.  Approaching the now open land, the wooden fence, in desperate need of repair, steadied my leg as I leaned upon the withered wood.  I was instantly taken in by the scene that played itself out before me. 

Approximately 50 yards away, the air, around the team of oxen and its driver, was filled with the same expulsion of smoke with a frequency and volume far exceeding that of my minor puffs of such.  The driver, an imposing dark figure, held the reins around his upper torso, down his arms and into his hands  and steadied the plow as it dug deep into the ground that followed the pair of lumbering oxen.  Periodically the unforgiving land, thirsting for moisture, full of rock and debris would hold true, the plow would falter and he, behind and unseen, would use the reins to smack the backs and tiny wisps of smoke rose from their now scarred and calloused backs.

The oxen, one older and more emaciated than the other, would snort and seemingly gasp for air as the younger pulled more of the weight.  I stood watching the oxen, now exhausted, for how long I am not sure.  The elder oxen looked as if each step might be his last; life had been taken from him one day at a time until little strength now ran through his timeworn body.  Soon he surely would be replaced with that of a younger beast and the cycle continues, year after year, generation after generation…

As with any parent, we find ourselves, in the midst, battling for our children so much more these days.  That which swirls around them, that encompasses their very lives, no matter what the culprit, seems beyond overwhelming and truly exhausting at times.  Yet, while in the very throngs of the ferocious battle, He never fails to speak encouragement in and through His word.  He gives us a glimpse into the very tactics of the enemy, allowing us opportunity to glean perspective that has eluded us aforetime.

Isaiah 58: 6 “Is not this the fast that I have chosen, to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?

Could it be any clearer?  There is one, cold and callous, that desires to take the reins early in our lives, forever behind and unseen, using us for his purposes, without forewarning and seemingly unaware, he whips us into submission over time.  We become heavily burdened with those things in life that, he knew, with a surety, could encumber and weigh us down in our flesh.  (He has experiential knowledge with previous unsuspecting participants and generations of young people.) We have carried them for so long the sting of the whip has now become common place; without feeling we trod, slowly, weakened in our physical beings and further still withered in our spiritual being.  We are scarred, scored, blemished, disfigured, and mutilated to the point of unrecognition.  When, as time has passed, he has sucked every ounce of our energy and usefulness, he simply casts us aside and begins to, unfortunately, look for the next unsuspecting beast of burden; our children.

There are those this day reading this letter that have been a participant, willing or unwilling, in the plans of the enemy to destroy their lives.  Some may be thinking, it is too late for me, I am too far gone.  Surely, God the Father has no desire for anyone that turned from Him so many years ago. The sting of the reins has long been dulled and the feeling, of any emotion, is eerily absent.  What could He want with a man or a woman of such character, washed up and with little life left?

Others still, had once tasted of His love, and somehow, find themselves wondering…what happened?  How could I fall back into the very depths of darkness and allow him, the enemy, access into my life once again?  The driver, gripping the reins tightly, with uncanny precision, slaps them across our beings and the sting returns.  Our addictions, some worse than others but nonetheless binding, hold us in an unrelenting grip and the yoke once again finds its way around our necks.  We find ourselves trudging through a field of rock and gasping for the breath of life.  

Then there are those, still young, invincible, and in their minds of immaturity are incapable of being bound, in any way, by this created figment of man’s imagination.  They give him the reins freely and they simply are not aware that someday, when least expected, he will tighten the grip and refuse to release the captive young beast, or so he tells them.  The years will pass quickly and they too will turn from young to old and as their energies subside within, the fight to overcome, diminishes as well.

Father, it is time, no matter the state and longevity of the bondage, to take a look behind us this day and recognize firstly who drives us, and for us, without delay, to acknowledge that “sin which so easily besets us.”  Could it be drugs, alcohol, work, a man/woman, pornography, money, food, self, unforgiveness, anger, bitterness, disappointment, or possibly pride and the ego that accompanies it?  Has the captivity, the imprisonment, the bondage, the oppression, the suppression and or the utter slavery to his desires reduced us to insignificance? 

If we would answer yes Lord, let not these thoughts create a negative perspective within, nor let us allow guilt to overwhelm us to inaction, nor our shame to keep us paralyzed and repressed one day longer.  I am reminded Father of two verses, spoken by your son Jesus, that scream with intensity this morning and the surety with which He spoke them gives us great hope, great comfort and ultimately your peace that you so long for us to walk in and experience.

Luke 4:18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor, he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.”

Matthew 11:28-30 “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Father, we bow, in humility, at the foot of the cross, where the soil is moistened with the blood of your son Jesus, and accept these promises today! 

I am most humbly yours,

Daniel