02/24/2015
My heart beat finally slowed, my actions more deliberate, more calculated, as even the smallest task became paramount within my thought process and greater still in its fulfillment. I lifted up the bottom portion of my mantle and the tassels, numerous in their quantity, entangled themselves in my fingers as I began to gently wipe my forehead, my neck and my face in its entirety from the torrent of sweat and dust mixture that had affixed itself to me with ease. My anger, so very ravenous minutes earlier, subsided and I sat, alone, in the shadows of the exterior wall outside the city gate, against the unforgiving warm texture of the rock, now motionless, peering out and into the intense heat that lifted off of the ground. Wave after distorted wave of this heat, and or emotion, as I am not sure of which, relentlessly skewed my line of sight.
Small dust clouds wisped through the air, darkening my vision further, yet I could still see, too clearly, the savage display of humanity as the overwhelming smell of death hovered over the disfigured body; it too lay alone and motionless, amongst the pools of blood as the earth swallowed its moisture up and into its matter instantaneously. The stones, in great volume and varying sizes, blemished thickly with a bold crimson red, thrown by the masses with such ferocity, held fast the remnants of a life now gone, and in a sense, entombed the young man.
The angry mob, to which I was a participant, though I had not thrown the first stone, had long since dispersed and the sight now sickened me; something stirred deep within me yet I was unsure as to why? I sat, contemplating, his beyond bold witness of Jesus to the leaders within the city and the masses as well. His declarations repeated themselves within my memory, over and over without end. I could hear them so clearly, as if just spoken, “I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God,” and “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Equally magnificent but with greater significance were the last words that he would utter, with superior volume and urgency, as the stones, without end, brutally ravaged every part of his body. They came, unsuspecting and without warning, simply not of this world and as he fell to his knees, they would usher forth with a proclamation of love that I had never witnessed in my life, “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.”
I sat, for how long I am not sure. The shade that held me in its comfort earlier had now drifted away from where I was sitting, similar to that of my anger, and the sun, relentless in its offering of heat, now consumed my entire being. I felt captive to the hard stone surface and rather than simply moving a few feet over and in to the coolness of the shade once more, I remained, sitting, still, again pondering my emotions. I sank, further still into my crouched position, incapable of movement, and carefully pulled my mantle up and over my head. Though it immediately gave me much needed temporary shelter from the sun, its weight was surprisingly much heavier than I remembered; it somehow felt different.
Acts 7:55-60 “but he, being full of the Holy Ghost, looked up steadfastly into heaven, and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing on the right hand of God, and said, Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.Then they cried out with a loud voice, and stopped their ears, and ran upon him with one accord, and cast him out of the city, and stoned him: and the witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man’s feet, whose name was Saul. And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.And he kneeled down, and cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin to their charge. And when he had said this, he fell asleep.
Saul/Paul, as we know, would soon meet Jesus personally, in a most dramatic way, on the road to Damascus and his life was, quite simply, forever changed. Yet I cannot help but wonder if his participation, his consent to the first martyr of and for Christ somehow changed him that day? Could a seed, at the expense of a singular life, a very precious life in the eyes of Christ, have been planted? Was Stephens’ mantle, which he clearly laid down voluntarily that day, passed to an unsuspecting witness, one that too shared a similar zeal for God?
I sit this evening, and many evenings that have long since passed, cloaked with an indescribable heaviness, encumbered by the lack of hope, the deep hurt and the helplessness that pervades our society. I have spent countless hours, reading scripture, contemplating, meditating, typing and re-typing, writing words that are simply not of me, in hopes that they might encourage both the body of Christ and those that may not be, and all the while I weep, uncontrollably at times and wonder, how much longer Lord? Can it really get much worse? I feel, responsible, to the extent that my life, a singular life as well, and truly of little value in the eyes of the world, has not been absolutely exhausted for God the Father, for His Son, our Savior, and His Spirit.
Paul, years later in his life, would also find himself beaten and notes, “of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one.” If flogging were not enough, he too would be stoned and left for dead. Yet, through it all and still in the midst of such adversity, he would pen these words of wondrous encouragement in 2 Corinthians 4:8-11, “we are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body. For we which live are always delivered unto death for Jesus’ sake, that the life of also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh.”
Lord, we all, find ourselves in need, we all find ourselves desperate, we all, at times, find that life is just too difficult and the heaviness that accompanies such can at times be weighty and laborious to the point of exhaustion. It is here, we must refocus, we must without delay, understand that it is during the very trials, the debilitating tribulations, that this dying, that the partaking of His crucifixion is for Him, for His name.
Stephen’s life counted for something, Paul’s life counted for something, our lives Lord, they do, as well, count for something. “As for man, his days are as grass, as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.” Yet, though our lives in the flesh be gone or will be one day soon, we shall, be as those before us, that have left trails of tears, trails of blood, forever, witnesses, to the saving grace, the extension of mercy, the promise of peace and the recipients of a love not of this world.
The mantle has been passed, from one man/woman to yet another, from generation to generation, and we must at all cost, even if it be with death to self, prioritize the responsibility, be consumed in tending to its care, never forsaking the “cloak of righteousness” that is of Christ! Our lives, singularly, collectively, as heirs, in word, in deed, in all facets, be forever a testament, to a world that needs to see something different…this very moment, this very hour, this very day!
2 Corinthians 4:6 “For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”
Father, may we, with your Son, Jesus Christ and the gift of thine Holy Spirit, be brilliant, blinding, radiant beacons of illuminous light, out and into the darkness that is of the world!
Perpetually undone,
Daniel