Jesus…That's All

09/07/2017

I am hesitant to even write anything as what follows is powerful.  I am not sure if any father can understand the story of the prodigal son and the reaction of the father until experiential knowledge affords him such.

This writing is from my son, Devin, and though some of the thoughts are extremely personal, he has given me his blessing to post on this site.  He is not ashamed and neither am I; never have been for what father can ever really be ashamed of his son?  Our Father certainly is not of us and it was evident by His willingness to sacrifice His son, Jesus, that we might have this “fresh start.”

I hope you will partake of the banquet today as you read of one of His children coming home!

A Fresh Start,

On this day, January 23, 2013 at 12:23 I was reborn in the spirit of Christ.  But I was lost before this experience happened.  Lonely and angry at what I had become, I longed for something, anything to take the pain that lingered in my heart away.

It was a regular day for me. I woke up, with aches and pains. A lump formed in my throat from all of the evil that I had been inhaling for the past couple of months.  I ate breakfast, but it did not nourish me.  I felt sick, I was sick.  I dreaded going to work, like every other day that I had been here.  I knew that it held nothing for me, I was not going to better myself.  I got off work in sort of crappy mood, something tugged at my heart.  In this moment I thought it was my addiction.  Marijuana took over my life, it held me down.  I needed it to lift me from the awful place that I was in.  I bought a gram, and smoked it all.  No matter how much of that evil I put into my lungs, for some reason it was not doing the trick like it had for so long.  As I smoked a cigarette on the porch at a friend’s house, a dark figure kept passing by. It was in the form of a man.  This man was hooded and dark beyond your wildest imagination. The way he walked was so cunning; it appeared to just be a normal guy walking past us a couple of times. But I knew it was more than what met the eye.  I started to shake from the fear that I felt in the deepest pit of my heart.  It was Satan.  He was watching me, tugging at my soul to partake more of the evil that had already destroyed my life.

I left the house.  I got into my car.  I could feel the evil at my heels.  Out of nowhere a car appeared behind me as if out of thin air.  The whole way home, this car trailed my every move.  No matter what speed I went; no matter what turn I took, it was on my heels.  John 10:10 reads “The Thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.”  I could feel my heart pounding.  I became hot.  I not only felt the heat on my body as I touched my face, but I could also feel it inside of me.  It was in my heart.  Turn for turn the car followed me, the devil followed me. He is REAL, just as the Son of Man is real.  I turned into my apartment complex, followed closely by this evil.  As I was making the turn, I saw that he was still following me.  Knowing that he was going to get me, I looked down in fear to see what time it was on my phone.  I turned my phone on and saw the Angel.  I had put the angel as my background because for the last few weeks that led up to this
moment I knew what I really needed.  I needed Jesus.  I looked in the rear view mirror again to see if the car was still hot on my trail and it seemed to have disappeared.

I opened the door of my apartment and headed straight for my room.  I crawled into bed.  As I lay there that’s when it happened.  The heat rose up from my heart.  My throat was dry, I was thirsty.  But it was more than just a thirst.  No matter how many times I tried to return moisture to my mouth, it stayed parched.  The air from my battered lungs started to escape me.  It was like my life was being taken from
me.  In my darkest hour I lay there gasping for air, thirsty for life. I was in sort of a trance.  But there was something that gave me hope on this night.  In the distance I heard something like the sound of bells. I heard it while the heat was overpowering
me. I heard it when I could not breathe.  When I thought there was no hope for me, that I had been lost, I then heard it…It was a faint knock. At first I thought it was coming from my throat. I then realized it was not from my throat but actually from my heart. It
started to get louder, more persistent with every passing second.  With the sound of the bells still in the background, I then realized what it actually was.  It was my hope.  He is my hope.  It was my shield; it was my God; right there beside me guarding me and my heart as I went through my journey in hell. The Holy Spirit was knocking louder at my heart and the music played with beauty.  Begging to let HIM in.  But it was actually I that was begging. I knew in my heart that I wanted that relationship with God.  At that very moment a feeling of unexplainable beauty and life flowed through me.  I sat up, not on my own power but by his power, and a gushing wind filled my lungs.  The most pure air flowed through me, sending an unworldly feeling through my limbs.  I could feel all of the pain slowly slip away.  My hands, not by my power, but the power of the Holy Spirit lifted to the heavens.  I felt his love.  His forgiveness was brought over me.  My legs felt as if they had been made new. My sore ankle at that moment felt better than ever.  My smoke ridden lungs had felt as if they had been healed.  I was reborn.  The power that I felt on that night will be what I speak of when I talk about my faith. I got up and quickly grabbed my Bible.  I opened it and John 8:11 jumped out of the pages at me. It read, “I do not condemn you, Go and sin no more.” I started to cry.  My God had forgiven me for all of the things that I had done in the 21 years of my life.

Suddenly, the evil that had been inside me started to literally crawl out. It felt as if I were dry heaving. As it persisted, it felt that the evil was grabbing the sides of my throat and opening it so that it could crawl out of me, as if it was pulling itself out of my body.  I then heaved with more force than you can ever imagine, and then coughed once.  It was the loudest most violent cough that I have ever experienced.  With that cough, I was rid of all of my sins.  I AM NEW! In the name of the Holy Spirit, I am a new man.  That night I read my Bible for quite some time, and He spoke to me the entire time.  Verses jumped off of the page at me and I rejoiced in His name.

Ever since that night I have read my Bible everyday and I understand it now.  Before, I would read it and it felt like I was reading a bunch of jibber jabber. Nothing would
impact me, nothing would touch me. But now because I am filled with the Holy Spirit, I understand it.  My God is very powerful.

I have built my life on the rock of my salvation, and I will not be moved from my firm foundation. I will stand on the Word of my God, with everything.  I am not ashamed to say I will stand.  The sword of truth in my hand is conquering every demon’s stronghold. For today.

Devin

06/25/2017

The coolness of the morning accompanied by a restless wind, through the canopy of trees, awakened me unexpectedly and early from a horrible night of sleep.  The ground, normally soft and welcoming on my body, seemed unforgiving as I tossed from side to side; for the first time I experienced discomfort, pain, and a numbness simply absent from any previous night of slumber. 

Raising slowly to my feet I immediately felt that something was different, something was awry. The woman that He had given me, still slept, yet she lay curled up and as I placed my hand upon her side in an attempt to reduce the shivering that encompassed her being, she slowly began to open her eyes.  The warmth of my hand caused her to want more as she pulled me close and next to her.  Our bodily heat, one to the other, reduced the effects of the cold morning and we laid dumbfounded to the consequences that consumed our existence.

We whispered softly to each other, not knowing why, other than we might be overheard by Him.  We replayed the events of the prior days encounter with the snake and both, simultaneously, felt emotions we had not yet encountered; guilt, shame, and awkwardness overcame us with a ferocity that was relentless in its offering.  We wept, quietly, in one other’s arms and small droplets of water, this too new, trickled from our eyes and down our faces; we remained in our comforting embrace as neither of us wanted to rise from such.

The warmth of the sun stirred us and finally we began the day.  Looking upon each other, differently, we recognized immediately that we were uncovered and naked.  Uncomfortable we began to affix together the leaves of the fig tree to act as a covering and or an apron.  Earlier we had heard the voice of Him, walking in the midst of the rather large garden, and because both of us felt so uneasy, we hid in and amongst its canopy.  Over and over we heard His call until finally He found us.

His call, specifically to me, not so much to the woman as he bellowed my name, “Adam” sent chills down my spine.  I was fearful to respond, unwilling to answer and we remained quiet still in the thickness of the covering; the woman gripped my hand tighter still as the call came once again and I was experiencing emotional overload as my body shook and quivered without hindrance.

Then finally, as if next to me, “Where are you?”

This question, the first question posed by God to man, still resonates today.  Time, measured in years has not, in any way, diminished its call, the shifting of sands, numerous, have not nor will ever be capable of shrouding its herald; and what of distance, might it eradicate the cry from the Father, specific to His children?

This morning, in His presence, He taps away, quietly, at the keyboard of our hearts, and desires to know of our answer to the call, to the herald spoken by Him with fervency, with ferocity, with urgency and with an unending resolve, ever waiting, patiently, for our consideration and our response…

”Where are you?”   

Father, we come before you this day, each one of us, broken in some way.  Some of us are hiding, some of us are running as with Jonah from the call You have on our lives, some of us contemplating life’s unanswerable questions, as Martha and Mary, “Lord, if thou hadst been here,” some of us simply hurt, we have lost our way, we are walking in unforgiveness, in bitterness, we are lonely, incapable of receiving the love you so long for us to possess, your fullness and yet, all the while, you remain, never leaving us, never forsaking us, always there, so very near, closer than we can imagine, wondering… “Where are you?”   Father forgive us, let us answer right now, without further delay, and with the same volume back to you, we are here Lord and we need you so very much.  We need you to place balm upon the injuries, the bruises, the cuts, the scars, inflicted without deterrent by life and its unending trials and tribulations.  We confess the selfishness of these desires yet we must know, with a certainty, that there is a greater purpose beyond ourselves Lord.  Scripture so eloquently notes, “There was a man sent from God, and his name was John.  The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through Him might believe.”  Father, are we not all, every single one of us, sent from thee, and could it not be that the name John is interchangeable and that our names, in humility, could be placed within the same confines of scripture?  Sure, many of us are poor in the eyes of the world, possessing little, without eloquence of speech, without influence, without power and yet though we lack in these, what we do have, is it not utterly eye opening?  The words of Paul leap off of the pages with boldness, with clarity, and with power as we too proclaim of your goodness, your grace, your mercy, your peace and of a surety your love to all that will hear of such wonderment. “And I, brethren, when I came to you, did not come with excellence of speech or of wisdom declaring to you the testimony of God.  For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.  I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling.  And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.” 

“Where are you?”  Give us courage to answer!

Undone,

Daniel

11/30/2016

The stench of the colony, for some reason, overwhelmed me more today than any other time in the past.  The foulness of dead rotting skin and remnants of extremities, fingers with bone now showing, toes looking nothing like toes, scattered along the path, was simply more than I could handle as I walked slowly passed those too feeling overwhelmed and with little hope.  On the outskirts of our shanty village, in a desperate attempt to lessen the smell that lingered, exaggerated by the noon day heat, I finally reached the fig tree that would offer me a bit of shade.  I sat, limp and without energy, as with every day, trying desperately to escape “life” and the reality of my situation that ravished my flesh now scarred from its horrifying effects. 

The disfigurement, gradual at first, now consumed me entirely with flesh tumors covering the majority of my body, skin lesions unhindered and the loss of extremities to the point of debilitation.   I lifted my hands to my head, or what was left of them with fingers now mostly gone, as my palms cupped my forehead.  Without thinking, I moved too quickly, and the simple adjustment of my body caused my skin to tear and stick to my cloak with its moisture.  The blood trickled forth, crimson in color, freely and without interference; I sat in disbelief that there was no pain.  I had numbed to such yet there was a pain more relentless; that of limited, warm, human contact for so many years.

I simply could no longer go on; I was ready to die and the sooner, I thought, the better.  Lifting my eyes towards the mountains and in to the brightness of the sun, the shimmering heat leapt and danced off of the ground.  Something moved from the mountains base but I could not tell as to what it might be.   The dust clouds, significant in size, took me by surprise as “it” moved ever so slowly.  I wiped my tearing eyes in an attempt to focus a bit more and as I cleared them I noticed a large crowd of people heading into the main village still a good distance away.  The closer they came within my view I noticed they followed a smaller group of men, a bit ahead of them, and greater still their seemed to be one they all followed.    

Could it, possibly be, the man, the man named Jesus, the great miracle worker?  My thoughts ran amuck and I stood replaying the stories of demons fleeing with a simple rebuke of his voice and likewise all manner of diseases healed as if they had never existed.  The thoughts, too grand for comprehension, lingered, as if suspended in air and capable of being touched.  I felt something stir within me and without hesitation I sensed an urgency to see if this was him and if I could somehow speak with him in my humbled state.

As the large crowd approached I knew that it must be Him; his attire was not that of privilege but rather as a common man…one of us.  He carried himself with such resolve, steadfast as he walked ever so deliberately now just on the outside of the gate to the village that had been banished me years earlier from its masses.   Nearing closer still, I could hear the murmurings begin and the warnings from within and without prompting him, vehemently urging him to not only ignore me but to stay clear of me.   

Now overcome by the jeers, the insults penetrating so very deep and the hurling of threats, I turned slowly and began to walk away from the angered crowd.  My heart sank.  I began to cry, softly, to myself.  I had never felt so very dirty both inside and out?  My steps slowed and I felt something stir once again within and I simply stopped as I wiped tears streaming down my filthy face.

Without thought, I turned again and ran as fast as I could and fell at his feet, taking the masses by surprise as they screamed at me with great fervor and without hindrance.  I cried out, face down before him, “Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.”

I cried now uncontrollably, still prostrate and incapable of looking at him directly.  Through my tears, now clouding my sight, I saw his feet move.  All was silent, not a word was spoken by anyone, and I feared he was simply going to walk around me.  Then it happened.

I felt a hand touch my head gently, the silence still deafening, and his stroke worked its way down the side of my face and his fingers now cupped my chin.  With a bit of pressure he lifted my face upward, away from the ground, and our eyes met as he stooped down to the place of my humiliation.  I had not experienced the touch of a human hand for so long that I simply reveled in its caress.  We looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity and then he spoke, as if the touch were not enough.  He quietly said, “I will; be thou clean.” 

In an instant a burning sensation encapsulated my entire being and the horrible effects of leprosy reversed themselves right before my very eyes.  A simple touch and a kind authoritative word changed me forever…how could I ever thank him for such?!

Father, this passage has impacted me greatly.  For many of those that would encounter Jesus, His words, spoken at appointed times would change lives beyond imagination…we have all been recipients of such.  Yet there were some Father that experienced Him in a much greater way, with His “touch.”  We cannot begin to comprehend what that must have felt like or maybe, just maybe…we can?!

The older I get Lord, it has become so very clear, that the simple touch of a human hand, placed upon a person that is hurting, upon one that is lost, upon one that is lonely, upon one that is afraid, upon one that is despondent and or upon one that has given up, affords us the opportunity to feel what that must have felt like.  It is your touch Lord, they are your hands of caress and of an unconditional love through us, channeled down, and upon the very sons and daughters you have selected for us to encounter. 

Matthew 9:36-38 screams to us with a sense of urgency Lord, “but when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd.  Then saith he unto his disciples, the harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few.  Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest.”

Father forgive us, let us look out rather than always looking inward and send us forth to those scattered abroad each day to those of your choosing; put them in our lives and allow our paths to cross.  Move us, greatly, with a compassion we have not yet encountered.  Let not another day pass Father for there is one that needs a “touch” from someone today!

Undone,

Daniel

08/10/2016

I watched from a distance, as the young babe looked intently, into the eyes of the aged woman I had come to love so very much.  She held him close, upon her bosom, and looked back, with the same intensity, now moistening her lips with the tears that had trickled down, through the wrinkled crevices, upon her face.  A smile emerged, that had been absent for so many years, and the whisperings she uttered made me curious as to the recipient of such.  Little did she know that the one she gazed upon would be in the blood line of none other than the son of God…Jesus!  The wisp of the heated wind took me back to times, of extreme difficulty, that we mutually endured together when life was not so wonderful…

…My emotions were running violently unhindered and without restraint.  The heat of the day equally matched the intensity of the ever relentless bugs circling my being and crawling everywhere.  Some managed to bite my flesh sparsely revealed through my paltry clothing now drenched with sweat and stained from the labor of the day.  I could hear, through the thickness of the corn field, the heart penetrating insults, directed towards me, that echoed within the stalks near, by those hired to harvest the yield that was now awaiting their attention.  I simply waited as well, longing within that they would overlook a bit of the yield and or drop some as I gleaned the meager leftovers. Circumstances, beyond my control, played over and over within my thought process as the day crept by slowly and without compassion on its weary participants.  I wept quietly, hoping, that none would hear me. 

Sitting now on the ground from exhaustion, my back in an undesired, uncomfortable fixed hunch, I no longer was distracted by the bugs or heat.  I could not help but remember the discouraging words, so callous, that poured forth with such ease, from my mother in law as we returned to her home in Bethlehem and wondered, now sitting alone in the poverty of my menial existence, if I had made a horrible mistake?  “Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the LORD hath brought me home again empty: why thencall ye me Naomi, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me?

Years earlier I had heard her speak with such passion about her God, the God of Abraham and His plan for our then enlarged family.  She now spoke with little hope, weak and aged from the trials and tribulations that life had inflicted upon her without pity.  I witnessed her heart, torn asunder, with the loss of her husband and left in a land raising two sons that would hold them as refugees from the famine that ravished so many areas.  A few years later, her sons, one of which was my husband, would soon follow into the footsteps of their father with untimely deaths.  She simply was not the same woman that I had come to admire and love without limitations.  The smiles had diminished, the laughter had ceased and she was simply broken, physically, emotionally, spiritually and seemingly beyond repair.  Her pleas for both me and Orpah, her other daughter in law, to go home to our parents, broke my heart to the full.  I could not leave her alone and refused to see her try and “live” with little expectation, with no means of support and with the heartbreak that ravished a once large faith…

Father as I read of Ruth, the restoration that would follow for both her and her mother in law Naomi, I sit in absolute wonderment.  When life, with its trials and tribulations, both outwardly and inwardly destroyed any faith once possessed by one of your children, as the great I AM, you were there!  You were there in the midst of the circumstances, you were there in the corn fields with Ruth, you were there when Naomi spoke words that must have penetrated your very heart and you were there, Father, as the One that gleans at the most opportune time.  You gleaned what others had cast away, you gleaned what others left behind, you gleaned what others had trampled upon as widowed women, in places of poverty and for those of a “humbled and contrite spirit.”  We find much comfort in knowing that many of us, in similar heart breaking situations, can more than count on you to be the same in our lives.  You desire nothing less, evident by your plan of redemption, by the giving of your Son, as the sacrificial lamb, than the realization that when life and its current and or coming atrocities appear in various forms, your Son, now sitting at your right hand, as the Great High Priest, “is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.”  It is too wonderful Father!  The vast majority of us are not of this world and hold very little estate in the eyes of those that would look down upon us.  In speaking of Abraham it was said, “and so, after he patiently endured, he obtained the promise.”  Scripture pours forth this morning Father… “if any man will come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”   The cross in its entirety represents nothing less than afflictions endured by pious men and woman, as a trial of their faith, conforming them to the example of their crucified master; and to do so daily!  One can certainly understand the need for thine Spirit Father as in the flesh we find ourselves painfully weak, lacking the strength that can only come from thee to withstand the “wiles of the enemy.”

Father, there are those reading this morning that find themselves in places of despair, in places of discouragement, in places of hopelessness that they never could have imagined.  The enemy, whispers, insults by his underlings, unconstrained, to the ears of your children.  So our response this very hour shall simply be… we “therefore come boldly unto the throne room of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”  As with Ruth, give us courage to be different, to go where others dare not go, to be subservient to your desire for our lives, to serve those that others would choose not to serve, to be counted worthy to be the embodiment of your Son.  Naomi, in the end, was restored and though she looked down upon a babe with much love, we shall look up, from the foot of the cross, also with a face full of tears, and revel in all that was and is your Son, our Savior, Jesus.  Recipients of love uncompromised, love unconditional and with a heritage unlike any other as children of God.  “And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with Him, that we may be also glorified together.”

We commit our lives into thine hands and though the words of Ruth were spoken to Naomi, may they  be emblazoned upon our very hearts and spirits as we cry them out to you Father!   “Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for where you will go, I will go…”

Daniel

06/18/2016

I sat, alone, though the throngs of inhabitants bustled in and around me, at the gate to our village, in a state of utter despair.  The light wind blew its fading hint of heat, mixed with a small taste and tinge of dirt, across my face and within my beard as the coolness of the evening began to come forth.  Tears of regret, tears of sorrow, tears of time wasted and tears of life revealed their earlier existence from the recognizable streams of “clean” down my dirtied face.

Pulling my tunic up and over my head brought the warmth I had enjoyed earlier in the day as the hours passed in contemplation of the absolute sinfulness of the place I called home.  I looked out, as the sun, now waning fast and all but gone, out and into the approaching darkness, towards the distant mountains and noticed faint shimmers of light dancing irregularly as they moved closer towards me.

As the light came more definitive it was clear that the illumination was emanating from two men of God.   I immediately rose and greeted them, humbling myself in a prostate manner, with my face towards the ground.  My thoughts raced, unhindered and wildly, as I knew of the rampant sin which lurked, ever so near, just inside the gate and an all-encompassing shame engulfed my entire being.  I immediately implored them to come to my home but they, with matching resolve, declined my offer.  To make a bad situation worse they even had thoughts of staying outside and in the midst of the city; they obviously were oblivious to the debauchery that awaited them so very close.

I pleaded, once again, this time more vehemently to simply come home with me, to wash their feet, to rest and lodge there for the evening.  They could then, early in the morning, arise and be on their way.  To my grateful surprise they accepted and we quickly worked our way to my humble dwelling and I was cautiously confident that we had done so unnoticed under the cover of darkness.

We enjoyed a bit of unleavened bread, prepared in haste, and soon found ourselves tired and a bit weary from the day’s events.  Without warning, a pounding upon the old wooden door, shook us from our leisure and a boisterous crowd, shouting with increasing volume, demanded that I surrender the two guests into their company so they could “know” them.  My heart dropped and the shame that had earlier held me tightened its grasp upon me once again.  Surely they were aware of the fear that gripped me knowing, all too well, of the wickedness now demanding their involuntary participation.

I, for a brief moment, as if unaccompanied, contemplated my earlier thoughts at the gate, of a life ineffective and without fruit, not only as a witness to my family but my inner circle of influence as well, in all things pertaining to the God that I had once walked with more closely.  Another, more powerful pounding upon the door, ushered me back and into the present and without hesitation I opened the door rapidly, closing it behind me with the same level of swiftness.

The mob, obviously in a drunken state, could, nor would, attempt to hide the lust that their eyes possessed.  Their mouths spewed, unhindered, sexually laced tirades of unimaginable desires for my two guests.  In a panic, I offered my two virgin daughters, hoping this would somehow quench the yearning that was now reaching a crescendo.  They, however, were insistent upon the two men and began to physically take their frustrations out and upon me.  I felt a strong pull, from behind, and before I knew it the two men of God had dragged me back into my house and simultaneously struck the men outside with blindness. 

With a tremendous urgency, the two men spoke, with clarity, as to their visitation and purpose.  God would destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.  I was commanded to reach out, immediately, to my family and anyone else that would listen to the pending judgment; little did they know I had no one, not a singular acquaintance, outside of my family and my heart sank.

I heard, as I slowly awakened out of my sleep, the two men mumbling amongst themselves yet it was still quite dark.  I lay, disappointed, as the pleadings to my family fell on deaf ears just hours before.  Their mocking, without limitations, brought more tears though they went unnoticed.  Without warning I heard them, “Lot, arise, take thy wife and thy two daughters, which are here, lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the city.”

I arose, sitting now on the edge of the bed, but was paralyzed with grief, with fear, incapable of moving as I dropped my head into my hands.  I felt the strength of one of the men and he laid his hand upon mine, along with my wife’s hand, now standing beside me, but she fainted with the sternness and insistence of the request.  The other man grabbed my two daughters, by their hands as well and before I knew it we, all, were carried, into the darkness and not in our strength.  The chill of the morning took our breath and we gasped, trying to “take in” the enormity and severity of what now was transpiring without delay and quite quickly.

“Escape for thy life, look not behind thee, neither stay thou in the plain: but escape to the mountain lest thou be consumed” were the words spoken with great urgency.  We fled, alone from our guests, deeper into the darkness, towards the backdrop of the mountains faint in appearance.  As the sun began to rise, we heard from behind, sounds of tragedy of which we had never before heard.  My wife, now overcome, from the cries and screams that carried over the distance, became beyond distraught.  She wept for our other children calling each one of their names out in great agony and simply fell, exhausted, to her knees.  I held her close and I could sense she was going no further; she looked deep into my eyes and without further hesitation and with greater resolve, turned her head ever so slowly and back towards the city though I begged and pleaded her not to.

I embraced her and the once soft flesh now hardened in my very arms.  I let go, fearful, in despair and the distinct smell of salt accompanied the continual hardening of my wife to my utter disbelief.  My daughters, now crying uncontrollably, reached down and grabbed my outer cloak and lifted me up and we continued on, fatigued, further still towards the mountains. 

Father as I age and reflection becomes the greater part of my daily thought process, I too, as Lot, many times sit contemplating the unexpected meetings with those you would send across my path, the countless opportunities long since passed, and my specific circle of family and friends that have not witnessed your presence, in its wondrous fullness, in and through my life.  I recognize the enemy wants this contemplation, this regret and doubt that will, if we allow such, to eat away at our joy and the glorious light that you wish to shine forth.  The words of Paul to the Philippian’s well up within me as I tap away at the keyboard you have placed before me, “but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”  Father, Jesus noted that “we are the salt of the earth.”  What a tremendous statement! I am mindful of the residue of salt, either after exiting the waters off of any coast, the windblown salt air that sticks itself to us, and or the unmistakable taste it leaves upon our lips.  Your fullness, in the form of grace, of mercy, of peace, of compassion, of kindness, and of course love should be so “thick” that when they depart from the chance meetings that you have orchestrated with great care, those that you have allowed us to have fellowship with, they cannot help but recognize that residue of salt that lingers long upon their very beings.  They should leave our presence, in an absolute awe, wondering “what the heck did they just encounter”?   They should feel hope, they should feel encouragement, and they should feel all that you wanted them to experience specific to their individual needs.  Jesus said “remember Lot’s wife” and I must confess, in my lack of understanding, I am not sure why we should do so other than to not look back, but rather “to press toward the mark” and to recognize that, her final state, a pillar of salt, is what we should be!  Let today be the day we let go of bitterness, the day we let go of unforgiveness, the day we let go of anger, the day we let go of anything that hinders us from being simply pillars of salt stationary and in one place, but pillars of salt, walking without boundaries to the nations, to those amongst our circle of influence, and walking in our inheritance, as your children.  We bow before you and we ask, in great humility, for yet more encounters Lord, more chance meetings, more crossing of paths, to anyone that you would choose to be in the midst of your presence as we humbly stand in thy stead.

Daniel

01/23/2016

The warmth of the sand particles permeated every fiber of my being as I lay face down upon them; I was oblivious to their entrance into my facial orifices as I shifted my head from one side to the other.  It was as if I could feel the heat encapsulated within each and every grain and it brought me much comfort.  Equally satisfying, yet with a greater ferocity, was the burn on the back side of my body as the sun issued forth its heat.  They both, in tandem, slowly, removed the intense cold that had held me captive, relentless in its bondage, the last couple of days.

For how long I laid there I am not sure but I soon rolled over and onto my back, now facing the brightness of the sun, and the moisture of my lips, as with the cold, too faded away.  I licked my lips over and over again trying to produce any form of wetness that I could muster but was unsuccessful. 

Hunger pangs coupled with my now increasing awareness of thirst issued forth the reality of my situation and the events, that had led me to this place of loneliness, this place of want and this place of isolation, began to emerge within my memory…

I could not understand why the Lord wanted me to speak, to our very enemies, anything that might have saved them from their just due, to speak any word or prophecy that might cause them to repent and be restored in His eyes?  I simply refused.  If that were not enough, my disobedient resolve took me further still with plans to run to a faraway land, as I purposed in my heart to distance myself, as far as I could, from this request of insanity?! I could not and would not do it!

Walking up the old weathered wooden plank to the ship, it’s aged captain, a seedy, impatient, cranky fellow, whom I had just negotiated the inflated fare with, bellowed in a deep raspy voice, “steady yourself mister” and laughed with his crew, also a curious bunch, as they tipped their bottles of mind altering spirits.  I grasped the ropes that draped down and towards the pier and they burned the flesh of my hands as the ship, unsteady to say the least, swayed to and fro from the movement of the ocean.    

I went into the depths of the ship, in a dark area, where little light was permeating and a small wisp of wind welcomed me with an aromatic stench that made me step back and away for a moment.  I stepped over the damp, some more than others, wet bundles of stow until I found one filled with something that was seemingly soft with its contents; a little lumpy and it too, unfortunately, was ladened with a bit of moisture and even worse a more intense pungent smell that sickened me with its ferocity.

I simply collapsed, becoming nothing more than an additional bundle in my eyes, to be delivered to a land far away.  The previous day’s journey that had brought me to this darkened, stinky place of refuge, left me exhausted, caring for little, wanting to forget it all and I only wanted to rest.  I flattened the bundle, further still, out to the best of my ability, laid down completely upon its humble offering and though I could hear the crew and their readying of the ship, I soon drifted off to sleep.

“Wake up”!  “wake up”!  What was once a very deep sleep soon became an instantaneous awakening as the captain shook me, screaming and yelling as my senses struggled to return fully to me.  The ship, formerly calm at port, now was in the midst of a horrible, unforgiving storm.  The winds raged as the sails flapped loudly in its midst and at one point the sails just bent over, almost as if bowing, to the creator of such calamity.

The waves crashed over and into the ship, further creating chaos as panic and fear overtook the men now praying frantically to their gods.  They were all scurrying about, tossing their load overboard in hopes of lightening the ship but nothing seemed to help.  So fierce was its state, the ship groaned with volume and the crew feared it would simply break up and into pieces. The creaking and the popping of nails equaled the expression of the wind and the men became beyond desperate. 

They all, with one accord, knew that I was the cause of this catastrophe and before I knew it I found myself in the arms of angry, unforgiving men.  They were screaming and cried unto the Lord, “we beseech thee, O Lord, let us not perish for this man’s life, and lay not upon us innocent blood, for thou, O Lord, have done as it pleased thee.”  I did not resist and they lifted me up and over the rail into the raging sea.

The cold water encompassed me instantly and entirely and as I gasped for air salt water filled my lungs to the full.  I coughed and spit up the salty water in mass quantities trying to counter act the torrent consuming me with each massive wave.  They were relentless, tossing me, first up and out of the water and then down once again within its tempest; the weight of my clothing further hindered my ability to stay above the water as it ensnared me further in my situation.  I became tired with the fight, closed my eyes one last time, willing to succumb to the certainty of death, still struggling to breathe when with one last surge of water the darkness simply overtook me in its fullness.

I thought that I had blacked out completely but somehow was suspended just above waters edge.  Looking down and around me, I was entangled, from head to toe, within a substantial web of sea weed and the stench that I had encountered upon entrance into the ship was nothing compared to the horrific odor that now surrounded me with its cruelty.

My leg was wedged fairly deep into a cold yet soft fleshy feeling membrane.  The air was thick and I struggled to breathe as the water level rose and fell, jutted left and then right and soon after a time of inconsistent “rolling” of the water, I began to vomit volumes of murky salty sea water from my previous inhalation.

Minutes turned to hours and the hours soon found way to what had to be days or at least in my estimation.  My thoughts changed instantaneously from one to the other wondering where I was, what was holding me captive, what was so horribly rotten with smell and the like?  The intensity of the cold gripped me without measure and I shivered uncontrollably. 

I leaned against the wall of flesh that would not release me and began to break both physically and mentally.  It was so difficult to utter the words that I knew must be spoken in prayer to Him that I had forsaken.  Why would He hear me now, or why would He want to help me after my disobedience?   I had run from Him, in my weakness, in the pride and ego of my flesh, in my lack of compassion, in my lack of forgiveness and I felt shame, failing Him miserably and I found myself wanting.

I finally broke.

I began to cry softly at first until it ushered forth a volume that came from deep within and seemingly would not stop.  It was only after I became beyond exhausted that the wailing began to cease and as it did so, almost instantaneously my senses began to come back to me.  I spoke, with a stillness that had previously eluded me and tenderly to Him that I knew loved me, even in the midst of my disobedience.

Even with the torrent of circumstance that held me, I somehow pictured Him attentively listening to me with much care as I poured out my heart.  His presence slowed my shivering, His presence calmed my spirit and soon I found myself once again awash in His love.  Without warning I heard Him speak though I understood not what He said; it carried little volume but knew that He spoke with great authority. 

My foot which had held me steadfast for so long at once was now loose, and I found myself treading water once again.  A rumbling began to stir in the darkness of my surroundings and then with a great force I was propelled forward with unimaginable ferocity and all went black.  In an instant I felt earth or rather sand and the warmth soothed my very soul…

Proverbs 21:16 notes “The man that wanders out of the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead.”   If I may, let me give a bit more meaning to a few key words.  This wandering means to go astray, mentally, morally and or spiritually. The congregation denotes a multitude and or mass quantity of people and the dead are those that are feeble and or weak.

Father forgive us.  How have our eyes become so dim that we cannot see the truth in your Word that speaks with such clarity?  We are guilty Lord, of wandering, out of the way of all that you have spoken to us all through the years.  We are guilty Lord, of accepting our circumstances and remaining within those places, amongst the multitude of the dead.  It is not what you want for us.  John not only warns us as to the desires of the enemy but more importantly to the promise of Jesus himself… “the thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”  Lord as with Jonah, break us to the point of exhaustion and let us learn from scripture how very close you are in times of dire circumstances and situations created by our flesh and its weakness.  Steady us Father as we cry out to you for assistance, as we ask in humility for your hand to once again to be upon us and let us walk in surety upon the path of righteousness.  We love you Father and thank you for the sacrifice of your son, Jesus, and the gift of thine Holy Spirit!

Daniel

10/21/2015

The “fever” was the simple diagnosis given by those around and though I could faintly hear their conversations, I was incapable of response in any form whether it be vocal and or with movement.  I was tired, actually a bit incensed, by the throng of people tending to my every need yet I could discern from their faces the seriousness of the illness that now consumed my being. My internal body temperature, extremely high, manifested itself with the profusion of sweat, clothes drenched with such and an ever present cotton mouth that bore great ferocity.

Once again, lying on my back, something felt different today.  The heat that I had experienced just a few days earlier now seemed much more intense as an illumination of light, restrictive in its scope, broke through the darkness that had been holding me as of late.  Gone was the scurry of those around my bed and it was beyond quiet; too quiet.  It was eerie and I could not help but wonder where the army of caregivers had gone?  The constant state of thirst had not disappeared and I tried to moisten my lips with any saliva that could be garnered; unfortunately, moisture was nonexistent.

Opening my eyes, a bit more, I realized that there was something actually covering my eyelids and keeping them from opening up all the way.  As I tried to lift my right hand, I noticed it too was bound, as was my left one next to their appropriate sides.  Still lying, I noticed, in my state of confusion, that the air was filled with dust particles of dirt as a small breeze wisped, periodically, in an around my body.

Coming to my senses, now with them all working in conjunction with one another, I realized I was entirely encompassed by a thin layer of fabric, lightly holding me with its weight. Finally, it dawned on me.  I had been prepared for burial and they had, in fact, without their knowledge, buried me alive.   How could they make such a mistake…?

…I struggled to free my hand as I moved it to and fro, and then, once free, was able to rid myself of the thin layer of burial clothing so carefully wrapped around me.  The illumination, now beyond bright caused me to squint as I looked up and into the sky; so clear, so vividly white were the clouds as they lighted across the bluest of blue skies.

I sat up and began to work my way out of my entombment, carefully removing small bits of rock and rubble that had collected on my lower extremities.  The slab of rock, with its volume, once an easy enclosure for my eternal resting place, now revealed a crack right down the middle.  Though I had little strength, the sky, the breeze, and of course the light, energized me to slide one half of the rock to the side.  With my last bit of energy, a final push forced the slab to yield and I found myself climbing out of my tomb and into the living once again.

To my surprise as I gathered my thoughts, I saw a young woman, just a few feet away, climbing out of the same, while I heard others, in the distance, faintly crying for help.  So many slabs of stone, reduced to rubble and I was now confused as to the events unfolding before my very eyes.  Another emerged, and then another and as I slowly walked in and around the rubble I saw a hand surface between the slabs of a massive stone, and it looked beyond frail.  Another gentlemen, in our mutual state of confusion, also with remnants of burial clothing still attached, assisted me as we struggled to free the being, now begging for our help, that lay so close to freedom.  Finally, we were able to pry the slab apart just enough for the delicate older woman to slide through as we pulled her weak body to the surface.  We sat, we three, gasping for air.

Thirst would drive us to stand once again as we carefully assisted the elderly woman up and out of the cemetery as we passed, in and around, tomb after tomb empty of their inhabitants.  On the outskirts of the city, nearing still, we began to hear, as people scurried within the city walls, of the dead, some still partially wrapped in their graveclothes, wandering the streets in confusion. 

The young child, crying quietly, as if fearful to be heard, caught my attention as he cowered in the door opening of small abandoned home.  Tears streamed down his face and discolored the dust that fastened itself to him; he too had escaped his tomb.  How, I am not sure but the tattered linens gave away his former state and he obviously was not only afraid, but alone.  I reached down, picked up the young boy and wiped the tears from his face and calmed him as best that I could.  I too was a father and could not bear the grief and the uncertainty that overtook his poor countenance. 

I asked the gentleman, not knowing his name, if he could take care of the elderly woman why I assisted the young boy and we soon parted ways. Progressing deeper into the city, we were met, with great care, as multitudes of people offered us water and bits of bread.  The little boy and I paused for a brief moment and sat down, up and against the temple wall, partaking of the life giving sustenance.  Never had bread and water tasted so good though we were both struggling to keep it all down.

Both exhausted, we sat for a while longer.  The little boy, now calm on my lap, with one arm around my lower back, held fast with great strength for a child of his size.  As I listened intently, to those around, I heard of the mass resurrection and greater still, the reunion of families, as they would unite once again.

Thoughts of my family, my wife and my four children and our forthcoming reunion brought a tear to my eye and it soon would find its way down my discolored cheek as well.  His little hand surprised me, as he carefully reached up and now wiped the tear from my face.  We looked deep into each others eyes and I brought him near to me and hugged him with a compassion that had been previously absent in my life.  His little arms encircled my neck and I felt peace in the midst of confusion.

We sat, embracing each other, for how long I am not sure, when out of nowhere a young mother, crying quietly, reached down and touched the back of the young boy and carefully whispered, Timothy?  The young boy, slowly turned his head, still holding my neck tightly in our embrace.  His grip lessened and the fear now turned to joy and a smile emerged that I shall never forget.   He let go of my neck and reached both hands out to the now crying, uncontrollably, mother as she reached down for her young son and pulled him closely and into her own bosom.  She fell beside me, with Timothy in hand, and simply hugged and kissed the young boy without limits.  I too, began to cry, witnessing a love and a joy that I had never in my life seen.

As we stood, the young mother now, with Timothy in one arm, reached up with her free arm, embraced me for a moment and simply kissed my cheek.  She turned and quickly disappeared into the mass of humanity bustling here and there.  I too, with thoughts of reunion, would as well step lively towards my home not far away…

I tapped lightly upon the dusty door, now with one hinge missing, off balance and in need of repair.  An anticipation, not previously encountered, weighed heavy as I heard the voice of my wife tell the children to see who was at the door.  My youngest daughter, now older than I remembered, pulled the door slowly and peeked out between the small crack she had created.   She stood motionless, staring at me as if she had seen a ghost.  Quickly she turned, slammed the door and I could hear her run back into the house screaming “it is father, it is father.”

I stood, not knowing what to do next when the door began once again to open slowly.  This time I saw, in the same small crack the love of my life, my bride, now aged with burden, with the children clinging, ever so close to her dress.  I reached in and gently grabbed her hand and proceeded to open the door to its fullness.   We stood, again motionless, looking at one another deeply and I simply pulled her close and embraced her with a love that was not of me.  The children, now crying, held on to our legs, partaking of the love that flowed with an abundance.  I was home. I was with my family.  My thought was simple…I was not the same man of old, but was new…I had been given “a second chance.” 

Daniel

Matthew 27, towards the end of the chapter, speaks of the last moments of Christ on the cross and some of the cataclysmic “happenings” that unfolded  as he breathed his last breath.  Verses 50-53 “Jesus, when he cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.  And, behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent; and the graves were opened; and many of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many.”

07/08/2015

I knew I was getting close.  The path once barren, unidentifiable at times and relentless in its daily offering of loneliness now widened a bit and brought a passerby, also weary, every so often.  Varying pockets of periodic wind ushered forth dust clouds that rose and fell, darted in and around me as if arranged by one greater and in control of their destiny.  The blister on my right hand that earlier had seeped with bodily fluid and caused much discomfort now held my staff sure in its rough callused state with a greater resolve and grip as I neared my destination.

The long journey from Cyrene had withered my physical being greatly as I felt my outer robe, undergarments as well, hang loosely on and almost off of my body.  My lips, burnt by both sun and wind, were chapped, horribly cracked and yearned significantly for moisture.  My skin felt pulled, almost taught if you will with the same lack of hydration and was tender to the touch. Unwelcomed rashes, everywhere on my body, burned with each step.

Though I was tired, I mentally escaped once again into deep contemplation, considering the Passover feast that would begin shortly, the rumors of a common man named Jesus, not only performing miracles but challenging the leaders of Jewish tradition, and my anticipation of finally walking the very streets of Jerusalem that my grandfather had spoken of with such passion.  Stories, one after another, would pour forth until tears would envelope his eyes, cascading down and through the crevices of his now aged face, as he recounted his younger years in the land of his forefathers; that of Abraham, Moses and David.

Nearing the pinnacle of the small mountain I had every intention of resting for a while but in the distance, it appeared, out of nowhere, unfolding itself before my very eyes…the city of Jerusalem.  I stood motionless, as a cool breeze wisped over my body, taking in the entirety of its mass, and I too shed a tear, feeling it distinctly as it worked its way down my cheek before being swallowed up by the dryness of my skin.  I pushed forward with a new resolve as it beckoned me with its magnificence.       

The activity outside the gate, throngs of people coming and going, astounded me as I came close to the entrance.  Just inside I heard what I thought was some form of fight between several people as the atmosphere changed in an instant.  To my surprise, a man was carrying a cross, horribly disfigured, unlike any other I had before witnessed in my life as each laborious step looked to be his last.  He had obviously been beaten, tremendously, and the gaping flesh wounds, with his skin torn and hanging, exposed bone and bodily tissue openly.  The orifices bled profusely and the deep dark crimson blood encompassed his body and left a trail that was astounding in its quantity.

I literally felt sick.  If that were not enough, people hurled insults, threw dirt and rotting fruit, and spat upon the man with little regard to his state of physical exhaustion.  Something, what I am not sure, drove me closer still to him as I pushed myself through the crowd.  To my surprise as I came ever so near to him, I encountered a few women who wept and pleaded for it all to stop, walking ever so slowly with him who neared failure physically.  I tried to comfort them, with words at first and then, the one who was beyond overly distraught, simply collapsed in my arms, unable to stand in her strength any longer. Then I heard her whisper… “Jesus.”

As if in orchestration, he too fell, not even a couple seconds later, and though the guards whipped him, his body lay motionless, unresponsive to further beatings and in a state of disregard as to all that was happening to him.  The lady, proclaimed loudly, as if with her final breath, “Jesus…my son”!  I fell to my knees, incapable myself of standing any longer and I wept, uncontrollably, realizing that this must be his mother.

Unexpectedly, Jesus moved once again and with a final attempt, tried to lift the large cross that now lay over his being but he simply collapsed under its weight.   I looked, deeply into His eyes, and to my disbelief there was a love that peered compassionately back at me as our eyes met unexpectedly. How could this be?

Without warning, a guard screamed at me and at first I was unsure as to why?  He then yelled again, this time more emphatically, walked over and grabbed my robe and tried to lift me to my feet.  I resisted as he now pointed at Jesus, yelling and insistent that I pick up the cross of Jesus and carry it the rest of the way.  With a whip in one hand, he unsheathed His sword with the other, and frantically waived it in my face shouting all the more.  I looked away from the guard momentarily, down and directly at his mother, and she, as well, possessed the same love in her eyes though her face was awash with anguish.  I could no longer resist and rose slowly to my feet.

Fatigue, both physically and emotionally held me in an undesirable, depleted state, and as I reached down for the massive cross, its weight nearly crippled me, where I stood, as I lifted it off of Jesus.  Bending down, with the cross now secure, I extended my free hand down, grasped under his arm and lifted Him as well until He stood, wearily, beneath with me.  We stepped slowly but unfortunately the bottom portion of the cross held fast in a hole along the path and we stumbled, with its entire burden, as it swayed left and then right.  Somehow, I had not noticed the crown of thorns that dug deep into His head and as I tried to steady us all, they too would find their way into the side of my face. 

At first I had not felt the whips but now they stung as the guards continually beat Jesus with the strands of leather overlapping onto my back and around my legs as well.  Gasping for air and in desperate need of water, I found myself, without warning, moistening my lips with His blood that had worked its way down from the cross and onto my face.  If that were not enough, my hands felt the small fragments of His soft flesh as they hung to the splintered cross and I began to weep, walking slower still, in the midst of the circumstance that had enveloped me. 

Screams welcomed our approach to the place of crucifixion as one of the other unfortunate men withered in pain as they drove the nails into his hands and feet.  The guards yelled at me once more, to drop the cross, and with one final swing of the whip that stung us both with its ferocity I laid it down gently as Jesus too fell to the ground.  In a matter of seconds, they dragged Him away with great cruelty and readied to fasten Him to our cross.  I backed away ever so gradually and to my surprise, I felt the soft warm hand of His mother sliding into my hand from behind. 

I turned and looked at her once more before I fell in exhaustion…

Luke 23:26 “And as they led him away, they laid hold upon one Simon, of Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus.”

“For many are called, but few are chosen.”

Father, your son, Jesus, was “disallowed of men, despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, beaten and crucified.”  Paul “of the Jews five times received I forty stripes save one, three times was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, three times suffered ship wreck, in weariness and painfulness, in hunger and thirst, in fasting often and in cold and nakedness.”  Many others were stoned, sawn asunder, burned, beheaded, clubbed, boiled, given to wild animals…tortured for their faith and yet…chosen!

Father, forgive me for I have truly fallen short in my complacency, my comfort, and my cowardice.  I kneel before you this day, humbled, and longing for that same Spirit of those “chosen” and that counts my life but as dung. 

Daniel

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

06/17/2014

Father, as we sit this morning, in your presence, our hearts stir for thee.  Our spirits, our innermost beings desire intimacy, and not just casual in nature, but to more of an extreme; they long, they yearn, with an intensity that defies the senses.  We are in need, desperate need of all that you would desire for and in our lives.  May that which is written glorify you, our God, may it glorify your Son, our Savior and may it glorify the Holy Spirit, our Comforter.  In thine hands, we commit our spirits this day.

1 Samuel 301-8 “And it came to pass, when David and his men were come to Ziklag on the third day, that the Amalekites had invaded the south, and Ziklag, and smitten Ziklag and burned it with fire; and had taken the women captives, that were therein: they slew not any, either great or small, but carried them away, and went on their way.  So David and his men came to the city; and, behold, it was burned with fire; and their wives, and their sons, and their daughters, were taken captives.  Then David and the people that were with him lifted up their voice and wept, until they had no more power to weep.  And David’s two wives were taken captives, Ahinoam the Jezreelitess, and Abigail the wife of Nahal the Carmelite.  And David was greatly distressed; for the people spake of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and for his daughters:  but David encouraged himself in the Lord his God.  And David said to Abiathar the priest, Ahimelech’s son, I pray thee, bring me hither the ephod.  And Abiathar brought hither thither the ephod to David.  And David inquired at the Lord, saying, shall I pursue after this troop? shall I overtake them?  And he answered him, pursue: for thou shalt surely overtake them, and without fail recover all.”

David would find himself in quite the precarious position.  In his absence, and in the absence of those men committed to his endeavors, their families, their wives and children, were now captives.  So distraught were those that had aforetime been willing to forsake all for him, now find themselves in a place of rebellion, filled with frustration, overcome with anger, to the point of the possible stoning of David; in their estimation, the one singular man, responsible for the loss of their families.

David too, as noted, “was greatly distressed’ probably feeling much of the same.  He would have been, undoubtedly, bearing the burden of such a great loss.  David, however, had been long in the school of the Lord as His disciple and would not abandon, would not turn away from the one constant in his life; that of his relationship with the God that had traveled, the One that had traversed, the One that simply walked down the paths of life with him.    

It notes that David, “encouraged himself” or he attached himself, retained, seized, strengthened himself, “in the Lord his God.”  I love the thought that he, in the midst of this tribulation, does not turn from God with lack of understanding, as we, may find ourselves, sometimes, trying to figure out “why” this or that has happened or is happening to us?  David rather than running from God chooses to run towards God, with a simple trust, a humble faith and with an unfailing, unwavering mindset that “his God,” the God of all creation, in His Omnipotence, with His Omnipresence, could be interested in the affairs of but one man.  Do we count our lives, as His sons and His daughters, of equal importance?

David, now surely prostrate, is bold enough to ask two questions specific of his God.  “And David inquired at the Lord, saying, shall I pursue after this troop? shall I overtake them?”   

What follows is of great encouragement and it fills me to overflowing with an abundance and a richness so inexplicably sweet that it drips with savor and aroma!

“And he answered him, pursue: for thou shalt surely overtake them, and without fail recover all.”

Let us not read this too quickly; once again, contemplate the words before us…

“And he answered him.”  I wonder, do we expect the same?  I am fearful that our relationship with the Father is so lacking that we simply do not believe that He will answer the many questions we may pose.  Though David was given immediate response, we must be careful, ever vigilant in our resolve to wait upon Him to reveal the answers we may seek.

Christ, near His end in the flesh, would share intimately these most profound words to those close to Him; the volume of this passage, as if just spoken, has more than withstood time… John 16:13 notes, “Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will show you things to come.”  This Spirit of truth, the very essence of Christ himself, is within, each one of us, longing to speak that which he hears. 

The Father, does not mince words but rather answers specific, “pursue: for thou shalt surely overtake them.”   I find it more than thought-provoking, that the very words forming the question, are the same words that would form His answer?!

(I am reminded of a time, in the midst of a personal encounter with the Lord years ago, through strange means, I clearly heard Him ask me, “what do you want from me?”  I was fearful to answer, yet, after much contemplation, as He patiently waited for my answer, I simply uttered, “all I really want is more of you.”  Interesting enough, in the midst of life and its trials, its tribulations and seeking guidance on a myriad of issues year after year, I found and still to this day, find myself crying out to the Lord quite often, “what do you want from me?”  His answer… “all I really want is more of you.”)

He, however, God, the loving Father, goes one step further; with a promise, and as with Job, He surely encouraged David with a further blessing and adds to the answer, “and without fail recover all.”  I can only imagine, as one with family, the reunion of those, within each family unit, to their loved ones after such an awful, heart wrenching, experience.

Father, I wonder, if this passage is not a very picture of our lives?  The enemy comes in unaware, with absolutely no regard for ill prepared, unsuspecting victims, stealing, pillaging and capturing that which we hold dear; simply for his selfish pleasure.  And we, sometimes, or many times, as with David, find ourselves “greatly distressed.”  Today, let us, respond in kind.  May we seek you out, encouraging ourselves in you, our God, without fear of asking questions.  And though the answer may tarry at times, be diligent in waiting for your guidance.  Again, as with David, may we find comfort and may we find courage to walk in that which you will speak.  Promises abound, for those, willing to give their lives to the One that desires to do the same and actually did in the form of His Son.  Thank you so much for your love that is limitless and without boundaries, for it and of itself, pursues, overtakes, and recovers all!

I am humbly yours and continually “undone”

Daniel