Jesus…That's All

05/15/2018

My eyes became exceedingly dry, without moisture as I laid irritated but anxious, tossing and turning, colder than normal, and fighting to close off my mind to that of Jesus.  I had seen Him earlier the previous day, surrounded by His disciples, as they shielded his appearance to that of the masses; I found this odd as I, along with others, were always so very excited to be near to Him, anxious to listen, amazed as to His healings and simply loved being consumed by His absolute presence.  I had not witnessed this manner of secrecy before, as He normally walked openly among the people, and it stirred my curiosity as to their purpose.

They walked slowly, yet, at the same time seemed to be in a bit of a hurry towards their destination.  I kept close, as they talked among themselves, their voices muffled, causing me further intrigue, and they were just unaware of my proximity to them as they all clamored near to His being.  They turned the corner, close to my home, and descended into my neighbor’s home and proceeded up and into an upper room.  I stood closely, hugging the stone, still warm from the day, yet now cooling quite quickly, at the base of the home and listened intently to their conversation through the opened window directly above my head.  The windows, open to the full originally, soon were closed as the evening breeze brought forth a sting of cold.

With their conversation now completely cut off to my ears, I wandered back home, somewhat frustrated and ate our traditional Passover feast with my family.  I went through the motions, but I was somewhere else within the confines of my mind; I knew that Jesus was probably enjoying the same tradition and I longed within, deeply, to be partaking of such with Him.

I also had become aware that Jesus, His disciples as well, would, as in the past, head for the Garden of Gethsemane at some point in the evening; it seemed to be one of their favorite gathering places.  Tonight though, if they were to go to Gethsemane, would bring opportunity for me to once again be amongst them without their knowledge; they would have to pass right by my home and more specific my room.  I went to my bed early, purposefully leaving my window open wide, anxiously anticipating their possible passing by?!

Minutes turned to hours and I found myself dozing off, only periodically, as unsuspecting passersby would cause me to take attention to their steps and or their voices.  The early morning chill, now biting a bit harder, caused me to wrap my naked body in my bed linen.  I had lost hope that they would venture to the garden, yet I laid, still, aware and anticipating the possibility.

Without warning, I heard not just a few walking, but surely a small group and I wished it was them. I lifted from my bed, peering out and towards the sound of the voices, careful to stay hidden within the cover of dark, and they came nearer still with each passing moment.  As they approached my window, I slid down and away from their sight, but still close to the opened window and listened with all that I had for the voices that might be familiar to me; it was them! 

I waited only until I was certain they would not see me follow and jumped out of the window quietly with bed linen still covering me; I wrapped it tighter around my body and slowly shadowed them to Gethsemane.

Soon they came to a stop and I witnessed Jesus, from a distance far enough not to be seen but within ear shot, and He said to His disciples, “Sit here, while I go and pray yonder.”  He then took Peter, James and John, separating them from the rest, and came closer to where I was hiding.  Almost instantly his countenance changed; for the first time, I saw him filled with grief and uncertainty.  I had no idea as to the cause and sat increasingly disheartened; this was not the same Jesus that I had encountered so many times before and I began to break emotionally.  He then said to them, “my soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me.”  I began to cry, trying not to be heard, and was overcome with a myriad of emotion as to what was playing out before my eyes?

He then, alone, went a little further still, away from their sight, and fell on his face.  I stepped closer, unwilling to leave Him alone as the others soon fell asleep, and He prayed, saying, “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.”   He was in tremendous agony, praying more fervently, and I watched, crying all the more, with eyes now beyond blurred, as droplets of sweat fell as blood to the ground.   I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell at the disciples, now sleeping heavily, to awake and come to His aid but something held my tongue.

I could do nothing but sit in agony as my heart burst with compassion and with a love not of this world.  I wished I could have reached out to him, just to let him know that he was not alone but I felt as if I was intruding on such an intimate conversation that I simply sat whimpering as a small child, under the cover of darkness.

Without warning, He rose, and walked back, again His countenance changing instantly, now with a profound confidence, and approached those disciples still sleeping.  He simply noted, “the hour is come; behold, the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.  Rise up, let us go; lo, he that betrayeth me is at hand.”

No sooner had he finished his sentence, I heard in the distance a small group of people quickly approaching our location; the closer they came it became evident that something was dreadfully wrong as swords and clubs accompanied their arrival.  I soon was overcome with fear and began to distance myself from the situation; I walked away quietly and soon their angry voices began to diminish with distance now between me and them.  My heart began to beat terribly within my chest and each step away from Jesus brought forth a greater revelation of my cowardice.

I turned back and as I came close to them once again suddenly, His disciples scurried past me, one after another running and fleeing for their lives and I stood utterly confused and conflicted.  I watched as the angry band of men forcefully bound and led Jesus away and from the garden; I simply could not bear seeing Him forsaken and though I knew my life too might be hanging in the balance, seeing Jesus alone was too much for me.  I stood crying, now in full sight and I screamed with all that was within me…Jesus!  I simply wanted him to know that He was not alone, that there still remained one, near to Him.  

Several of the men broke off from the group and quickly began to push and pull me angrily as they beat me with their clubs; the pain from each blow somehow quickened me and I struggled with them as they tried their best to contain me.  With one last burst of energy I twisted and turned and felt freedom from their grasp as I ran away naked from them.  I ran and ran, not looking back and soon found myself exhausted from the early morning experience.  I was tired, thirsty, naked, cold and ashamed that I had not been brave enough to endure the suffering with Jesus…

Father, this story has caused me to contemplate much.  Why is the young man, one that followed you with fervor, endangering his own life, on that unforgettable early morning, held in scripture with no name?  I can only imagine, simply, that it is so, because it affords us an opportunity to place each of our names in his stead.  How many of us have followed you with a zeal that is unmatched, loving you with much passion, seeking your face with urgency, only to find ourselves too, unaware and or aware, of our forsaking you for something else of this world, absolutely naked and with our heads, once held high, now hanging in disbelief, in doubt, in confusion, in uncertainty as to your presence in our lives?  Recently Father, you made it so very clear as to the tactic of him, that I want desperately to refuse to mention, but must so that there is a clear understanding as to his subtleties.  The very first question posed in scripture was that of the serpent, to Eve, as you heard it voiced and brought to life so many years ago.  “Yea, hath God said, ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?  With that question he revealed the one tactic he would use on each and every human being that would seek relationship with you…doubt!  If he can take us down this path of doubt, indecision comes forth, hesitation arises, confusion resides, and mistrust finds its way into our lives, weakening our resolve, hindering our walk and, if not addressed, traversing this earth, inadequate, in your stead, amongst and in a world that is so desperate for light; the light that shall expose the darkness and what binds them, and us too as believers, rendering us ineffectual, weak and woefully powerless.  It is time, as each day passes into the next, bringing us closer to the end, for us, that follow Him quietly and, in the shadows, to awaken from our slumber, to hear with a sense of urgency, the words spoken by your Son, to those closest to him that early morning in the crisp air of the Garden of Gethsemane, “Rise up, let us go…”       

Matthew 25:34-40 “Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was hungry, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.  Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee hungry, and fed thee?  Or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in?  Or naked, and clothed thee?  Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?  And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these thy brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Father, as with Christ, we acknowledge that the trials, the tribulation, and the persecution WILL follow our rising.  Fill us, Father, with nothing less than that of the Spirit of your Son, that power from on high, that will cause us to endure beyond our own limitations!  We love you Father, we thank you for the Passion of Christ and for the gift of thine Holy Spirit.

Undone,

Daniel

01/05/2018

I sat waiting and in disbelief, with great fear and trepidation, as to what I knew was forthcoming.  Yet my greater focus was not so much on me, but for the other man, beaten horrifically beyond recognition.  He was bleeding profusely all over his body; his flesh had been ripped off and away exposing his inner tissue, his tendons, his muscles and his bones.  He was in great pain, shaking uncontrollably, as the dirt floor became saturated and stained with the crimson red pouring forth from his body.

The soldiers, preparing for our punishment, were frustrated and angry that there was now a third prisoner that would require a cross of crucifixion.  I could barely watch as they now, the entire band of soldiers, began to abuse him mercilessly.  “They plaited a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand: and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying Hail, King of the Jews!  And they spit upon him, and took the reed, and smote him on the head.”  I was astonished when his blood and fragments of his flesh traveled the distance between us and found their way upon me; they both peppered my body with their heat.  My first inclination was to wipe and rid myself of this intrusion, but for some reason, I could not and simply allowed it to remain untouched. 

I sat, dumbfounded, as he held the agony of pain within; he seemed resolute, beyond any man I had ever encountered, to portray nothing less than an inner peace, to hold his anger, and carefully hold any indication of judgement to those that railed against him.  He uttered not a single word, refusing, with the same resolve, not to stoop to their level of unhinged madness. It was all too much for me to take in, too much to consider, too much to understand and for the first time, in many years, tears puddled in my eyes.  They soon, without capability of being bound any longer, eventually overflowed unhindered down and into the crevices of my aged face leaving a trail of warmth that equally matched that of his blood; they felt good.  I wondered, in the midst of the turmoil and chaos that surrounded our last hours, who this man was?

As they dropped the cross upon my shoulders and back I nearly buckled under the immense weight that now became an unwanted part of me.  My flesh screamed with pain as the splintered fragments of wood from previous uses pierced me relentlessly.  Now carefully balancing the cross and gaining a sure foot hold, my eyes were fixed upon the man that had captivated my thoughts; how could he bare such a weight in his condition?  I saw and heard him gasp as they too dropped the ornament of pain upon him; he fell instantly to his knees as he unsuccessfully tried to steady the weight upon his gaping wounds.  I could no longer simply stand by without action; I immediately dropped my cross and went to him.  I lifted his cross while he, once again, stood slowly to his feet.  The loud threats and stings of the whips from the soldiers did not deter me.  I assisted in placing the cross gingerly on his back and withstood the onslaught of further beating until I was certain he had the cross in balance and under control as we stood together.  

Walking slowly towards the place of the skull, that of Calvary, and the crucifixion that awaited us, my thoughts were overcome with him; if all he had been through at the hands of the Roman soldiers were not enough he now withstood the mass abuse, from his fellow countrymen, along the streets leading out of Jerusalem.  Some were yelling and screaming, almost in unison, “crucify him!”  Others threw rotten fruit while still others spit upon him as he passed near and by them. 

I heard, through the mass of hysteria, someone shout his name; Jesus!  Yet it was not in a tone of disdain but in one of compassion.  I looked to the place of the herald and saw a woman crying without hindrance and uncontrollably, reaching as she repeated his name, Jesus, this time now with greater volume, with groans of disbelief as he passed by.  She fell, unable to stand, as she witnessed the horrific state of his physical being and the dreadful scene playing out before her very eyes.

Suddenly and without warning time slowed and an eerie quiet fell upon me.  I began to hear my father’s voice absent so many years from my life; I was instantly transported back in time, to a place of total comfort, as my father recited passages from the handwritten scroll that consumed his free time.  I was too young to understand the words that he spoke but somehow, they brought me comfort.  I watched, somehow in a time warp, as my father, sitting beside my bed, began to tear up, his voice cracking, over and over again, until he cleared his throat with a great cough.  He paused for a moment, trying to gather his composure, wiping the tears now cascading upon the old scroll, and repeated once more what he had just read, with a very quiet but clear tone; yet this time he read it slowly as each word hung on his lips…

“behold, my servant will prosper, he will be high and lifted up and greatly exalted.  Just as many were astonished at you, my people, so His appearance was marred more than any man and His form more than the sons of men.  Thus, He will sprinkle many nations, kings will shut their mouths on account of Him; for what had not been told them they will see, and what they had not heard they will understand.  Who has believed our message? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?  For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of parched ground; He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him, nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.  He was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and like one from whom men hide their face He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.  Surely our griefs He himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.  But He was pierced through for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.  All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; But the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.  He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.  By oppression and judgment, He was taken away; and as for His generation, who considered that He was cut off out of the land of the living for the transgression of my people, to whom the stroke was due?  His grave was assigned with wicked men, yet He was with a rich man in His death, because He had done no violence, nor was there any deceit in His mouth.  But the Lord was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief; if He would render Himself as a guilt offering, He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days, and the good pleasure of the Lord will prosper in His hand.  As a result of the anguish of His soul, He will see it and be satisfied; by His knowledge the Righteous One, my Servant, will justify the many, as He will bear their iniquities.  Therefore, I will allot Him a portion with the great, and He will divide the booty with the strong; because He poured out Himself to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet He Himself bore the sin of many, and interceded for the transgressors.”  

I felt the heat of the nail near to my wrist and then heard the loud clash that brought hammer to nails head.  It was the extreme pain that ushered me back and in to my circumstance.  The next nail, it too hot from sitting in the sun, penetrated my flesh with the same intensity.  Looking down, as they placed my feet, one on top of the other, I saw the larger nail, twice the size of the other two being carefully placed upon my foot.  I watched fearfully as the soldier raised the hammer much higher and with greater concentration.  The clash, of hammer and nail, once again, resonated throughout my entire being and I quivered with pulsating pains as the second and third swing brought a sure fastening of my feet to the foothold of the cross.  My entire body now shook with pulsating shockwaves of relentless, persistent, unyielding agony.

Lifting my head, gasping for air, I saw, in the distance, the man, Jesus, now being assisted by another man towards us.  I, unfortunately, relived my earlier experience as they, methodically and void of any mercy, fastened Jesus to his cross of crucifixion!  I closed my eyes tightly, unwilling to witness the savagery being released, yet, the sounds refused to be muffled.  The hammer to nail experience, through bone and tissue, once more reverberated upon the hill, and it only ceased when the securing of man to wood was sure.

I could not help but cry out as tears flowed freely and without interference and I felt their warmth running down the front of my body.  Looking over at Jesus, through eyes partially blurred and distorted, I saw him lift his head and eyes up towards the heavens.  I thought he too was gasping for air, yet he began to speak softly through the turmoil that held us in close proximity to one another; our arms seemingly stretched out and reaching towards each other.  “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

My heart felt as if it exploded and I simply broke! 

Broken not for the circumstance that held me fast with its excruciating pain, but because the words of my father echoed once again within the confines of my mind and with a clarity that now shook me to the very core of my existence.  “He will be high and lifted up,” “his appearance marred more than any man and his form more than the sons of men,” “he will sprinkle many nations,” “he was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” “He was pierced through for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed,” “He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth,” “by His knowledge the Righteous One, my Servant, will justify the many, as He will bear their iniquities,” “He poured out Himself to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet He Himself bore the sin of many, and interceded for the transgressors.”  

I began to cry, with full understanding, that the man that had earlier in the morning “sprinkled” me with his blood, was the same man that caused my father to cry and contemplate so many years before the words that dripped with truth.  I could only muster a couple of words as I felt small, I felt ashamed, I felt guilty, I felt dirty, and more than unworthy in his presence.  I opened up my hand towards him, fingers reaching for him and said, “Lord, remember me when you come into thy kingdom.”

Jesus, lifting his head slowly and now looking back at me, with eyes not of this world, with outstretched arms fastened willingly, his fingers also reaching towards me said, “Verily, I say unto thee, today shalt thou be with me in paradise.”

Father, what more could be written, of old and in the present?  Men tried to stifle your words as they crucified you, thinking, incorrectly, that death would or could somehow silence you.  History, that too written by men, attempts to asphyxiate the words that you so eloquently spoke years ago and it too failed and fails. The desires of men, not kind to your love, have tried for years, and still today, to diminish the love that you possess for us with untruths, lies, misconceptions, and any vile means available to thwart, the truth.  We find ourselves contemplating, with greater depth, the wonder of the words of your Son today and His Passion; “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”  Oh Lord, how very precious can the simplest combination of words be in the lives of those that would seek your face and to a greater extent to those that do not know, in its entirety, the love which you embody specifically for them?  The thoughts of Isaiah, written thousands of years ago, begin to unveil the mystery which is that of your Son.  “For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, and returns not thither, but waters the earth, and makes it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater: so shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.”  Forgive us Father, we confess that we have not hidden your words in our heart, ever ready to be spoken to the “one” in need of refreshment.  Who might the “one” be Lord in a land filled with a mass of humanity yet so very near to us in our small circle of influence?  He or she is waiting, looking, longing for something not of this world, floundering in circumstance, dying a slow death filled with anger, with despair, with depression, and an utter lack of love.  Oh Lord, hear our prayers this day, give us opportunity to reach with outstretched arms, with nothing less than the love you embody, to the “one” chosen for an encounter today and let us, with humility and compassion, speak “your words” of truth and “your words” of love unconditional.  Why now, why the urgency?  Simply because just the “one” is of great value, he or she is worth the cost paid upon the cross by Him who willingly offered, willingly hung, willingly suffered, and ultimately overcame death by His limitless love.  I wonder what more you can do Father, to express to those of us here on earth, as each day passes, your love for us?  Your plan of redemption was and is beyond anything we could have ever considered in the limits of our flesh.  We find ourselves, hopelessly at your feet, desiring more of you Lord, more of what you desire for our lives, yet, and most humbly, not for self any longer; pour out through us and to the “ones” of your choosing today and every day that we have breath.  Let our last words mimic those of Christ as noted by John, the one and only disciple present at His crucifixion, be “I thirst.”  That thirst, surely, is not for that of fluid, but for just “one” more that might come to know thee even at the end of our lives!   

Daniel 

09/21/2017

at the well…

The heat had become thick, lingering all the more in my modest home, as early morning gave way to its later counterpart.  The sounds and activities, now much more evident, of the inhabitants outside my one room dwelling beckoned for my participation.  Yet, I lay, as with every morning, reliving my life; thoughts of failed relationships with multiple men and those too of my female acquaintances overwhelm me.  My family had all but disowned me, disappointed in who I had become, ashamed as to how I was perceived by our village and left me to a world of loneliness.

Soon the tears would come, slowly at first, until the deluge would issue forth without hinder; small whimpers soon gave way to deeper groans of hurt as depression consumed me once more; I wondered if unsuspecting passersby heard the moans of intense pain?  My night gown, sticking now closer to my flesh, becoming inundated with both tears and perspiration held me closer still to my bed of despair. 

The unsuspecting shriek and bark of a dog, in close proximity to my door, frightened me back to the reality of my painful existence.  Now sitting up, along the side of my bed, I tried to moisten my lips, thirst now overtaking me, but was unsuccessful.  I took my hands, swept them across my face, and carefully used the sweat to pull my tangled hair back and into a pony tail.  I tasted the excess still upon the palm of my hand and the saltiness stung my cracked lips and deterred any further indulgence.

I rose from my bed and walked slowly across the room, with little energy, to the small basin that would hold my drinking water; it was bone dry.  I feared, knowing that yesterday’s lingering within my home of isolation, the choosing to remain in the confines of my room, might be consequential.  Near to the basin was the larger water pot that I somehow hoped would still be holding a bit of refreshing water but it too was empty.  I would have no choice but to ready myself for a trip to the watering hole.

As I reached down to pick up the larger water pot, my dress, once beautiful and full of color, now woefully laying tattered and worn, slipped off my shoulder and ripped a bit more.  My emaciated body was simply incapable of filling the void becoming greater still as each day passed into the next; I had not eaten for a couple of days but food held little if any value for me.  I had all but given up.

Opening the door slowly, the hinges creaked, and to my demise announced my forthcoming presence to the masses.  The wall of heat, coupled with the inability to acclimate my eyes to the illumination of the sun, caused me to step back into my home briefly.  Remaining for a few moments, I felt what little energy I possessed, begin to diminish as I tried to balance the larger pot on my back.

I could not have walked more than 20 feet when I felt, their eyes, those lacking compassion, peering upon me with great judgement.  Soon to follow came the insults, spoken with anger and disdain, as they too lacked any sense of human compassion.  I wondered, the watering hole still in the distance, if I would even make the journey feeling overly weak.  Again, trying to moisten my lips, I felt the warmth of blood now oozing a bit from my parched lips and without thinking I wiped the crimson red upon my sleeve; looking at its concentrated color upon the dry dusted background of my garment stunned me with its intensity.

Nearing the watering hole, Jacob’s well, with no energy, the time was now nearing 12:00 noon.  I knew from previous experience that I would more than likely not encounter anyone at this time drawing water and I welcomed the loneliness that awaited me. 

To my surprise, as I traversed the last few steps towards the well, a lone Jewish man sat; he too looked tired, hungry, thirsty and disheveled from his journey, from where I did not know nor did I care.  Our eyes met and I quickly turned mine away, hoping somehow that I could draw the water I needed without any conversation and or further encounter and be on my way?  I approached the mouth of the well, still careful not to make eye contact, and lowered the smaller vessel towards the water.  I could feel, though I had refused eye contact, that his eyes fell heavily upon me; I had years of experiential knowledge developing this sense.

“Give me a drink.”

Not sure how to respond, I lifted my head and allowed our eyes to meet once again; it was if he was looking deep within my spirit, beyond just a normal glance, and a peace came upon me.  Dumbfounded by his words, replaying them over in my mind, still looking intensely back and into his eyes, I noted quietly, almost inaudible, that being a woman of Samaria, and he a Jew, that the request was not normal.

He then paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts carefully and said, “if you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water.”

I approached him, now unafraid, and sat down near to him and we began to converse, alone in a world where no others were.  He spoke giving greater details of living water, never thirsting again, and though I had difficulty understanding all that was being revealed, what followed shook me to my core.  He spoke, more gently, exposing intimate details of my life and I now cowered in the shame that had held me captive for so many years.  I immediately looked away and simply said, “sir I perceive that you a prophet.”  He spoke softer still, of the Father, true worshipers and of God as a spirit, but the sting of his earlier revelations of my life caused me to slowly retreat into my inner fortress of despair as I had done so often and away from our conversation; it was how I coped. 

I, with the bondage of my past, now holding me steadfast, gradually rose to my feet, longing to be alone in my home, did not know exactly how to end this chance meeting or what to say next?  I simply said, “I know that Messiah is coming, who is called Christ: when He comes, He will tell us all things.”

He reached out, now standing too, and cupped my chin, gently, lifting it upwards so that our eyes had no choice but to meet once again.  In a tone, one that I had never heard before, said, “I that speak unto thee am he.”  His eyes, looking so very deep now, were too much to bear, piercing my very soul, and tears began to flow unhindered; I found myself incapable of standing any longer dropping slowly to my knees.  Weeping at his feet, I felt his hand now on the top of my head, delicately stroking my hair.  All that held me captive, regret, shame, guilt, anger, loneliness and unforgiveness, lifted off of me, one by one and I felt a sense of clean; layers of immorality, filth, and sin melted away with each stroke of his tender hand. 

The faint sound of men speaking with one another startled me and with their volume gradually increasing it could only mean they were nearing the area of the well.  I rose quickly, though I did not want the encounter to end, not knowing exactly what to do next.  He must have sensed my dilemma and simply embraced me, wrapping His arms lightly around me.  I, on the other hand, could not hold him tight enough?!  The men were very near now and as I slipped away from our embrace, I looked into His eyes one last time; they were full of love.  I picked up my water pot, somehow now full, and ran towards my village with new found energy with water splashing everywhere.

As I neared the homes within the village something was different and I no longer wanted to avoid those, my fellow inhabitants, that I came upon.  I felt renewed and I felt a passion to speak of my time with Him at Jacob’s well.  I boldly began to recount, to an ever-increasing crowd, all that He had revealed to me with words that simply were not my own.  One by one they began to disperse anxious and excited to seek Him that I had spoken of. 

Back and in the confines of my home, alone once again but not feeling as such, I opened the windows that had been closed for so many years and the brilliance of the sun filled the room.  A small breeze cooled my body as I thoroughly washed my body with the water from the pot.  I felt new, I felt clean, and free from the shackles of life that held me bound an incapable of living.  I found myself singing, singing of His love, His compassion and praising Him, that found me at my darkest hour.

The small tap at the door startled me and I opened it with pleasure and without hesitation.  Weeping and falling to her knees, a woman begged for my forgiveness, for her lack of compassion and the pain she must have caused me by her actions.  I reached down, caressed her hair with the love of Him, lifted her up and simply embraced her.  She pulled away, wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled deeply.  Reaching in to her small satchel she slowly revealed a beautiful new dress and proceeded to hand it to me.  The dress, now in my hands, vibrant with color and so soft to the touch overwhelmed my senses.  We hugged one last time and simply cried in each other’s arms.  After her departure, I held the dress up to my body, swirled it around the room and danced with Him that had given me new life.    

Father, I have tarried long contemplating the Samaritan woman at the well.  There is so much not written; forgive me if I have embellished the story not to your liking.  The journey that day must have made you beyond tired, I know that you hungered for a certainty, your homelessness adding to the “totality” of your wearied state, but that did not deter you.  Words almost fail me as I consider the lengths that you will go, out of your way, to meet those that are in need of intimate conversation, those that are in need of an intimate touch of your hand, a wonderful grand intimate encounter.  You knew she would be there, you knew that she would be a voice for the love she received, freely giving to those that more than likely were unworthy of her offering that day; similar to us Lord.  Yet, when we encounter You, at the well, in our deepest darkest hours, depressed, angered, frustrated, longing, thirsting, for something more than of this world, we are changed and we too should not be able to contain all that you have done in our lives.  It is said of Moses after coming down from mount Sinai and his time with God that “the skin of his face shone” and of Stephen and that those of the council “saw his face as it had been the face of an angel.”  Father, do our faces shine?  Is their light, a brilliant light, illuminating the darkness of the world we live in, emanating from us and to a world encompassed with hurt, loneliness, and hopelessness?  Do we go out of our way, freely giving of our time and our energies, looking for those you would allow to cross our paths, willingly and excitedly speaking of You?  Father forgive me for asking so many questions.  The contemplations continue, not sure really if we are able to fully comprehend the entirety of how very much You love us.

Father, there are those that read this message today, in the quiet of their surroundings, finding themselves in need of You, in need of that intimacy you so desire and in need of your presence in their lives.  Dare I ask in humility, crossing the miles of separation, time irrelevant, to meet them right now?  Would you flood the rooms where they sit, encompass them with love, unconditional, and full to its offering?  Wash over them I pray, wave after wave, and heal wounds left unattended and break the shackles of hindrance afresh from their lives.  The words of Your Son seem appropriate.  “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor, He has 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.”  We love you Lord, and we “thank you” and close with this thought, uttered by King David, “What is man that you are mindful of him and the son of man that you visit him?  It is all too absolutely wonderful Father…Undone.

Daniel  

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.”