The Fine Print

There is a sign at the top of this hill and I stand and read. Under the main script, there is additional print so small that even in all their abundance they merely appear to be a smudge. They are written in blood and are the deeds of men, past and present.

In what was more than a cursory glance, my eyes focus on what appears under my own name and the deeds listed there-on. In shame I read those words of my failings. Recalling each account and finding no excuse for a single one.

At the top of the sign, I focus upon the larger script. It is in all languages, and tongues and cries out “Behold the Lamb of God, This is Jesus The King of the Jews!” and with it, my deeds were nailed to the Cross. Colossians 2:13-15

I am thankful today for a lot of things. But this Love I have found in Jesus is beyond all measure.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Acts 27:18-22

When we are amongst the tempest all may seem lost. It is at such times that we must clear out of our lives the things that weigh us down so we can ride higher in the Living Waters that flow from Christ. Standing at the rudder, we must throw out the tackle of our own dependence and remain constant to steer our ships towards the salvation that will save our souls.

Sometimes however, the tempest is too much. We look at our situation, and God say's "I told you so but fear not for there will be no loss of life for you, even if the ship is destroyed."

If in mercy we are delivered then perhaps next time we will listen. Learn to seek shelter before the storm and from the cleft will we watch it pass.

However, forget not that we are sometimes placed in the storm so that others might hear the truth by reason and also be saved.

The Lord has been raised up just outside the city. His words still echo in my ear. I can hear him now as if he were still standing within my site and speaking. I hear the truth of the Word pouring out as freely as his blood did from Mt Calvary. Every drop is so precious. It is only his blood that can cleanse us. His sacrifice alone is the only sufficient substitute for our own. So much was taken for granted while he was with us.

At the foot of the altar, we fall to our knees. The veil has been torn exposing all that was considered Holy. Seeing nothing beyond the torn veil, it is proven that this house has been left totally desolate. There is no need to ever return here for sacrifices.

I build for my Lord now a Tent, a tabernacle for his presence. He dwells within this tent as in the days of the Exodus when he delivered his people from Egypt. His cloud by day marks my direction to travel midst the trouble in the world, but his fire by night lights up the darkness in which we live.

In this frame of mind I walk ever closer as he guides me to cross the Jordan. I am now carrying the Ark and within him is held the Covenant. Knowing that with the power of the Lord within, the waters that I was borne of parted as soon as my feet touched them. When I walk with the Lord, I am always on solid ground. My rock is He, and He is my shelter. When centered within me, He will spring forth a river of living water that flows out to all who would thirst.

The Lord has chosen this tent so that Word might travel beyond the wilderness and into a world that is in need of a promised land. At every turn I see the blind and the deaf trying to enter Eden while yet here on Earth. It seems that all my efforts to warn them are wasted. They can not hear me plead nor see me trying to wave them away. Instead they follow the direction of those that are speaking the language of the world who only tells the traveler what they want to hear. In horror I watch as they blindly approach the Cherubim and are then hacked to pieces by those flaming swords, dismembered eternally in fire. Oh that they could see.