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.

Open Doors

I sit in a room this morning amazed at how many different doors there are around me. No decoration. Very little comfort in the waiting. Only His words and patience to keep me company. To only sit here feels wrong, but I have no place to go. So silently, I wait.

Some time ago, I checked each door. In the beginning, they were all locked. When I knocked, there was no response. Every morning I still walk up to each door and try each one. Only recently did I discover that indeed there are now several doors that I could open myself but the blessed hope that I seek was not in there. There is no reason to enter unless He opens it for me.

My soul yearns for the day when after prayer I shall open my eyes and see that open door. To see the Master in the doorway waving me inside. Calling for me to follow. In my preparation, I hear him moving just outside. I know it won't be long. Trusting that His timing holds a purpose. He is surely making preparations of his own both outside this room, and within.

Echo'ing the Revelation, I close my eyes again and pray "Even so, Come, Lord Jesus."

Every Day

I come to my senses and again find myself standing in the open space of a judges court. Although no one is here with me, I still hear the crowds. The condemning words of a blinded people. Their hatred and fear driving their words, spurning each other on. No mercy is given, and the judgement comes. As every morning, I now hear him calling my name. I won't refuse. I will go. I always do.

As you can guess, I've been here before. I face this each morning and each day it is more powerful. The tears roll down my face and I drop my head and stare down at my feet, already knowing what to expect. There it is, the trail I have followed, the path I will take. Today it is more worn than yesterday, less worn however than you would expect it to be. It seems that fewer people are walking this path lately but the path is always clear.

Almost weary this morning, I head up the path. On the way out of the court, I take up my burden and follow the crimson path out of the city. My burden is light this morning but walking the path is still long. It takes a concious effort for us to do this daily. Sore feet begin to crack open again, adding my blood to the path. It's OK though, it's not my blood nor my pain that matters. I must answer the call.

I reach the foot of the hill and instinctively look up at the tree. The majesty washes over me, catching me off gaurd again today. From the hill, blood flows freely down. Nothing can impede it. Nothing can redirect it. It is a redemptive force unto it's self and the call resounds even louder now. Heeding the call, I have to reach the top, so I step into the flow. As soon as I enter the flow, the blood washes over me and I know that there is no way I can simply walk up against the current. I fall to my knees and crawl the rest of the way, the blood washing over me as I go.

Still on my knees, I reach the top and marvel again that the tree has became a throne. Looking up on the throne sits my God and Saviour. Reaching out to me with his hands, he says "Rise my good and faithful servant." and I wonder if today will be the day. As I stand, I am suddenly back in my bedroom knowing that this ins't yet the day. The early morning light welcoming me through the window. Even though today wasn't the day I yearn for, some day I know that after I stand he will ask me to sit with him. For now however, I thank him for everything he gives us and begin a new day.

Future"tense"?

Time is a consumable possession invented by men with limited amounts of it left. Constraints to it are limited by our knowledge and understanding of it. A lifetime, is our invented measure for the space we occupy. We can no more imagine what an eternity is than we can imagine what it means to "be" God.

From limited amounts of scripture, Men build a picture of the place where we will spend an eterninty. Then we take those scriptures and conform Heaven to our world. Trying to limit it to our knowledge of past and present. Even the very senses we have, (sight, sound, smell, touch etc..) may be mere reflections of a totally unknown set of senses we may yet have to come.

Be wary of expecting to use Heaven to complete anything we started here on this Earth. Our only thing left for completion when we leave will be our perfection in Christ and that will be done for us. Do not try to limit the mind of God over such matters. Those expecting to sit on clouds while playing harps have yet to fathom even a hint at what God has in store. Do you not have the word of God to convince you of what great things will surely come? Are you so wrapped up in this present world that even Heaven must conform to it? Would you really limit such blessing to what you know of life here? Is the flesh so desirable that you really want to continue in it?

What must we seek in order to be perfected in Christ? Then how much more should we anticipate our pleasure when it is found for an eternity? Ahh, the Blessed Hope is not Elusive. Searching eagerly and consitently we will find it. Knocking, seeking and asking is our instruction. Eternity with God is our expectation. Don't limit what will come, and don't require more than being with God.

Lifesong

I stepped outside onto the porch, and sat down on the steps which lead out into my backyard. Although my hearing is limited, I instantly key'ed in on the sound of several birds singing in the surrounding trees. Each different type of bird having only one or two songs that it sings, we rarely realize that their songs are voiced perfection. Unlike the songs we sing, theirs are truly given from God. Each Melody pleasing for their mates and to their creator. I am not sure exactly what they are singing, but it must be good if it is the only song that they need. I too would sing it if I knew all the words.

With all we create, our songs and voices should ring louder and more true. Especially if they come from an abundance of the Heart.

Psalm 71:8 Let my mouth be filled with thy praise and with thy honour all the day.