Being a Christian


This morning I see this:Darkness on the earth is witness to a hushed murmur of violence. The night is a cloak for the thieves.  


They steal what they will; property, life and peace.  


But this I perceived:

The world spins around causing the Sun to rise. And the noise of wickedness is no longer a murmur.  


Now it is a deafening roar of greedy desire and wicked intent.  


Their eyes open shooting fiery knives of blame. Dreams and nightmares give way to the reality of judgmental hearts.  


The peace of the wee hours of the morning.  


The time of prayer, time of reflection. The time to receive life from He who is Life. Clarity comes from Him. And in the clarity I can perceive as if indeed from some vast distance. The place where the splatter of blood cannot reach.  


The night will come again. The thieves will sleep, the thieves will tiptoe about. But He who lives forever is Peace.  


By the command of the Living God, His name is Jesus! Quiet your soul and trust Him. Listen intently for what cannot be heard. Search for what IS. His desire is for you. Doesn’t the blood beneath the cross prove His intent?


He is not a thief, unlike we who pray. He comes to grant life, wisdom, forgiveness, peace, joy, faithfulness, and doesn’t the list become endless? Those who learn to receive become like He. The spinning of the earth becomes far less fearsome.  


This, is to be a Christian.  

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With Perplexity


“Are those gunshots in the streets?  Was that Ally’s 5 year old boy who was shot in the head tonight?”

Pay no mind to the violence.  Close your ears, close your eyes, close your mind, close your heart.  Go to your place of peace.

“Is that a nameless ignorant girl we see on the corner with a heroin needle in her hand?  Why that’s Bob’s daughter!  What a shame he lost control of his loved ones.”

Pay no mind to the violence.  Close your ears, close your eyes, close your mind, close your heart.  Go to your place of peace.

“What a pleasant place we have created.  What a beautiful place Society has made.  See how evil runs rampant at night, the place where we sleep in peace.  Who needs talk about God in our public squares?  We simply hire a janitor to clean up the blood.”

Pay no mind to the violence.  Close your ears, close your eyes, close your mind, close your heart.  Go to your place of peace.

“Who needs faith in Jesus when we have locks on our doors?  Who needs the power of God’s words among us, when all we need to do is move to the suburbs?  Who needs the miraculous intervention of the Holy One?  We have our laws and ways.  Let the wicked kill each other, we will sleep in peace.”

Come my brothers and sisters.  Count God as dead and useless.  Ignore the coming judgment.  Surely the wicked will find a place to live.  The loss of the Gospel among us in public is no loss at all.  It has proven, in fact, to be our blessing.  Even take notice that the righteous observe a restraining religion.  Who needs the gospel of Christ?”

As you say so it shall be.  As you do, it belongs  entirely to your home.  As you have failed to believe, so you will perceive.  You have chosen to build a paradise through the engine of fear.  You spurn the one who gives you a paradise by the engine of Eternal strength.

So be it.  Let all the nations turn with perplexity to the violence and blood in their streets.  See how they relegate obscurity to the Holy Words of Blazing Eternity.

So be it. 

May your will be done Sovereign Father.  Prepare the place of contest.   Your Holy Son stands ready to deliver your will.  Your Righteous One, prepared to move at a moment’s notice. 

Let them have their way until they are sure you are no more.  Then He will appear to their shock, amazement, and horror. 

The Glory of your Holy ways is from forever to forever.  Rebellion cannot see you.  Let them puzzle their fate.  They choose their own way over yours.  Indeed, let them puzzle their fate.

Amen!

“Places Everyone!”


image

Man is placed in a place remote.  For if his place were among the things of God, Man would try to dethrone Him.

This place of testing, this place of proving, this place of violence or love. 

This place of choices, this place of life or death, this place of time and decay. 

This place of anarchy, this place of treason, this place of hatred or faith.

They refuse to listen.  They despise the one who speaks.  And at every possible convenience, they turn away from knowledge. 

This place of filthy, this place of ludicrous, this place of blood and flesh.

This place of confusion, this place of pride, this place of accomplishment and humiliation.

Lest every man be utterly destroyed, God has set a place for rebellion.

This place of wondering, this hopelessness, place of vile distrust, this place of alienation and rare embrace.

Two doors exit this place.  One is wide to accommodate the masses.  The other is so narrow you cannot point it out.

One is proportioned for the violent fits which company the chaos of rebellion.  The other is only large enough for the soul.

We must all leave this place.  But we do not all arrive in the same Place. 

Every man who owns rebellion alone, will certainly find himself alone. 

But every man who has been stripped of rebellion, to a sort, that which remains cannot die.  Lessened, such men will find good company.

In all things, the endlessly spacious Place of God is utterly unlike ours.

Moment by moment, every man chooses his destiny.  But let us not think that the destiny of man is varied in context.  No!  There is either eternal inclusion, or eternal desperation.

Debate all these things, Oh wandering souls of men.  Or kneel before the Living God in faith.  Plead with him for understanding. 

All that belongs to Man is death.  All that belongs to God is Life in Christ Jesus His holy and Righteous Son.

By His Grace

Paleness


Christian-Cross-Coloring-PagesThe mother of a little girl sat her child at the kitchen table.  Mom placed a drawing of a cross on a hill with a shash before the child to color.  Then mommy went about preparing dinner.

The child knew the color of wood.  She knew the color of grass.  She knew to shade the rocks with gray, and the sky with blue.  But when it came to the shash, the little one was perplexed.

“What is the color of the cloth?”  The tiny one asked.  Mother responded with the wisdom from God.  “Let God tell you what color to use honey.”

Tiny fingers reached for the box.  With the pure faith of a child she drew out the proper one.  And with all the care she had she shaded the cloth.

“It’s done.”  The precious one said.  But when mom came over to see, understanding reached deep into her soul.  God spoke to Mommy with clarity.  The color the child had chosen was the palest pink in the box.

As we are, so we teach.  Does God see?  Yes he does.

Do we worship in the true Gospel?  Or is our version so watered down that the very blood of Christ is but a pale pink?

“Danger Will Robinson!”


I do not trust the rattlesnake.
He is not friend to me.
Just for spite my life he’ll take.
So I prefer to let him be.

My house is mine and his is his.
With death we cross the threshold.
We both shall keep what power is.
With swiftess strike and strength untold.

In his house my blood is his.
What will be the remedy?
To stay my feet from his filthy floor;
Bar and lock my purified door.

But what is this, I see brothers do?
They do not take note with fear.
But go to the place where death awaits;
Not caring what they held dear.

The Fix


William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905) - The F...

William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905) – The Flagellation of Our Lord Jesus Christ (1880) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Curb the animal within your tainted heart.  Oh, I see that can’t be done.  Sorry to have bothered you.”

_________________________
I wake to find myself amazed.

The plight of man surges up like a wild rogue wave.

against a determined crew.

Mindlessly, endlessly, remorselessly, we search

for what is secure in our own little berth.

Attacking, defending, accusing, for what?

_________________________

Hideous folly attends our earth bound thoughts. And in our frustration we reach for the most firm item in our rotting little minds.  Wielding it like a mob of mad men, we thrash at one another.

Some one of us has a lucid moment and yells “STOP!”  All the crazed people cease in mid-swing.  Spit, blood and dust flutter to the ground.  A wicked silence ensues.  And they all listen to words spoken, too late and untimely.

“This is religion we’re swingin around!

Just look at the blood that covers the ground!

Is this truly the best we can do;

to kill one another with He who is true?”

The ceasing remains for a couple more breaths.

Then back comes the hitting, the gouging and stabbing of chest.

________________________

Hopelessly man is locked in minds of singular thought.  We make our way through a morass of unknown futures.  And we, too reliably, resort to violence of every form to do what we call survive.  Worse than that, we justify ourselves by calling down “TRUTH FROM HEAVEN”.

There are but two repairs to this seemingly endless dance of stupidity.  Each repair is useful only to the individual.  One is sure yet not recommended by any.  The other is sure yet few give it full application.

The least profitable repair is death.  If you wait patiently it will come to you on its own.  But likely as not some one will be willing to go fetch it for you.

Death brings silence and a sort of peace.  But it fails to deliver release from the central problem of “a valueless life”.  And once applied it cannot be undone.  (Sticky lil bugger, ain’t it.)

The best is to die to self.  We will find this in its full when we surrender to the Lord Jesus.  We will continue in this place of folly, but we will come to know how to stop bashing others.  Only in Him can this madness cease.  Yet His repair is not designed to cover the masses.  One by one we lay down our desires.  And the culmination of His work appears in an entirely different place.  There, a great throng of mentally vibrant folk will live out eternity void of the familiar bashing.

I wrote as the one who called attention to the childish nature of our filthy mob.  I do not think it will have the effect of stopping more than two, let alone the world.  Still, I have written what my mind saw.  We will see what comes.

By His Grace.