Astounding Warfare


Man goes to war with tools of death, that he may bring a “ceasing” to his enemy.  

God goes to war against the “deceased”, that he may bring them to life.  


Man’s enemy says to him, “We will not die today. It will be you who’s eyes will close!”


God says to his enemy (the dead), “Ask of me and I will open your eyes”.  


Curiously, how many say “NO!”, choosing instead to remain in death.  


What in odd battlefield the Holy One inhabits.  

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Who’s your daddy


In the year 1888, written at Town-end, Grasmere, William Wordsworth wrote a poem entitled  “My heart leaps up when I behold”.

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
              Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.

He speaks of the reverence of a child; the wonder and amazement that comes naturally.  It does not have to be remembered, provoked, or stimulated.  It is not contrived my media.  And such a child needs no help to be awestruck.

Of such is the kingdom of heaven.  For the Spirit of God in the Lord’s people speaks of wondrous things.

Many who call themselves Christians lack this sense of wonder.  And the following is the reason why.

The child is the father to the man.
He remembers the humiliation of ignorance among the people of expectation and intelligence.
The man senses the difficulty within him but cannot explain why.
He has forgotten forgiveness.

He once heard and understood.  He was glad to receive the gift of God.  But the things of this world; the concerns of the flesh, have caused him to put it away.

Neatly stored in the place of future, forgiveness is something to come.  It no longer finds use in the toil of the day.  The work of his hands replaces his play.

All the while he wonders.  “Why do I find no joy?”  Anxiety reaches deep into his heart, and replaces a child’s dearest toy.

With hopeless abandon the child sits alone.  And whispers a low lonesome song. 

“Am I now dead that you no longer look to see if I am sad?  I see beauty about me and want to reach out, but you stifle me, dear old dad.

But I will continue to whisper to you the things that once were true.  The things that took shape in making the man that has become poor old you.”

If you will not be a child, then you leave but one possibility.  You will be a man; accountable for all his sins.  All the while the child whispers, ignored by this world’s demands. 

Belief is freedom.  Unbelief is a heavy chain.  If you would be free, then remember the child you were.