The Beginning of the Last Days

Keep them all guessing. Feed the imagination with lies. See how they call it entertainment. Fantasy supersedes reality.

Keep them busy with “nothing“, whilst they ignore the truth of God.

Let them believe in aliens and watch men challenge restraints while they throw away the only truth there is.

Let them ignore the only truth there is. For they have chosen the way of death.

Let them believe in good works. Let them believe that man has the ultimate command upon himself, “save the world“. With that they pay no attention to the grace of God.

Is there a price to pay? It’s already being extracted. And there is no gain left for them to receive.

The Definition of Sad

Black, gray, white.

Monotone, color, light.

This world cannot write any story from heaven. It can only speculate, suspicion, imagine, the things of God in Christ.

You want to know what’s sad is?

All the stories of this world will gather together before the throne of God. They will see the Christ of God and attribute to him all their lies. Never having grasped the truth of God, they stand face-to-face with eternal purity.

They never knew the color of truth. To them it was nothing more than shades of black; opinions revered as if they were written from eternity. All of a sudden their lies are eternally exposed. All of a sudden, the foundation of their very souls shatters irreparably.

Having loved their own minds, they despised Truth. They have carried to the valley of decision all their murderous greedy actions. Dressed in wreaking rags, they have become utterly pathetic. Expectations of joy explode into terror. They have not even begun to Become.

There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth!

The Legend Waits

You’ve seen it in the movies, how someone is running away from a crumbling building.  For the sake of theatrics, they always manage to miss the last piece by inches.
Isn’t life like that?  What we build always seems to fall apart.  But by some fortunate circumstances, we are always inches ahead of the last falling peace.  The noise, the dust, the sparks that fly,  they are always behind us, or just brushing our shoulders.
But just as curiously, there is collateral damage.  Many are caught in the wake of catastrophe from our mistakes and mishaps.  And we, ourselves, are victims from the work of countless hordes of fools.  Death is the place where we emerge from the smoke and dust.
I wrote a poem called “Sorrow”.  The poem is the offspring of this realization.  With all sincerity, I desire that death should come.  Let it come and put an end to this catastrophic event called “My life”.  
I don’t desire death because I’m lazy.  I desire death because of Jesus.  (The very same reason I’m still living.)  I desire death that there may finally be peace in the place where all I could bring was horror.  I desire death that his work may find completion.
How precious then are these words he has led, inspired or incited me to write.  Though they cause upheaval, it is for the better of every soul.  And as I have written before, as long as I live here these words remain concealed.
They are concealed because of the pride of Man.  As long as he can attribute an errant human to these words, he will not find them nor seek them out.  But take away the man and the legacy sprouts wings.  “He was ten feet tall.  He was the epitome of muscle and brain.  His heart was forever in the right place.  He was a saint among us!”
How wrong they will be.  But how useful is their error.  May God be glorified in Jesus His, Holy and Righteous Son for the sake of what He has done in this fool.

Conquer TIME

People like short and poignant observations.  They make it easy for us to agree and just move on.  They are like delicate carvings on the lid of a golden box.  Ya gotta open it up to see what’s inside.  Don’t be afraid of many words.  Isn’t that what’s in the box?

Reach forward.  Open this box.

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The dashes represent our linear thoughts.  The solid line represents the unforgiving nature of time.

We are pathetic creatures who must reach, every moment, to our memory to add the next thought.  There is no such thing as multitasking.  We are only adding our thoughts together quicker.  Our ability to think more than one thought at a time is nothing more than an illusion.

And we are all aware that time never stops to wait for us.

If you make a mistake, time does not stop and wait for you to catch up.  If you try to think ahead, preparing an ease for your burden, time doesn’t nod with appreciation.  To us, time is a Relentless Beast.

To add to our trouble, our frantic “work” will run out.   All the while time itself will move on.  Struggling from birth to death, our lives end up a useless carcass.  Isn’t this the plight of life in this place?

Isn’t this the reason for Man’s expectations?  Isn’t this the reason for his frustration?  Isn’t this the reason for every act of violence, whether great or small?  In our frustration we lash out with whatever tools are at our disposal.   But time doesn’t even notice.

In all this however, time is not the enemy.  It is only the physical standard by which we measure our weakness.  It is only the physical standard by which we capture some perception of strength.  We are the ones who are weak, my friends.  Time is endlessly and ceaselessly strong.

You need help from beyond the boundaries of time.  You need help from the One who made time.  When do you need His help? 

All the time!

When should you call out to Him? 

All the time!

The Glorious One’s name is Jesus.  Of all the things we study, how important then does the study of God’s Holy Son become to us? 

It is inevitable that we will waste time.  But the measure of that waste belongs to us.  The Bible waits to be read.  God is patiently waiting for your prayers.  His generosity is waiting to gift you with immeasurably great things. 

Stand still.  Let time tick away.  Seek His face with great diligence.  Conquer time.

The Sprout of Salvation

It is not frustrating.  And it is not in vain.

It is frustrating when we perceive the things of God from our own mind and heart.  For then, our work for the Living God seems fruitless.

We speak to our brother about Christ, but he casts us away as if we are insane.  He goes about his business of death with a smile on his face, as if he has just vanquished a foolish enemy.  Calling us names in his mind, heart, and words, he considers us vile and useless.

He happily goes back to his useless gods:  “To these I am familiar.  I understand when they speak about my dreams and ambitions.  They are set concretely by the evidence of History.  This nation or that has relied heavily on the traditions I love so much.  The after life is mysterious.  But these gods give me consolation in my sorrow.  They speak well of my potential.”

With the sleight-of-hand that belongs to death, he throws away our testimony for Christ.  Our words are full of fault in his eyes.  For they give no praise or quarter to man.  The testimony of Christ is foolishness to such people.

I consider this with sober mind.  I want his salvation.  I want to hear the praise of Christ on his lips.  I want to see a changed heart that is willing to learn and love.

But I am caught up in frustration.  The very thing I do not have a right to own.  For salvation does not belong to me.  It is not within my grasp to grant or to take away.  I cannot open the eyes of his heart.  I cannot open his ears that he should hear.  And I cannot manipulate his heart that he should learn to love and to be humble.

Salvation belongs to our God and to the Lamb.  For he dispenses his wisdom from heaven.  What he gives, when he gives, and how he gives, is dictated by eternity.  And he does not speak the Gospel to us in words that can be spoken or perceived by Man. 

God speaks his Gospel to us in the faithfulness that surrounds us.  He speaks in a language that never ceases.  He speaks vast volumes of books in a short and poignant sentence. 

All the while Man looks for the key.  But his hands are not big enough to handle the object of release which God offers from heaven.

What is the summation of this?  I confess I do not know. 

I have spoken to my brother.  I have acted toward him in a godly fashion, full of love and desire to understand.  I have prayed for him consistently.  And I strive, with all I have, to be patient.  Still the sun has not risen in his heart.  And now he has ordered me to stop speaking to him about such things.  In fact, he has vowed to stop speaking to me altogether. The door to him is now slammed shut.

Here I sit, just outside his door, wondering and perplexed.

Let the wisdom of God be the wisdom of God.  What more can I say?  It is not mine to wield the mystery of salvation.  It is simply mine to cast the seeds about, letting the wind of God direct their fall.

I cannot give the Living God counsel.  It is mine simply to be faithful.  In war we can watch as others are killed.  And there is nothing we can do to stop it.  In life, some will live and some will die.  Who are we to say no to the One who has made all things perfectly well?

But I wonder.  What are we learning through all this?  What are we gaining through the loss that is so prevalent about us?  Who are we, as we stand in the midst of a Slaughter?  Hip deep in spiritual blood, what is the value is our life in Christ to those who die?

The answer lies in a language I have never heard.  This puzzle piece fits perfectly in the vast array of God’s glorious eternity.  God is not anxious about such a question.  For he has had the answer long before the world was ever made.

Does this give me peace?  The peace this gives me lives in the place I cannot translate.  For still I am anxious to see Christ appear in my brother.  And doesn’t every Christian feel the same?

Holy Father, we leave these things in your hand for that is where your wisdom has dictated it shall be.  Salvation is yours.  Still we pray in earnest that your love should appear. 

“By Your Grace”, you have taught me.  And I am convinced there is no other answer.  Your strength is Christ Jesus.  Still we beg you to move, yet according to your wisdom.

The Now.

A man doesn’t look at his watch to see what time it was.  His watch can only tell him what time it is.  It doesn’t tell him what time it’s going to be.  It tells him what time it is.  You can’t lay hold of the past.  And you can’t lay hold of the future.

Regret reminds him of what time it was.  Perhaps we regret that we cannot have the good times we had.  Or we may regret that we have destroyed joy, for ourselves or others.

What is regret but a knowledge of what is right.  A knowledge of appropriate restraint.  Truth restrains us in “the now”.  You’re not going back my friend.  And as you reach the future you bring the old man with you.  What you did back then, you are doing now. You need a change of heart, not a change of time.

We may look at the past desiring some pleasant time.  Or we may look at the past, regretting abject folly.  But we can only do this looking from “the now”.  The man who lives in Nostalgia does not know what time it is.  Regrettably, this is to his constant loss.

Nostalgia will always be beyond our grasp.  But regret can happily thrive in our house.  All the while, truth says something imperative.  “I am here.  Come live with me.  I am here to offer you life.”

It is impossible to fix a misdeed.  The best we can possibly do is offer reparation.  And the cost of repair is vastly more than a man’s resources will ever afford.  You can’t undo anything, whether good or bad!

Man thinks that by paying for his horrible mistakes, he becomes a righteous man.  Perhaps he thinks if he regrets his past enough, there is some reparation made.  As if suffering  produces anything of value.  But no action on our part undoes the death we have born.

Christ Jesus is in the now.  No matter what clock you look at, there is the Lord holding out his hand to help stop the engine of regret.  Will you reach out and take his help?

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One thing I will say about regret, it is a useful tool.  It teaches humility.  And in an odd way, it gives validity to the warnings we offer to those who are as blind as we. 

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The man who climbs out of an open cesspool is happy to warn those who are walking toward disrepair.  Blinded by the darkness of their mind, they stagger toward loss.  And isn’t such a man rather frantic as he tries to help his brother?

Their response doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t matter if they hate him.  It doesn’t matter if they give him some superficial glory.  He knows from experience they are about to encounter regret.  He busies himself to remind his brother of the now.

Christ is in the now.   And he alone is The Living pure truth.  Listen to him.  His wisdom and strength are ever-present.

As the blind are walking toward the pit.  As they are falling into it.  As the shock of their disrepair dawns on their dull minds.  As they thrash about to release themselves from their present aberration.  As their hands lay hold of solid ground.  As they pull themselves out, covered with stench.  And as they sit perplexed on the edge of the pit, wondering what to do next, or how they could possibly have been so stupid.

Christ is in the now.

Christ is in the now.

He is not just a historical figure.  He is the now.

If you have freed yourself from a certain pit, I promise you, without Christ there’s another one waiting just in front of you.

Answer to yourself, what time is it?

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The usefulness of this post depends entirely on the reaction of those who read it.