Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Unread…



Above is a quote from my last post, Mom's Treasure. That post got me to thinking about this blog you're reading. I got to thinking about how faithful readers aren't reading my writings by the thousands.

And for some reason, I was encouraged. Writing is an amazing thing. His Word, His written Word is the one tangible God left us. Yes, we can feel Him – at times. Yes we can hear Him – at times. But His written Word is near, even in our mouths. We can speak it, hear it, read it and see it.

Writing is an amazing thing. It continues to speak when we're not. It can speak in different times and places while we're sleeping – or fishing. My point is: writing is an amazing thing.

But of the many amazing writers who write amazing things – only a small percentage will make the show. So they write for the love of writing and long for the call, like a ball player yearns for the field.

Nobody wants to sit on the fence or ride the bench. Do you think it's possible that one be called to write – but never get the call?
Maybe there's a higher call. Take a trip with me. It's not far…just eternity.


Glory radiates from His being as He stands on the front porch of His Kingdom. With only a glance the seraphim know His command and chime the bells that ring pure and holy. He sits upon the golden rocking chair and pulls out a scroll.

We gather round eager to hear our King. We never tire of His awesome words of wisdom. Our hearts free from sin and fear. He rocks a bit without a sound as He reads the scroll He's found.

His smile lights the world and His laugh like thunder booms. No one fears –we're used to His joyous laugh by now. He loves to laugh. He tilts His chair back and slaps His knee. His eyes shine His smile glows.We've been here some thousands of years, but then again, maybe not, since time doesn't exist; but one thing's for sure – we never get bored. It seems each moment is something new. Just as we catch our breath it's taken again as we view yet another aspect of the glory and splendor of this wondrous heaven.

It may sound strange, but right now He reminds me of grandpa. He was always laughing with that twinkle in his eye. And it seemed he always had something new to show. Grandpa would talk about me to his friends and show off my picture and the fish we caught. He kept every card and letter I ever sent. He even read them to his war buddies – like they would care. Today, for some reason God reminded me of grandpa. Maybe it's the way he's looking at that scroll and smiling. He looks so happy and proud; like a parent when their child colors a picture to hang on the refrigerator. I've never seen Him quite like this before. How amazing. Such love from such a wonderful Father.

He's read to us before from the Holy Scriptures. It was the most amazing thing – The Word reading The Word. It came to life - literally. It all made perfect sense. So, now I think He's going to read to us again. I wonder what new awesomeness He'll share with us this time. He's looking at us now. He's actually looking over here. He's looking for someone. Oh, He's calling a name... my name. Oh Lord, my Lord, Holy are You My Lord. He wants me to come to Him. He's calling me.

Holy, Holy, Holy, how awesome are You Lord.And now He stands. He stands, He actually stands to greet me…He hugs me. Embraced by Love; and then we sit.

He opens the scroll; wearing that I'm- so- proud- of- you smile. I wonder if He's going to ask me to read. Wow, look at the sea of people. Millions of saints stand before Him. I have no fear. If on earth this would have made me tremble, but not here. No fear – no tear. Just Love. He's going to read.

He clears His throat – just to be funny. Smiles that Light-Of-The-World smile and begins to read. Only He's not really reading. I can tell. I'm so close I can see His eyes and He's not really looking at the words. He's looking at me out of the corner of His eye. He keeps speaking the words written on the scroll but He doesn't have to read them. He's got them memorized. And then He slowly looks up and into my eyes and into my soul. I stare at His lips, speaking those words with such depth of wisdom and love – and smiling.

And then I realize – those words are familiar...those words are mine. The words I penned pouring out my soul – the notes I pinned to keep my soul. Unread words I'd written; seed sown with no harvest… until now.


Simple words written for such a time as this; eternalized by being read by The Eternal.
He saw me as I scratched out words barely visible through tears in the dark, and now all I can say is…Thank You for letting me wait.






Malachi 3:16
"Then they that feared the LORD spake often one to another: and the LORD hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before him for them that feared the LORD, and that thought upon his name."

 

Ecclesiastes 11:1
"Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days."

 

Matt. 19:30
"But many that are first shall be last; and the last shall be first."
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Monday, November 22, 2010

Mom’s Treasure


I know she had to ask. Everyone does when they think of leaving.

But the thought of it kind of takes your breath and makes you want to sit if you're standing.

"Son, when I die, is there anything you want?"

Is there anything I want? Yeah, for you not to die, that's what I want.

But, I know that's not the answer she's looking for. And so I pause... Suddenly I know. The only thing worth anything – at least to me: her notes.

She wrote. Letters to God in notebooks and notes to herself stuck on bathroom walls, mirrors, the refrigerator, kitchen cabinets, doors…

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." That one's her favorite.
*
"Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you."
*
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
*
"Love never fails"

Plain pieces of paper cut in irregular shapes; simple and handwritten. But nothing plain, irregular or simple about them. They were powerful. Like jewels of gold and silver they lit the room, shining with an eternal glow.

Her little notes were written for her eyes only. To help keep her mind stayed on Thee.

But others saw. Now didn't they? They always do.

The neighbor lady who's forever needing a cup of this or tablespoon of that- she noticed the notes. And what about the bachelor down the hall? He happens to knock whenever supper's ready to hit the table. And for some reason he calls, when he's feeling unstable. He read the writing. He saw the glow.

The Word of Life written with feeble hands of clay. Hands that have known fear and failure – fold to pray.

I couldn't ask for a greater inheritance.

Thanks Mom, I love you.

Lord, like those notes I'm seen and read. Help me to shine.


Matthew 5:16

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Grateful Dead


 

Luke 17:11-17   
11 Now it happened as He went to Jerusalem that He passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. 12 Then as He entered a certain village, there met Him ten men who were lepers, who stood afar off. 13 And they lifted up their voices and said, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"
14 So when He saw them, He said to them, "Go, show yourselves to the priests." And so it was that as they went, they were cleansed.
15 And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, returned, and with a loud voice glorified God, 16 and fell down on his face at His feet, giving Him thanks. And he was a Samaritan.
17 So Jesus answered and said, "Were there not ten cleansed? But where are the nine?


 

We ten; all of us reading this, and all who will not read – all of mankind are among the ten lepers – maybe not skin-leprosy but sin-leprosy. We are covered with the rotting, decaying body of sin and death.

Those lepers were told to go and show. And on their way to obey – they were cleansed.

We too, afar off and long ago were given a trail to travel; a road filled with religious rules and regulations – the law of sin and death. The commandments of dos and don'ts revealed the journey was too long and too hard for a leper such as I.

As one of the lepers that day, I can tell you, the path to the priest was painful, too painful. The heat baked my bleeding flesh. The rocks cut infected feet. Breathless, I had to find my ragged voice and cry; "Unclean, unclean" to warn anyone near to clear the way for a wretch such as I. Step aside or risk being contaminated with the stench and filth I carry. "Unclean, unclean" I cry… as I cry.

At last, almost there; the steep hill to the city of the priest. Will they allow entrance to a dog like me? My throat is dry – as dry as the dusty road. But I must go on. I must obey. Keep walking. One step – one word, "Unclean." Another step – another word, "Unclean."

I must repeat those wretched words… "Unclean, unclean"…the law dictates I am less than man. I didn't ask for this. But here I am. And my words declare I am but scum, "Unclean, unclean." But my parched throat stalls. I start to speak, but the words falter and come out wrong… (cough) "…Clean… (gasp)Clean." Those who always look away – now look my way. I look down at dusty street and the bloody stubs I call feet.

I hear the words the others repeat – "Clean, clean." Mocking me, I think. Louder they laugh "CLEAN! CLEAN!" They won't stop! I cover my ears…

All went white.

That's when I realized. I had ears, not deteriorated flaps of flesh. And I had hands, with fingers – all my fingers. CLEAN! CLEAN! WE WERE CLEAN! I jumped on feet that were stubs moments ago and ran on legs that were legs – real legs, not hunks of flesh swinging from a bloody torso.

I ran and ran and ran feeling the fresh rush of air in lungs and throat where moments ago each breath was the pull of rusty chain through a rocky crag. I felt words crisp and clean exit smiling and laughing lips "CLEAN! CLEAN!" I ran like the wind. Like a school boy at play – until I collapsed... at His feet. To give thanks to The One Who Made Me Clean, The One who made me complete, The One who made me whole.

Do you know the story is about me? Really, it is… and you? On our way to obey He got in the way. On our way to be religious, to do the right thing, to see the priest, to go to church, to obey the rules, to be a good person, a good mom, a good dad on our way to Notville; do not murder, do not steel, do not covet, do not lie, do not, do not, not, not …He meets us. Only one returns.

He – The Healer of skin and sin intervenes. He knows the path to the priest is hard – too hard and far – too far. He knows that even if we make it – it won't do any good. Unless He gets in the way; and so – He becomes The Way. On the way, He makes a way. He helps us cross by using The Cross. He breathes fresh breath into infected lungs, restores flesh where decaying meat clung. He gives life in place of death.

Only one. One out of ten return to give thanks. They all were cleansed. He made a way for all. For you. For me. For all. Only one put on the attitude of gratitude and gave God thanks. It bothered Him, too. He even asked. "Where's the other nine?"

The trip for the lepers is the journey of life for us. We walk our own trail of trials. The leprosy of life slips in and spreads like cancer; the car won't start and the head-ache won't stop; relationships fall and bills rise; we cry as we cry "Unfair, unfair, I didn't ask for this life." We feel unclean, undone, like we're falling apart, like a leper. The heart grows numb from the pain that won't end… And along the way He walks in – because He has gone before.

He knows this road. He's climbed this hill. His flesh hung in ribbons between heaven and earth on an old rugged cross bearing the scars of my sin, and yours. He paid the price for our cleansing.

Whether we want to be or not, we're in the story, we have no choice. However, we can choose who we'll be: The one who realized the path-to-the-priest was back to The Priest – and returned to give thanks? Or one of the nine, who grabbed life without considering The
Source Of Life – without returning to offer thanks?

As for me and my house, we collapse at the feet of Jesus – The Sin Cleanser, who makes life complete. With a grateful heart rejoice knowing the High Priest has passed this way to cleanse a leper such as me and will soon return to meet us face to face.


 

Psalm 136:1
Oh, give thanks to the LORD, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever.


 

Philippians 4:6
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God;


 

Revelation 7:12
Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom, Thanksgiving and honor and power and might, Be to our God forever and ever. Amen.

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Monday, November 8, 2010

Late

She was humming as she walked across the room wrapping a towel around her damp hair.
 

"Good morning honey." She said softly to her sleeping husband. He had been up late studying and praying. He told her he had a lot of catching up to do with God.
 

Eyeing the clock by the bed she blurted out "Oh my, it's 8:30." She had been reading her bible and praying, too. Only she had gotten out of bed early…real early, while it was still dark – and time had just gotten away.
 
With a groan and a roll he was out of bed.
 

As he stood shaving, still a bit sleep-fuzzy, the only words he heard from his wife replayed in his head; "Oh my, it's 8:30" – Why couldn't she at least say good morning? Why did she just have to blurt it out like the house was on fire? How rude.

He closed his eyes and shook his head with a quick shake and wondered; where did that come from? He continued to shave… Look at the clock on your phone. He started to grab his phone but then the thought, No, don't…she just told you the time. Rudely.

 
He drew a deep breath, felt a bit anxious and thought he'd better hurry.
 

Getting ready for church was new for them. Well, new in a way. They used to go, years ago, but life got busy and church, got crowded out. But now they were back. And this time it was for good.

Five weeks ago they went to church at the request of a neighbor. They raised their hands and walked to the altar – the last time they were at an altar it was their wedding day. They asked Jesus to come into their hearts, and meant it. They really wanted to live for Him. So now, for the fifth Sunday in a row – they were getting ready for church.
 

She turned on the blow dryer and…He should have been up already. Now we're going to be late. Hurry. She sighed… I was in such a good mood, what happened.
 

He finished shaving and wiped his face. I never oversleep. Why didn't she wake me earlier? She knew I was up late praying and reading. Now we're going to be late – hurry.  

He stared at a frustrated man in the mirror. What are you looking at? Hurry.
 

They finished doing what folks do to get ready for church, but quicker since they were running late. And they were out the door.
 

"Well, we're late again." Not hiding her aggravation.
 

He sucked in a quick breath and tried to think of a comeback – but the only thought he had was; check the time on your phone, he started the truck.
 

The truck came to life and the digital clock on the dashboard revealed 9:07 a.m. He slowly exhaled and exited the driveway.
 

Why does she always do this? Who cares if we're a little late anyway? It's nobody's fault – we just didn't get going in time. But she blames me. She won't say it but she does. I know she does. Maybe we should just stay home.
 

"What time does church start anyway?"
 

"9:00 – like always."
 

Like always…grrr… she can be so…so…eyyye… "Well it's only a little after nine – we should get there around 9:20. They'll still be doing praise and worship. We won't miss much."
 

She was looking down at her phone thinking, actually, I don't even feel like going. We won't find a good place to sit; we'll disturb everyone…. She stared at her phone as if the answer was in her hand. She wondered if she should call someone, anyone, but who?
 

They drove in silence.
 

"What the…Where's..."
 

He never finished the sentence but she knew his thoughts.
 

"My – oh my, oh my."
 

She didn't have to say why she said it – he knew.
 

They eased into the parking lot and pulled into their favorite spot – no one had taken it.
 

They stared in disbelief as a lone tumble weed tumbled across the gravel. Drop-jawed they watched as dust devils spun in tornado like fashion.
 

Fang-jawed the devil watched as he spun his web in tornado like fashion. Accusation and fear gripped their hearts.
 

Finally, he whispered the word they were thinking – but neither had courage to speak… "Rapture."

She gasped as if the word spooked her. And actually, it did. For a moment time stood still. She realized she was holding her breath and exhaled a painful "Ohhhh nooo…please no…I thought we were ready."

"So did I." Suddenly he slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The horn honked and he didn't care. "I was – until you woke me up so rudely this morning – you got me all…out of whack. This is your fault."
 

"My fault! Rude? What! You have no idea what you're talking about? I was NOT rude. You should learn how to get up on time."
 

The accusations flew. The devil laughed. But he was cut short.
 

Tap-tap-tap interrupted their discussion. The Pastor stood with a smile on his face and a concerned look in his eyes.
 

He jumped out of the truck and almost, well no, he did yell at the preacher - "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" It was an accusation and a question all at once.
 

"Um, well - you know. I'm the Pastor. It's Sunday. What's wrong?"
 

"We're late. We're too late. We've missed it."
 

"No – it's not too late…"
 

"News flash preacher – nobody's here. Ever heard of something called the rapture? You know all the Christians get taken to heaven, in the twinkling of an eye. You should know this stuff."
 

He snapped his fingers and swept his arm in a large arc over the empty parking lot.
 

"Rapture?" The preacher looked at the empty lot and watched dust swirl into the air. "Oh… I see." He looked at the ground and then at the sky and then directly into the man's eyes. "It's not too late, you know."
 

"Yeah right, and why not?"
 

"Well, for a couple of reasons. But for starters…" Then he spoke words that sounded strangely familiar: "Check the time on your phone."
 

She snatched open the phone still clutched in her hand and checked the time. 8:20 a.m. Relief and confusion crossed her face.
 

With as much love and understanding as he could muster the Preacher spoke: "Ever heard of something called… Day Light Saving Time?"


Dear Lord thank You for being our Day Light Saving Time. You give us each day our daily bread. You bring us light. You are The Light. You are our saving Savior. You deliver us from the accuser. You are never late. You are all time at once; the beginning and the end. Amen.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


This thing Christendom calls "The Rapture" seems to pique the interest of everyone.


Some common questions that come up on the subject are:

  • What is the rapture and is the word even in the Bible?
  • What if I slip up a split second before it happens– am I toast?
  • I don't believe in that stuff – so why should I even care?
  • Can I know for sure if I'm ready?
  • When will it happen?
  • Who goes? Who stays? What about kids?
  • What if I miss it?

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Pennies

Have you ever found a penny? 
               -  Listen. God’s trying to tell you something.

One day I found a penny.

I stopped and picked it up.

The next day I found another.

This started a routine that puzzled me.

Without trying, without searching I started finding a penny a day.

At first, I thought it coincidence. After two weeks of finding a penny a day, I thought it weird.

I thought I must be sub-consciously looking for them. So, the next day I refused to look at the ground; walked around with nose in the air.

I was doing fine until mid-afternoon. I walked across the parking lot with nose held high. When I looked down to open the truck door…you guessed it. There on the ground, as pretty as a picture; a beautiful copper penny.

“Lord are you trying to show me something?”

Suddenly, one day, after seeing, stopping, bending down, picking up, holding and praying.

This came to me…

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted... (Psalm 34:18)

The Lord GOD, gathers the outcasts… (Isaiah 56:8)


He heals the brokenhearted... (Psalm 147:3)
Then…


“Those pennies have been cast aside.


Counted as nothing.


Many have been seen and stepped over.


Not counted as worthy enough to stoop down and pick up.


Many of my people are like those pennies.


In the same way I have given you eyes to see those pennies,


and the conviction to pick them up.


I have given you eyes to see My people and


the conviction to pick them up.”

…I stopped seeing pennies that day, and started seeing people.

~~~~~~~~~~~
Have you ever found a penny?
                  - Listen. God’s trying to tell you something
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Kayla, thank you my sweet daughter for prompting this repost.  I know at times you may feel small, like you don't amount to much. But, did you know that a penny is worth more by weight than it's face value? Likewise, what God has put inside you is more valuable than the world gives you credit for.  You are precious in His sight...and mine. Love Dad.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Reconciled


He looked to be about eight years old - red faced and running… And I didn't see him at first.

I was easing through the neighborhood admiring the autumn décor: colorful leaves in trees courtesy of The Creator and carved pumpkins, ghosts and goblins put on display by The Creators' creation.

Seems to me folks are always decorating for one reason or another.

Soon goblins will come down and the gobblers will go up. Skeletons and black cats will be changed to scarecrows and turkeys. And later, they'll be replaced with twinkling lights, green trees and jingling bells.

Houses and homes forever in a state of flux. The only thing that stays the same is; everything-changes.

Why? Why as soon as we move in to the house we loved enough to buy, are we making changes to it? New colors, different floors, knock out this wall, build that one. And as soon as we finish, we're thinking of something new. Why?

Maybe creativity is in our DNA – created by the Creator to be creative.

These thoughts were strolling through my mind as I eased around the bend. And then it happened.

Speaking of change, things were about to – quick. Real quick. In a flash I went from the serenity of a Norman Rockwell scene to slam-on- your breaks-you're-about-to-hit-a-kid.

I remember his little red gloved hand. Held up like a police officer stopping traffic. He was in hot pursuit, too. The look on his face meant business. I rolled down my window to ask…. But he was too busy to stop. As he ran by I could hear him panting and see tears in his eyes. Through freckles and tears and panting quivering lips I heard, "THAT'S MY DOG."

photo courtesy of photobucket.com

Across the road and through front yards they wove like dogs will do – the little boy hot on his heels. Nothing would deter him. Not even three tons of steel rolling down the road – he was focused on one thing.

The rules didn't matter. The one about looking both ways before crossing the street – completely irrelevant. Look out for me cause I'm coming through. Stay in the front yard where I can see you. Sorry mom I'm bailing boundaries, I've got to go.

He would go anywhere. He would stop at nothing; because THAT'S HIS DOG.

It still kind-of chokes me up when I remember his determined little tear streaked face and out of breath voice. But nothing like the remembrance of what happened next.

When he finally caught up to the puppy, cornered him in the neighbors front entry, he picked him up and started hugging him and kissing him. The puppy was wagging his tale like a windshield wiper on high and licking the tears off his face. The boy started walking home with the puppy held up to his face; kissing and hugging and licking and giggling the way kids do. And all smiles.

He did pause to look before stepping out into the street. He looked at me looking at him. We smiled at each other. His smile was bigger. He held up his prize and said through that smile that wouldn't quit and licks that wouldn't either, "THAT'S MY DOG."

He didn't scold him. He didn't beat him. He was so happy to be reconciled to him – all he could do was hold him. Love him.

My eyes needed a windshield wiper now. I thought; I'm so glad when I ran off weaving my own way, my Master, too, left His home in search of me. He crossed to the other side and ran into harms' way calling out my name. I'm so glad He caught me. And so very glad that now He holds me. He lifts me up and says… "THAT'S MY BOY."





~
Do you think there could be a bigger reason we're always in the state of change? Maybe it's because we're not home. Yet. One day we will be. We're being changed. We're in the process of reconciliation; being restored to our Master.



Perhaps there are those still running. Could it be our Creator is like that boy, in hot pursuit searching for that one lost? One day, on that perfect day, we will be reconciled and all smiles. On that day He will dry every tear. On that day there will be no more running, no more crying and no more fear.


Are you ready for that day – for Him to hold you up and say, "THAT'S MY CHILD."





18 Now all things are of God, who has reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation, 19 that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation.
20 Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were pleading through us: we implore you on Christ's behalf, be reconciled to God.



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