Storm


I sat in a darkened corner of the bar.  All alone and stupefied by the things I’ve seen.  Nursing my fourth drink, my mind was nearing numbness.   Ah, that familiar and welcome place.

My eyes were obliviously staring toward the front door.  The door opened and the shadow of a ragged man filled its frame.  “Ah, something to watch”, I thought to myself.

He walked straight to my table, and just stood there.  It takes a little longer for a fuzzy brain to process information.  Eventually I stop staring.  The blurry figure took focus.  Since he appeared to be in no hurry, and nowhere to go, I let a moment pass before I offered him a chair.  With lazy movements he sat down.  So the tone was set, an easy-going lazy, easy conversation.

He put his arms on the table, not taking his eyes from mine.  With an Indescribably steady voice he said, “What are you doing here”.  I told him I was drinking to numb the pain of life.

“Do you know why it hurts?”  Kind of a curious question.  It made me reach a little deeper than the surface.  I told him no.  “I really don’t have the slightest clue.”  But he didn’t offer anything more.  No answers, no reflections, no Nothin.  So we sat there in silence for a few minutes.

I was the one to break the silence.  “It’s like I live in a hurricane.  Everything I do, everything I am, everything I say, gets blown away and tore to pieces.  And I can’t seem to find shelter.  So I come in here to numb the pain of being tossed against the wall.”

He looked down thoughtfully.  It didn’t look like he had anything to say.  It seemed he was just waiting for my mind to listen to his words.  Like getting used to silence just before the Big Bang.  He started speaking before his eyes began to rise.

“Life is a storm from birth to death.  Most people prefer the depths of a cave.  But there are some who dare to wander about.  These are better fed.  These are far stronger and more able.  Frankly, these are more useful.”

He had set the tone so, again, I followed what he did.  I lowered my head and watched the top of the table stay still.  I thought about what he said.  I thought about how odd it was that he opened the door and came to my table to say these things.  I thought about the storm of my life.  Then I thought about my weakness; how he came to me in my cave.

“If this is the storm that comes into my cave to batter me against the wall, what is it like outside?”  I was sincerely curious about these strong people.

He didn’t pause this time.  “Outside is death.  What is it like inside?”  It seems like my answer came from somebody I didn’t know.  But I was sure it was my own lips that said this, “It’s useless, it’s mundane, it’s tedious, it’s insane.  In short and in truth, it’s a slow painful death.  But somehow it seems equitable, to be distant from the rest.”  (A poem?  Really!)

Now the conversation took a bit of a faster pace.  Without the slightest hesitation he shot back, “Do you want to work?”  I really don’t know how, but I understood what he meant.  My stomach convulsed and made me say, “Yes”.  (Alright, I thought, we’re having a conversation, and I’m really weirdly involved.)  “Then go outside and die with me.”

I know my eyes got wide.  I could feel it in my soul.  Could this man be the answer?  There wasn’t a shred of apology in his voice.

“No one has ever stayed with me.  How do I know you won’t take me outside and abandoned me in a worse place than this?”  His reply shut my mouth.  “Because I said so, and I cannot lie.”

Why should I believe him?  But look how strong my want-to is.  I looked down and thought again.  What’s the difference?  Die in here or die out there, what’s the difference?  Then I knew what to say.  Then I knew what to do.  I didn’t say anything.  I simply got up and put my coat on.  Within a few moments we were silhouetted against those in the cave.  We left.

I’m writing this, aren’t I.  Yes I’m still alive.  I have weathered the most magnificent storm my mind could possibly imagine.  He has never left me.  He has guided every step I took.  He has healed my wounds.  He has taught me how to fight.  He has encouraged me to take risks that men in their caves don’t even know exist.  And there ain’t no way I’m going back!

By the way.  His name is Jesus.

The Unpopular Desire


The antonym of adultery and greed is faithfulness.

I don’t want their bodies.  I don’t want their possessions.  I don’t want their accolades.  I don’t want their love.  I want their souls to love God eternally.

To Desolve an Impasse


I am so consumed with the things of God and eternal life for all men that I cannot compete in the expectations of the world.  Likewise, however, the world is consumed with its own expectations so that it cannot compete in the things of God.  Thus an impasse.

Because of the lovely blessings of God I cannot go to the world’s ways.  And because of their perverted definition of the word love, the world cannot come to God’s ways.  God’s love constrains me.  Man’s pride constrains them.

One of the rules of man’s pride is civility.  Because of this rule, they retain me in the social position of my birth.  But they have no regard for my open love for The God who is saving me.  I cannot hold this against anyone, for wasn’t I just like them.  But how shall this impasse the broken?

It needs first to be said that the pride of man will find an end in the grave, while the love of God goes on forever.  But this cannot be an acceptable break in the impasse, while God and myself (Because of his love for me) desires so many to be with us in Paradise.

Jesus told us that many are called but few are chosen.  “But no my Lord, they will surely die.  Truly, can nothing more be done to save their souls from your promised destruction?”  Yet does he not desire willing hearts to love him?  Thus the impasse continues.

Speak, lead, display, love, and groom.  Who knows, perhaps they will see and live.  How many of the Israelites that were released from bondage in Egypt entered into the Promised Land?   Though they saw magnificent sights, heard wondrous thundering sounds, ate of Mana, and enjoyed such marvelous blessings, still they all died apart from the promise.  The impasse holds little hope of rending here.

Yet what other hope is there?  The Living God cannot allow rebellion and pride into eternity.  And no member of The Eternity desires that God should forsake purity.  No, rebelion belongs destroyed.  And pride must be crushed, eternally reduced to nothing.

I surmise that the impasse belongs to Man.  It is man who demands to have his own way honored by the Living God.  Yet it is God who sent his only Son to be murdered for the sake of Man’s salvation.  Yes, the impasse belongs to man.

I love my brother’s of Flesh.  I do not want to see them destroyed.  But the choice is not mine, is it.

Since God in me is contemptible by those who know me, it is given to me to write.  Doesn’t familiarity breed contempt?  “We know where this man is from.  We know what a fool he has been.  How can he now think he knows God better than we?  How does he dare presume to teach us!”  And so pride loves contempt in the presence of familiarity.  (and by their contempt they prove they do not know God)

There is so much to say.  But I confess my writing is somewhat curtailed for the lack of apparent audience, why speak if no one listens.  I imagine that I could well have written twice this blog’s volume of words, if only I had perceived that some benefited.   But don’t statistics defy imagination?  Almost seven years of writing have produced a virtual flat-line statistical range.  Perhaps you can see why I have wondered about the productivity of his words in me.

Please don’t misunderstand me, I am not complaining for a lack of audience.  I simply see a lack of inspiration to increase the pace of this work.  Yet isn’t that lack within me.  And isn’t it then my duty to seek out inspiration from my God?

By his grace I will find the strength to write.  For haven’t I determined here that there is no other means to break the impasse?

There is an article I was allowed to write two or three years ago called “The Craftsman”.  No, I haven’t forgotten it’s premise.  It is impossible to forget something that is with you everyday.

Justice


http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2016/06/03/school-sends-sheriff-to-order-child-to-stop-sharing-bible-verses.html

1.  He made this place for them to live.

2.  He came here and died by our hands to save us.

3.  They mistake his patient Mercy for a license to do as they please.

4.  Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

5.  They break their own laws in regard to freedom of speech.

6.  America is looking more and more like communism.

7.  Every man will answer for the way he has rejected the living God’s Holy Son.

Proof By Adversity?


“Frivolous” Humanities Helped Prisoners Survive in Communist Romania

(I tried to comment on the writer’s article in his page.  But his page would not accept a WordPress login.  So I make this entry in my blog in the hopes that it will reach the writer.  Who knows, perhaps it will also reach a soul somewhere else.)

In that writers article he describes how the government legislates its own morality.  The writer says that he found the government’s methods and its operating premise to be at fault, simply by humanity’s insistent efforts to circumvent unjust laws.

The writer says this: “If the study of literature or history were really that pointless, a government trying to control the minds of its subjects would not go to the trouble of putting humanities students and professors in jail.”

Isn’t the same thing true of Jesus?  Part of the proof of his royalty is the venomous activity of his enemies.  And if all of Jesus is true, proved by the activity of his enemies alone, wouldn’t it be wise to consider his words.  If he is truly life are we wise to ignore him?

Apology for Oversight


There may be one or two people in this world who’s pride of life I have not yet insulted.  Please comment here and I’ll do my best to accommodate your pride.