Category Archives: parable

Two Boxes

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Another day, driven from the possibility of opportunity.  Ripped from our hands by the weakness of humanity.  The seconds, appearing on the day, have exacted their proper respect from unwilling victims.

What was accomplished remains as “was”.  And our failures retain the same name.  The front of a second is full of potential.  Its back is an eternal seal. 

Every second becomes like an impenetrable box.  They appear predictably, yet mysteriously, then vanish from our grasp.  Nothing else in creation is quite like them.  In the language of men, seconds are the building blocks of time.

Forgiveness and glory are stored in the one kind of box.  Sin and regret have a box of their own. 

Yesterday becomes but a wish.  We wish we had done more.  Or we are forced to wish we had not done.

Today is upon you.  Today is upon us all.  What will be in the boxes of tomorrow is in our hands right now.

Millions of people prove that it is entirely possible to leave the box of forgiveness and glory completely empty all their lives.

I am up the firm persuasion that it is equally in our grasp to leave the box of sin and regret empty also.  But for that you need the power of Christ Jesus in you.

The end of every day must see additions to a box.  And each man owns two.

And by the way, this entire concept applies to our thoughts as well.  Just because they refuse to unveil themselves to our perceptions, doesn’t mean they don’t have substance.  If anyone thought they were in trouble because of their doings, they should realize their thoughts are also vulnerable to condemnation.  After all our brain belongs to us.

By His Grace

The Magnificent Tiny Man!

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Oh you are successful,
You little rascal you!

By doing what no other
Tiny man on earth could do. 

How amazingly strong are you!

With thumb extended,
And held way high,

You cast a shadow on your tiny little eye;

Blocking out the Sun from shining,

On the rest of all mankind!

Such is the one who determines in his heart to do only the portions of Christianity which bring him profit.

By His Grace

The Fashion Police

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Attire of the rich changes from day to day.  Their majesty is not stability, it is chaos.  They lock away acceptance by changing the combination often.  They give the number to those they choose.  Then before it is finished receiving the number is changed again.

What is this fashion?  Is it the sum of things a man might own?  No, this fashion of theirs cannot be held in the hand.  This fashion of theirs is a game of exclusion, and a ruse.

They make the rules of acceptance.  They are the final authority on the love of man.  They themselves are the police who jail all others at will.  They are the judge of what is good and what is evil.  No one enters without their consent.  And those who are in, can be cast away without explanation.  They are the rulers of all creation!

Am I speaking of the rich?  Am I speaking of the famous?  Am I speaking of celebrities, or the great leaders of this world?

Who is he who makes his own rules?  Who is he that excludes others from his friendship?  Who is he who judges by appearance?  Who is he who condemns without hearing the man’s excuses?  Who is he who loves himself more than others?

Does it take power to hate?  Does it take the fame to be proud?  Does it take excellent clothing to consider one’s self as royal? 

Why should I provide the answer to all these questions?  You would not accept them if I did.  There, you answer them!  You are the one who polices your own fashion.  Then answer these questions if you can.

From the pathetic beggar on the street, to the fool who lives in opulence, we have all turned away from the Living God.  We have set a lock on the door of our heart.  We will be king!  God himself will bow to us!  We will have his throne!  Let us simply lay our hands on him, and we will kill him!

You say this is crazy talk!  Is it now?  Prove it to me.  Show me what a tiny place you have left for the rule of God in your life.  Show me the doors of your heart.  Prove to me you have removed the locks.

By His Grace

Midnight’s Holy Voyager

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I took a ride on the floating vessel.  Yet not my body but my mind.

The ticket to ride was not purchased by any thing I owned.  It was given to me by reason of things that are true.  To whom does the truth belong?

I did not board from a dock made by man’s hands.  But I was transported by holy understanding to the deck of a holy ship.

In the light of a holy night, I was bid to look out across the waves.  The movement of which was like three foot swells.

The color of the water was similar to a silt filled pond.  And from the water came a murmuring, like the sound of many men speaking.

A splashing could be heard to my left.  It was like the sound of a man swimming frantically.

An amazing sight gripped me as I looked to see.  Holy hands were working on a portion of the sea!

In a moment the water was formed into the top of a man’s head.  Little by little the torso appeared.

Then with a touch of a finger, the forming aqua man began to glow.  His appearance became like that of water flesh.

Again and again the splashing occurred around the ship.  At random places an aqua man would appear.

I turned to the one who had picked me to come.  I asked.  “What is happening here?”  He pointed to the starboard side saying, “Watch these two”. 

Side by side two heads were forming.  But when the torso had appeared, one continued to form while the other remained only half.

I saw that the one who finished forming was changing in appearance.  From the top of his head toward his feet the color of the Caribbean Sea replaced the color of man’s fleshly tone.  The stilt of the place from which he was formed was abating back down into the sea.

There was a current in his body which drove the stilt to his feet.  And I saw small frothing at his soles which pulled the stilt back to the sea. 

Soon he stood with a radiant face, praising God for pulling him from the sea.  And he began to walk about in full praise of God showing himself to all the waves.

In his walking he became distant from the ship.  But I distinctly watched him evaporate into a beautiful white cloud of brilliance.

I watched the white cloud rise in the moonlight.  Then with a flash of lightning, he let go his water and ascended with great glory.

My companion tapped me on the shoulder.  “Watch now what becomes of the other.”

I looked back to the sea.  There the other was.  He remained half formed.

On his face was evident tumultuous pain.  It was an unhappy countenance, so vastly different from the joy of the other.

There was a frothing at his base.  Within the space of but a little while,  the half formed aqua man was pulled back to the sea.  In a very short time he was no more.

I marveled at the stillness of the water where he had been.  The difference between the two was an obvious and painful knowledge.

My arms had been resting on the railing as I watched all these things.  In astonishment I laid my head in my hands.  My companion allowed me some time to think.

Then he gently put his arm around my shoulders.  ‘Do you understand what you have seen?”  He whispered in a loving tone.

There were tears forming in my eyes as understanding came to me.  “Yes my lord.”  I said.  “I think I do.”

The tears in my eyes were like those of a chameleon.  One eye was watered with joy.  The other was soaked with sorrow.  One eye was held on the place of great glory.  The other transfixed on demise. 

And shall I mention the eyes of my soul?  Those eyes that cannot lie.  With the compulsion of truth, my soul’s eyes saw my own failure.

Perceiving my turmoil, my companion urged me to look about.  And in various places I saw the great creation taking place.  Some would rise to glory, most would fade to oblivion.

I turned to my companion and asked him, “What makes the difference, my Lord?”  His reply was but three words.  Yet they spoke volumes to my soul.  “Agreement or greed”, was all he spoke.

The next moment I found myself in the special place of prayer.  That holy understanding, only a distant frothing of waves.  But the affect is a useful deluge.  As I consider my service to God.

By His Grace

“Have”

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The word “have” is very curious.  With that word we pronounce ownership.  “I have a car.”  “I have a coat.”  “I have an apple.” 

Perhaps there is a moment when those three things can be true.  But just like with everything in this world, “have” is destined to face a certain demise.  Three of its letters are taken away and one is given.  In the stroke of a moment, “have” becomes “had”.  (pun intended)

This being the case, it is right to ask the following question.  Does “have” own and eternal definition?  Is there a place where what we have cannot ever leave us?

And forgive me for meddling in the affairs of men.  But why do we place such prominence on the things we cannot keep?  Why do we love the word “have” and despise the word “had”, when the second reigns supreme over the first.

I’ll leave it to the reader to think it through.

By His Grace

No Beast at All

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The imagination of man is a most hideous place to live.  In that realm, a man envisions his fellow man as an enemy of ghastly proportions.  Such an enemy is able to decapitate him with a Q-tip.  How much fear does that generate?

In the night, while sitting under a tree, a man hears a small noise.  Fear whelms up and fires the furnace of imagination.  Seared by an unholy fire, the man perceives that the falling of a twig is the presence of some horrible beast with glowing eyes, 12 inch razor claws, and frothing jaws.  And this beast does not wander aimlessly!  It has the very man in his perfect sight!

What we don’t know can certainly destroy us.  Not because it is.  But simply because we cannot perceive it with our senses.  How tiny are we who live in the land of the dead?

Even when we encounter the Gospel, we often turn to imagination to explain what we don’t understand.  Isn’t this the reason for idolatry of various kinds?  We strive to make “something” out of what we perceive to be from “nothing”.

With the imagination, we hate our brother out of unfounded fear.  With the imagination, we turn the Glory of heaven into the ravaging chaos of hell.  With the imagination, we dispel the hope of Truth by employing an endless volume of lies.  And all this resides firmly within every man.

We fear what we don’t understand.  We grasp with iron fist, the things of death.  For that is the only reality man has ever known.  “Certainly, if I listen to the Gospel, I will find a God who takes glee at my destruction.  For I am a wicked man who loves wicked things.  And the man who comes to me to speak the holy words of God, only desires to decapitate me with a Q-tip!”

My fellow brother of flesh.  I do bring you the Gospel.  But strive with whatever strength you can, to understand the meaning of that word.  “Gospel” means “Good News”.

I know your heart, for I have the same wicked things in me.  It is not a monster that calls to your soul.  It is the vibrant Love of the Living God that calls to you.  He has proved His Holy Love in the Holy Body of His Beautiful, Faithful, Strong, and Righteous Son.

He wants to ease your fears.  He wants to quench the flames of your unholy imagination.  He wants to replace lies with Eternal Truth.  He wants to relieve you of the drunkenness of fear, to be replaced by the sobriety of peace.

By His Holy Wisdom, He has left free will alone.  You must make the choice to accept His willingness to heal you.

As foolish as it may seem, laying down our lies is a very painful process.  But lies are death.  Truth is Eternal Life.  You don’t have the latter.  Will you endure the former?

The noise you hear, as I speak these things, is no hideous monster.  It is the foot steps of the One who has already proved that He loves you.  Will you find the strength to love Him back enough to be devoured by His Holy Promise of Love?