Category Archives: parable

Patience and passion

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Below is a section from John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.  I have read this book a few times.  But something new strikes me every time.

I have been writing lately about how the world will suffer due to their lack of generosity toward the Lord.  I dare say brother Bunyan has done a much better job than I.
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I saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter took him by the hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little children, each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much disconted, but Patience was very quiet.

Then Christian asked, “What is the reason of the discontent of Passion?”

The Interpreter answered, “The governor of them would have him stay for his best things till the beginning of the next year, but he will have all now; but Patience is willing to wait.”

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet: the which he took up, and rejoiced therein, and withal laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left him but rags.

CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian to the Interpreter, Expound this matter more fully to me.

INTERPRETER: So he said, These two lads are figures; Passion of the men of this world, and Patience of the men of that which is to come; for, as here thou seest, passion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in this world; so are the men of this world: They must have all their good things now; they cannot stay till the next year, that is, until the next world, for their portion of good. That proverb, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” is of more authority with them than are all the divine testimonies of the good of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at the end of this world.

CHRISTIAN: Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 1. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also because he will have the glory of his, when the other has nothing but rags.
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Dance to the tune of possessions, if so much pleasure is the sum of your life.  But the day will come when all that glitters will be Holy, thereby untouchable bike unholy hands.

All who chase after the things of this world, as if their true love, will abhor what is God’s.  The things of this world will rot your soul as you stand before the Most High God for the sake of judgement.  Beware, be warned and be wise.

The island

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In the pitch like darkness of the deep ocean a rumbling of silt and sand occurred.  The slime of refuse gave way to molten rock.  Without approval, a mountain began to grow in the darkness.

The place had been desolate and quiet.  Though it had been a place of gathering for refuse, peacefulness and quiet had attended upon it. But now violence erupted where once there was nothing but filth.  The lord was pleased to cause a new place to grow.  And in his pleasure he spoke growth and life.

Lava forced upward the plate of rock that had once been the bottom of the ocean.  Months of great pressure and violence pushed the plate of rock toward the top of the sea.  Light began to touch the surface of the rock and it cringed at the new world it was being forced to inhabit.  Convulsions shook the plate and the edges curled around its new support.  “I am to perish!  Surely I am dying!”

“What are you doing Oh Lord Great God?  Did I not serve you well in the place where I was?  What is my sin that you should rip me from my rest?”  But the plate heard no reply.

Soon the sound of waves crashing at the edge stirred the plate into near panic.  How deeply it desired to return to its former place.  “This is no place of peace!  It is a place of torture!  What have I done to deserve this horrific uprooting?  Was I not content and faithful to support what the world no longer needed?”  Again, there was no sound from the Living God.  Only the frightening roar of water at the shore.  The tumult threatened to rip the rock apart.

In the years of a rock, very little time passed before the silt upon it top begin to produce.  Shrubs and rough grass filtered in to begin the final transformation.  Seeds had appeared by virtue of the birds who came to visit.  All the while the little island was frightened to see his surface so abused.

As the Island got use to its new place it began to see the beauty of the violence.  The Sun would rise and set, warming the rock in a new place called day.  The moon would bathe him in glorious shimmers; not at all like the darkness he had known.  And the sound of the waves often put him into peaceful sleep.  The wind of God shaped him into smooth and various form.  And the storms which came and went were a wonderous delight of activity.

One day, still a great mystery to the island, an animal set foot on his soil.  With great interest he watched this one.  It was not at all like the others who had come to visit.  Nor was it like those who had been a part of his previous world.  For the first time since his peaceful slumber of filth, the island felt pure joy.

“I like this one Lord.”  The island was heard to say.  “He tickles and scratches at my surface.  And now I am pleased for what you have done.  The pain and memory is receding and now there is joy.”

Centuries passed, and the island was a happy place of thriving life for a multitude of creatures.  What he had been before, he no longer desired to remember.  Joy filled his days and his new place produced great fruit for the Sovereign God who had caused him to be.

“Give thanks to the Lord and be faithful for He is good.  His mercy endures forever!  Be faithful and joy filled.  Give thanks and praise to God.”   The island had come to sing a new song.  “Do not be discouraged at the tumult which now attends your days.  For soon you will be thankful for the violent uprooting.”

By His Grace

The rocks

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I sit by a mountain stream.  Listen to its voice.  Clear as glass, shimmering like liquid diamonds, the water is entrancing.

Where it is from I cannot tell.  Where it goes is a mystery.  But the water will not leave its banks; by sovereign command it flows deeply entrenched.

The rocks within are not like the rocks on dry land.  The land exposes their nakedness.  But the rocks in the stream are coated with a silver cloak.  What is exposed is useful to man.  What lies beneath is useful to the creatures who inhabit that place.

Behold how the Lord has left us a story.  His people are set apart.  They are willing captives to the water of truth.
Once they are in “The Way”, they are immediately set upon by a singular musical sound.  The voice of God encompasses them.  A soothing and promised embrace is theirs forever.

If the land will not hold them and gives them up to the stream, the water of life will smooth their rough edges.  The water will not toss to them back to where they came.  And they will become dressed in silvery tranquil robe.

By His Grace

Total surprise

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I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh spring air.  Such a pleasure after such a long winter.  Flowers blooming, trees coming to bud and that old familiar freshness came to me.  Filled with gladness, I took in what I could.

I heard a faint rumble of thunder.  I don’t remember hearing anyone say there was a storm coming.  So I went around to the back yard full of expectation.  Who is not entranced by the spectacular?

What greeted my eyes was fully unexpected.  It looked like one gigantic single cloud.  Black as pitch it hung close to the ground.  And as I looked up its height the blackness did not fade.  It appeared as a tower of obsidian.

At the top were white wispy fingers stretching my direction.  It looked as if the column of blackness was swimming in the sky.

The cloud was a long way off.  I felt no compulsion to hide.  It was a magnificent sight!  All I wanted to do was watch it change.

What happened next can only be remembered.  I can’t say I saw it coming.  But it traveled such a long distance that, in my memory, I could have drawn the very place in the cloud from which it came.

Angled toward me through the sky as if bouncing off invisible walls.  Though I perceived its direction, there was no possible way to think it was coming to me.

A split second later I found myself over 50 feet away from where I had been standing.  Laying crumpled on my side, it took a few minutes to remember I had legs.  Abrasions decorated my body in strategic spots.

With my balance regained and my mind refocused, I began to remember what had happened.  I looked to where I had been; trying to make sense of a lost 3 minutes.

The cloud still made an eerie backdrop for a useless light pole.  It had been my close companion as I marveled at the cloud.  The metal pole was shattered.  It looked like some Picasso drawing of steel fire.  I guess that was a little more voltage than the engineer had foreseen.

With my senses regained, I found myself tearing at curiosity.  “Into the house. Go into the house.”  I had to keep telling myself out loud.

Once inside the house I went to the desk to write.  This was not something I wanted to forget.  But as I wrote, a thought kept dancing like a candle in my mind.

Something about the West.  Something about lightning.  Then, as if I heard a voice,  I understood the crystal clear meaning.

“As lightning flashes from the east to the west so will the coming of the Son of man be.”

By His Grace

Death

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He always gets his way.  If he ever announces his approach he does not invite debate.  He is charged to render helplessness.  And there is not a fiber of compassion within him.

Often he sends out his emissaries to prepare the way before him.  Sickness and Chaos do his bidding.  Their love for their Lord is unswaying.  Singing their own special songs, they move through this world with dedicated heart.  Despite their cleverness, no one ever stands against them.

The sins of man have ushered in the power of death.  It is the will of the Sovereign God that all which is unholy will cease.  And death has come as an obedient servant.

Let all men be aware.  There is a place in eternity where death will be given great power.  For now, his power is limited to a few everyday.  But at the end of his existence he will slay countless hordes.

With one fell swoop of his power he will destroy all the wicked.  Not a one will go unattended.  As Sampson was given the strength to kill more Philistines in his death then all in his life, so death will bring down the house of God’s enemies.

Did you not perceive these things?  Have you really thought you would live a life of peace forever?  Did you honestly believe you could do as you please and escape the power of the second death?

There is no escape from death but by the power of the One who made him.  The name of this One is Jesus.

By His Grace

I Set Sail

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I stood on the shore.  A boat with sail was there.  Anxiety was upon me and I looked for escape.

Into the boat I lept.  With all my strength and quickness I raised the sail.  With knowledge of direction I headed out.

But I did not go toward Tarshish.  I sailed for three miles out.  Let the sound of crashing waves dim the onslaught.  Let their sound not reach me.  Let no bug or bird see me.  I have had my fill.

I pulled the sail down.  Let the great current pull me.  My knees slammed to the bottom of the boat.  And my soul set sail for God.
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Back on shore I write these things.  Refreshed and strong for battle.  But now perceiving the war is not mine.  The Holy One of Israel is my shield.

In him we live and move and have our being.  What then is assailed at us?   It is he who protects.  It is he whom they hate.  Who am I to stop my ears?

From atop the sea

His wisdom found me.

And all my anxiety

Has proved not but folly.

By His Grace