Mud cakes I make. Diamonds are His.
His voice like many rivers.
Mine is more a hiss.
I speak like shadows
From behind the flesh.
He speaks of Light.
From Eternity’s chest.
By nature I am contrast.
By Glory He is Life.
By Righteousness He’s free.
From hiding I am strife.
So much revealed.
Vast sums are hidden.
Yet it’s enough,
To speak as bidden.
He’s so much life
That even so,
Our tiny words
Produce His will.
To bring His Glory
Down to us;
To shape His message
From the dust.
What is mankind like?
He is like a tiny town nestled in the valley of the mountains.
He plants a vineyard and a crop is yielded.
He wakes, come the day of the harvest, and excitedly runs to reap his crop.
He gives no thanks or honor to God. His busy fingers rape the vine, making sure not to leave even a 10th on the ground.
He and his friends praise one another for the good work they have done. They think they have accomplished the meaning of their life.
Greatly pleased with their reward, they repeat these things over and over until they lay in the grave.
When their soul is wakened to give account, even then they are surprised.
Ever harvesting but never gaining. Ever diligent but the poorest of all creatures.
Thought process: Warning, the following may be tough on your brain.
Sitting all night in Chicago. Yeah in Chicago. The O’Hare oasis as a matter fact. The Lord brought me to a parking spot just before rush-hour. Unless you’ve tried to do that with a 53ft trailer, you have no idea what a miracle it is. Thank you Lord Jesus.
Why would anyone seriously choose to live here. I break it down to the elemental things, it has to do with distractions. They prefer a busily entertained life to following cows around in the pasture.
Warning leap of thought:
God is not a distraction.
(That would be the reason why most of the billboards around Chicago have to do with sex, luxury, gambling or alcohol. Oh yeah, there is the occasional “make you feel guilty” billboard. Hospitals, oh yeah, hospitals are a Big thing. And I can’t leave out the governmental mandates to be happy. Apparently God’s not allowed to be the God of Chicago. It beats me to death to figure out how a city, that has to be so well organized, can worship chaos.)
He himself, in Jesus, is life. Religions are distractions. But Jesus is the center of every religion. (just leaping from one rock of thought to another. Following me this morning takes a little bit of agility.)
This is not to say that every religion recognizes or worships the living God’s holy son. But Jesus provides life. Man’s interpretation of Christ’s sustaining is called religion.
A thought I had earlier:
You can tell someone that Jesus is the son of the living God. They might nod, meaning they understand. But learn to spend quality and dedicated time in prayer with him and the meaing changes exponentially. He is no longer just an invisible figurehead, he becomes the source of your very life. Gladly our personal religion gets tossed out the window. In its place comes a living faith.
(here’s a bit of a rub for you: The living faith I’m talking about is not based on opinion. It is based on the words of the Bible and constantly compared to those holy words. If it weren’t, it would be no different than any other religion; filled with opinions of Man.)
There are fanatics of every distraction, from religions about God to football 🏈 🙃, and every conceivable aspect of life in between. But the true fanatics of Jesus know what I’m talking about. Once he touches your soul personally, you never forget it. You don’t have to memorize a personal religion anymore. You’ve arrived at the place that surpasses them all.
Sorry if this is disjointed. I didn’t intend to write a 300 page book. But to explain all this would surely take at least 300 pages. The mind can put things together in a much smaller space.
Happy assembling.
Word frames to paint the repercussions of sorrow:
How much sorrow in this world is swallowed by humanity? The pain we feel inside never finds a place of release. What is the sound of a wounded heart? Humanity doesn’t have the ability to voice it.
How much sorrow is dished out in this world and the people eat it all day long? What is the size of container necessary to keep it all bottled up? I don’t think such a container could be on the earth, it is just too large!
This is the reason the world is isolated from the glorious throne of the living God. This incubator of godly traits will not find an audience before purity.
If sorrow made a noise what would it be? And if the volume of that noise from one man is loud, what is the sound of all humanity from Adam until now.
Once the sound is uttered, or a feeling of sorrow kept inside, it can never be dismissed or extinguished, it can only be ignored. The deed is done and the payment is in the soul.
It is the mercy of God that we cannot hear the horror of what we do. But God surely hears.
A wailing is heard in heaven. A constant sound of torture, echoing off walls of peace. It is not so much the volume that should be disturbing, it’s the sound itself.
Do we think a little sin is no trouble when compared to a large sin? Doesn’t a small sin add to the roar of sorrow? Who are we to divide what is righteous, what is moderate, and what is deadly?
If God gave us ears to hear what we do, would it subdue our selfish desire? Or would the sound of our own wickedness caused us to wail even louder?
Withdraw from the war against your brothers. Minimize regret.
In our personal religion (that is to say, out response to what we know of God) there is an element of repetition. This repetition is necessary, by virtue of our state of affairs. But do we have room to receive something vastly beyond our petty repetition?
By the use of the word petty, I don’t mean that we are being childish (or even foolish and useless) in our repetition.
What I mean is that the way we perceive things is always shrouded by chaos and death. We may be doing well with what we have; those things we really understand correctly. But I’m convinced there’s something greatly more, and I’m convinced that it’s right to be so convinced.
I guess the question is this, “Is our religion designed so that we can be heard in Heaven? Or is it designed to hear what comes from the God who is absolutely life?” If our religion doesn’t give birth to the second, can it really be valuable?
The materials we use to build a road are worthless, and we consider them worthless. Except for the expense of labor and machinery, there is no value in asphalt. It’s just a mixture of tar and rock.
But come with me in your mind. Look at the streets of heaven. God is the living God. And in his kingdom there is no worthlessness. Everything is of him. Even his streets. I surmise that everything in heaven is living. And that there is no such thing as worthlessness.
What do we know about such a place as this? We travel all the roads without a single thought to the surface we are riding on. We throw trash out the window not the slightest concerned that we are making the road filthy. And every inch we travel is forgotten before we get to it.
Let me make a leap in thought. If this is the condition of difference between our world and the kingdom of heaven, what do we know about God’s righteousness? If we can’t even conceive the nature of God’s streets, how can we hope to understand the nature of his glorious sacrifice?
Like our roads, we know about Jesus. But isn’t it true that before we experience one moment of his glory, it is forgotten in the chaos of the day?
If we try to think on these things to deeply our brain just gives up. The best we can do is give him the best place of honor in everything that we are.
I’m not going to go into the contrast between how the world treats Jesus and how we should treat Jesus. But I sense how radically astounding the difference is.
We: Live, Die, Face Judgment. Jesus or die twice.
My new buddy
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