A Word From My Flesh


As I stand and praise God, receiving majestic revelation I am lost in the beauty of eternity.

Then a shadow catches my attention.  Someone has come, begging to be heard.

I turn to look.  It is my flesh!

With his mouth held open in awe, he speaks to me.

“Don’t you realize that what you are doing and saying is insane?”

I look down at him, and who can explain the look on my face?  What reply can he possibly expect?  What reply lends credence to my incredulity?  I speak the only words appropriate to the moment.

“Don’t you realize that you don’t understand what sanity is?”

My flesh gets a Ripin


Everybody loves to see the bad guy get a whoopin.  Even a bold tongue lashing satisfies the itch for justice.  Isn’t that how Hollywood makes most of their bucks?

I invite you to my personal altercation.   The setting is that imperceptible slice between soul and body.   It was held in that tiny room that no man can enter alone.

Every house has a room like this, but not very many people know where it is.  The people who are proud of their house would even deny that such a room can exist within their four walls.  Even immaculate places of men  have hideous secrets.

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

This isn’t the first time I’ve sat you down for a talk.  It’s not possible that this is the last time either.

I know these talks don’t do you any good.  Cuz every time you nod, like you understand, I hear the loose screws rattle around.  Yeah, just like that.

But I just need to vent a little bit, and now’s as good a time as any.

I don’t mean this bad, but you are simply insane.  Nothing you want will ever come to you.  And you trash everything you do get.

Apparently you don’t know anything about age.  You seem to think you’re still 17 and single.  The only things you ever remember are all the good times you had while you were flatline stupid.

You always have some foolish suggestion when I look to do things right.  And I just get tired of listening to you babble.

You lust after everything.  Your strawberry isn’t big enough, ripe enough or juicy enough.  There isn’t a plate in our house big enough to satisfy your tiny belly.

If you do something and don’t get caught, you think you’re righteous.  If I could finish my time here without you, I’d throw you into a dungeon myself.

You used to carry me around every place you wanted to go.  But now I gotta drag your worthless legs every where.

The only bright side to this ungodly union, is that you don’t have much time left.  Man oh man, will I be happy on the morning when you stop being able to open your greedy eyes!  Cuz that’s the morning when I get a whole new set.

Well its been real nice talking to you.  Strangely enough, I do feel better.  I appreciate your silence for the last few minutes.  Even if I found it hard to bear your blank stare.

By His Grace

The Insane Farmer


There was a man who inherited a beautiful Farm.  It was situated on an open plain, high above the valley.  His acreage was mixed with a large open meadow and a forest of trees.  The house on the property was exceedingly well-built and perfectly proportioned for the life of one man.

When he went into the house to claim his inheritance, he found it in pristine order.  It was furnished with everything he might need.  On the dining room table was a note that had been left for the new owner.  The note read as follows:

You will find this place perfectly suited to you.  I have lived my life here as will you; isolated yet healthy.  Troubled, yet busy.  Farming is no easy business.  But you will grow to appreciate the gift.

You will find a good bag of seeds in the pantry.  Plow and plant a good crop, as seems best to you.  The ground is very fertile.  The crop you raise will produce a good profit for your labor.  You will also find a sled, a saw, and an axe in the barn. 

I leave you with only two stipulations.  Give of the overflow of your crop to the people in the valley below.  And as you find yourself able and willing, produce plenty of firewood.  The overflow of wood you are to bear on the sled to the people in the valley below also.

Otherwise you are more than welcome to live the rest of your life in this beautiful place I have prepared from my successor.”

The soul of the man was overjoyed to do the things required of him.  And in his first year he found the land rich and the trees prime for harvest.  The work was, indeed difficult.  But the joy of harvest overcame the sweat, blood, and frustrations.  After delivery of his first gifts to the valley, he sat well satisfied.  Giving of his harvest had made it all worthwhile.

The man was not a good farmer but he was willing to learn.  And the cutting down the trees was difficult at first.  But he was faithful to deliver his abundance of crop and firewood to the people below.

But there is a reason why this man was picked to inherit this beautiful gift.  The previous owner had been looking for just such as he to hand down the property.  The current owner had a bit of an insane bend.

He would work for weeks as a perfectly rational farmer.  Then the sky would be witness to a moment or two of insanity.

On random days, the morning would see him go to the barn.  He would take his well made shovel and head out to the field.  With wild-eyed diligence, he would dig a small trench around a tiny portion of crop.  When the trench had isolated that portion, he would set it on fire.  With his insanity satiated from his odd work, he would go back to the house with his head hung low.

Throughout the night perplexity would overcome him with sorrow.  No mater how he reasoned, he could not explain his lack of wisdom.  And as the next morning came, the sky would be witness to him as he sat on his front porch trying to understand.

At first such moments in the morning were filled with sorrow and tears.  But as the years passed, the sky would see him wrestle, in truth, to accept what he could not change.

He was a man mixed with faithful endurance and ridiculous insanity.  Thus the reason for his isolation.  Who in the valley would understand?  Yet by his beautiful inheritance, he gave them what he could.

How many of us are like this man?  Though we know to do good, we find ourselves doing evil.  And how do we find ourselves able to explain this insanity?

Perhaps there are many who can overcome this circus of failure.  But for the majority, overcoming does not appear.

But take note of the man’s response to his own incredible weakness.  He was faithful to deliver the expectation.  And he did not flinch to provide.  While sanity ruled his days, he worked from sun up to sun down.  Determination remained to fulfill his charge.  And who can say?  Perhaps his sane determination was in excess; so as to replace what his insanity destroyed.

When you find those moments of sorrow, endure them with what truth lives in your soul.  Then get back to your feet and get back to work.  There are people depending on what faithfulness you are able to sustain.

Do not let your failings disrupt the needs of others.  They too have their own moments of unexplainable insanity.  But by our meager faithfulness, the community of men is sustained.

P. S. This story makes no mention of grace, nor the Gospel.  But the Grace of God, and the Good News of Christ, are the singular reason for every work produced here.

By His Grace