One day you make an unexpected friend of a previous enemy. It’s happened to everyone of us.
When will we learn? When will we stop pre-judging? When will we give room for the hope of God in others? When will we forgive past deeds so that life can come?
From where comes your next unexpected friend? Life never comes to us as we expect it to be painted. Yet, when will we learn what we already know?
Be wise in Christ toward evil, but do not close the door to hope.
Rising up in their midst, in this particular generation, is a man who speaks of the ancient ways. They call them ancient ways, as if they are dead, but they have simply been pushed out of the way.
Much to their amazement, and to some extent disgust, the old words present themselves again. They thought time had destroyed them. They thought the modern age had made them obsolete. To complete their pleasure, all they had to do was wait for the old ones to die.
How surprising that the ancient words of history live even today! And how surprising it will be, that when they think their victory complete, babies are raised up to speak them again!
My friends, they are not ancient words, as if the eyes of man sees decay. They are ancient eternally long before the beginning of this place. They are as strong this moment as they were from the beginning. And to your amazement, they will thrive long after you are dead.
The language of man has changed, and so his toys and the use thereof. But truth and mercy are never ending; from eternally before to eternally after. It is only your wicked perception that gives truth a time limit. It is only the perception of wicked men that relegates truth to the old folks, in the obscurity of their death.
By His Grace
A rich man drove his new BMW to an important meeting. In the crowded traffic he became stuck in rush hour.
A dirty ragged man came to wash his windshield, at least that’s what the rich man thought. Instead the bum came over to his driver’s window.
With serious and intelligent eyes, the bum encouraged the man to roll down his window. With regret, the window move down about 2 inches.
“Give me your shiny car and I will give you all the money in my pocket.” The bum said.
The rich man smiled. His eyes lit up, like a hunter who has spotted a trophy. He opened the door and stepped outside. He handed the bum his keys and said, “Where can I send you the title”.
With a great loving smile the bum reached in his pockets. His dirty craggy fingers hauled out five rather large rolls of hundred dollar bills. “I’ll Drive you to your office and wait for you while you get the title.”
The deal had been struck. With compassion and abandon for life, the rich man had gained a precious memory.
The title was exchanged. When the rich man counted the money, the total came to the price he had paid for the car.
What became of the bum and the car, no one knows. But what became of the rich man’s heart was easily seen by the life he later chose. He had been released from the fear of greed. And all because he was not afraid to take a chance. He counted compassion as more valuable than money.
“From the days of John the Baptist until now, life is given unto the kingdom of the heavens, and the valiant take hold of it.” (Matthew 11:12, Jubilee Bible 2000)
By His Grace
There are millions of lies we are taught to believe in this world. All of them have their basis in deserving.
We deserve freedom. We deserve to be wealthy. We deserve healthy children. We deserve to retire and enjoy our old age. We deserve to be accepted by God when we die, after all he make us. And among the most damaging is this: We deserve to die peacefully, in our own bed and in our old age.
So when death comes unexpectedly the people are outraged. Why are they upset? Bereavement is expected. But pointing blame on someone else, particularly at God, finds its roots at a lack of understanding and believing in lies.
Instead of wasting precious time and energy trying to stave off death, men would do far better to prepare. Accidents happen. Hearts stop beating. Illness takes anyone it pleases. And the murderous nature of man does not ask permission.
You would think men would give this serious consideration. You would think they would turn to God in their youth and in their health. But this is rarely the case.
More often people use their youth and their health to prepare for great wealth and longevity of life. If they think of death it is because it happens to someone else. Isn’t this ironic?
God takes souls when it pleases him. I have never heard of a case where he appeared to someone and asked permission. When our turn comes it is often swift and utterly devastating.
I’m not highlighting anything new here. Contrary to popular belief, death has been around for a long long time. It is really good at what it does. And it never says, “I’m sorry”.
Those who died unreconciled to God, remain that way for eternity. Now you may think that’s rather pompous of me, to exclude so many worldly ideals. What does it matter what you think?
God has sent His Son. That very message has been around for a long long time. You’ve likely heard of it. And you’ve likely covered your ears.
Do you really think your ignorance of the will of God in Christ will nullify your condemnation for eternity? “I didn’t know!” Yes you did. You simply chose not to acknowledge. Pleasure seemed to be far more fun.
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
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