Our small house church, though modest in number, stands as a precious testimony to a deeper reality, a reality that transcends the glittering edifices and booming stages of modern Christendom.
Over a decade ago I made the conscious, Spirit-led shift, joining countless others across the globe who have heard the still small voice calling them out of spiritual Babylon. For in every generation, God reserves for Himself a remnant, a people who will not bow the knee to Baal, no matter how cunningly he reinvents himself through culture, compromise, or counterfeit religion.
Before our very eyes unfolds the tragic convergence of the harlot church, a synthesis of worldliness and religion, dressed in finery but inwardly defiled. Its heartbeat is not the cross, but the stage; not the Spirit, but spectacle. As it was in Rome, so it is today. The Coliseum, once the epicenter of Roman life, rose from the gold and silver plundered by Titus during the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. One temple fell, another was built. Worship of the Holy was replaced by worship of self, veiled in the opiate of entertainment. Bread and circuses—tools of distraction, tools of dominion.
Yet the martyr Stephen, in his final breath, echoed the words of our Lord: “The Most High does not dwell in temples made by human hands.” Jesus, speaking to the Samaritan woman, dismantled the geography of worship and pointed to its essence—Spirit and truth. When asked, “Where should we worship?” Christ responded not with a location, but with a mandate: how we are to worship.
It is vital—indeed, imperative—that the true saints gather not around programs, performances, or personalities, but around the presence of God. In Spirit. In truth. And as the great Day of the Lord draws ever nearer, this calling becomes all the more urgent. For history has shown: men gather to entertain themselves. But few gather to worship God as He has ordained.
Let us, then, be counted among the few—those walking the narrow path that leads to life. Let us not be swept away by the many, whose feet tread the broad road of destruction. Let our assemblies be small, but pure; hidden, but radiant. May our worship rise not from stages, but from sanctified hearts. For the time is short, and the Bride must make herself ready.
A couple of days ago, I found myself praying through the pain. The weight of chronic suffering pressed hard against my body, sleepless nights, relentless aches, and then came the news: my mother, already fragile, had fallen again, twice in three days. Now she lies in a hospital bed back in Scotland, and I feel the ache of distance more deeply than the pain in my bones.
But in the middle of this storm, our little fellowship had just been walking through Colossians 1, and Paul’s words struck deep: “Strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power, for all patience and longsuffering with joy.” Oh, what a mystery! That in our weakness, we are strengthened, not by our own feeble will, not by grit or determination, but by all might, according to His glorious power. It is Christ. It is all Christ. His strength, His might, His glory. He initiates, He enables, and in Him, we become more than conquerors. And as this truth ignited my spirit, a prayer rose from the depths, a cry not of despair but of victory, and it thrilled my soul and lifted me high, far above the valley, to a place where joy and power meet on the mountaintop of faith. Glory to God!
……………………This was my prayer……….
When every last breath is torn from my lungs, still, I will give You the kiss of life. When I have tasted no food for many days, my soul shall yet feed the hungry. When the sun has hidden its face and the heavens remain cloaked in silence, I will lift my face to You, and You, O Radiant One, will shine through me. And when my heart is heavy with sorrow and anguish drowns my soul, I will break the alabaster jar of joy and pour it out upon the weary. O Lord of Heaven and Earth! Even in the testing, even in the fire and the fury, even in the shadow of death and in the long-suffering of my pain, let me be a blessing. Let me bless them from the prison of that pain. Let me lift them from the depths of my own valley. If they are halfway up the mountain and I am still far below, let them hear my song rise from the depths:Glory to God. Glory to God!
And may the valley blaze with the light of that glory. Let the darkness tremble. Let chains be shattered. Let the echo of praise thunder through every cavern, For You, O King, are worthy in fire and flood, in feast and famine. Majesty in the valley. Majesty on the mountain.
If I can rejoice in the midst of suffering, then I stand at the threshold of a sacred mystery, that place where I, in my own frail flesh, “fill up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ… for the sake of His Body.” Only the soul saturated and drenched in the Spirit of the Living God, can rise in the midst of wreckage of loss and cry out with trembling lips, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord!” This is no mere endurance, no stoic stance, it is a sacred participation in the sorrow and the splendor of Christ. It is the fellowship of His suffering. A communion few will dare to enter, too costly for most, and yet it is the very ground where heaven bows down and kisses the wounded earth
When heaven collides with earth, then it enters into sorrow. How could it be otherwise? One is perfect, the other a ruin of its original. And we, we who have been born from above, have been invaded by that very heaven. It fills our bones. It saturates our hearts. And in that collision we begin to drink from the same bitter cup our Lord once drank. We are not spectators. We are not distant. We are His Body, and so we must enter into that same sorrow, that way of suffering, and there we must rejoice in the midst of it all. And the joy we share, as we tarry there, begins to tear down the kingdom of darkness.
Our joy is the indelible, supernatural fingerprint of heavens glory that lies within us. Our brokenness, shattered by a dying world, becomes the sacred fissures through which the glory of God bursts forth. And as that glory pours forth, it kisses the wounded earth, and it becomes a balm of Gilead. It is the fellowship of His suffering. It is the communion of the afflicted. It is the royal priesthood of the scarred and the sanctified. A holy nation, set apart, bearing upon our very bodies the marks of our King. Not in shame, but in triumph. Not in defeat, but in everlasting victory.
I find myself increasingly dismayed by the widespread lack of discernment concerning not only the papacy but the Catholic Church as a whole. Speaking as a former Catholic, one who departed from the Church upon experiencing a genuine conversion, a born-again encounter with Christ. I am particularly troubled by the growing acceptance of Catholicism among Protestant and Evangelical circles that, only a few decades ago, would have maintained a clear separation. The shift over the past 25 to 30 years is both significant and concerning.
Research indicates that there are at least 20 million former Catholics in the United States alone. Of these, studies suggest that approximately 80–90% departed after undergoing a born-again experience. If we extend these figures to South America, the number nearly doubles, approaching 50 million individuals across the Americas who have left Catholicism for similar reasons. When extrapolated globally, the figure could be closer to 100 million. There is, therefore, a profound and deliberate reason why so many now identify as “ex-Catholics,” myself included, and I do not hesitate to affirm that designation.
The widespread failure to recognize these realities, in my view, correlates closely with the phenomenon commonly referred to as the “Great Falling Away” a time marked by diminishing spiritual discernment, widespread biblical illiteracy, and the dilution of Protestant witness, which has become but a shadow of its former vitality. This erosion continues largely unabated.
The idea that the head of the Catholic Church, the Pope, could be regarded as a born-again believer is, in my estimation, theologically untenable and historically absurd. This is to say nothing of the longstanding doctrinal errors promulgated by the Catholic Church, foremost among them the dogma of transubstantiation. The claim that a priest has the authority to transform a piece of bread into the literal body of Christ not only defies plain scriptural teaching but also strains credulity to the utmost. Such a claim, divorced from biblical foundations, highlights the extent of the doctrinal chasm.
Given these concerns, I have deliberately refrained from engagement with recent papal funerals, elections, and public commentary surrounding the pontificate. I am personally persuaded that the figure of the Pope, whether the present or a soon-coming successor, will fulfill the prophetic role of the False Prophet, one who will direct the world to the Antichrist, declaring him to be the true Christ. In a world that increasingly regards the Pope as the de facto figurehead of Christianity, reverently referring to him as the “Holy Father” and the “Vicar of Christ,” such developments seem to me to be falling into place with alarming predictability.
Then Moses stood, trembling before the living God and cried, “If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here!” What use is a promised land without the presence of the Lord? What use victory without the Victor? Better to die in the wilderness with His presence than to live in palaces void of His presence. Moses didn’t crave gold or glory—only God. “How will they know we have found grace in Your sight unless You are with us? For it is Your Presence that sets us apart from all the peoples of the earth!”
This plea came after the shame of the golden calf. God had said, “I will not go in your midst, lest I consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people.” Judgment hung heavy. But the people responded with brokenness, they stripped themselves of their ornaments, the very gold they once used to craft an idol. What was once an object of rebellion would now be set apart for worship, given for the building of the tabernacle. Out of ashes, something holy would rise.
God, moved by the bold and broken cry of His servant, said to Moses, “I will do this thing that you have spoken, for you have found grace in My sight, and I know you by name.”
Oh, the wonder of being known by God, not just as a face in the crowd, but as a beloved child. Your name, spoken from His lips. The same voice that formed the stars knows your name.
But Moses was not satisfied. He wanted more. “Show me Your glory!” he cried. The cloud wasn’t enough. The fire wasn’t enough. The voice on Sinai wasn’t enough. He longed to see God Himself. Do we? Do you long for His presence with such desperation? Is this one desire the fire that burns in your bones?
David knew that longing. “I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved… for in Your Presence there is fullness of joy.” Not a taste, not a whisper, not a portion-fullness. The very life of the soul. Like a deer pants for the water, so our souls should pant for Him. We cannot go forward unless He goes with us. We need the cloud by day, the fire by night, and the glory that changes everything.
David cried again in Psalm 27, “One thing I have desired of the Lord, that will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple.” His heart was not set on fame or fortune, but on this one thing—to dwell with God, to see His beauty, to be near Him. In the time of trouble, God would hide him, lift him high upon the Rock.
To Moses, God replied, “I will make all My goodness pass before you… but no one can see My face and live. Still, there is a place by Me. Stand on the rock. I will hide you in the cleft of the rock and cover you with My hand. Then you shall see My back.” What a mercy. What a gift. Moses stood on the Rock, hidden in the cleft, shielded by God’s hand, and he saw the glory of the Lord.
Dear brothers and sisters, do you stand upon the Rock? Are you hidden in the cleft? Has the hand of God covered you, and have you glimpsed His glory? Has it changed you from the inside out? Like Isaiah, who saw the Lord and was undone. Like Jeremiah, who burned with His word. Like Ezekiel, who fell before the wheels of glory. Has His fire touched your lips?
This is no ordinary walk. This is the baptism of fire. For Jesus said, “I have come to cast fire upon the earth, oh, how I wish it were already kindled!” Our God is a consuming fire. He burns away the flesh, the pride, the idols, and reveals His glory in the soul that longs for Him. Let that fire fall.
This is a song I wrote about about the valleys of brokenness to the mountaintops of divine encounter.It declares the eternal power of the Lord’s sacrifice and the unshakeable glory of God’s presence. It can be for personal worship or gatherings and I pray that it will draw you close to Jesus. The valleys spoken of in this song are very real, as is the mountaintops. We are called to worship in both places!…..bro Frank
It is a holy thing to know who you are in the Lord. To search the chambers of your own spirit with trembling , for the flesh is relentless, and is our most cunning foe. It creeps in as a whisper, yet departs in a tempest, tearing as it goes. But the Lord, ah, the Lord He speaks not in thunder, nor in the earthquake, but in that still, small voice. It is not the volume that stirs and shakes mountains, but the weight of the Word itself, Spirit-breathed, eternal.
For passion can rage like a sea in a storm, waves rising like giants, smashing all that dares to stand. But gaze upon the Christ before Pilate, Truth wrapped in silence, power clothed in meekness. Love’s boldness stood face to face with earthly might, yet never raised its voice in pride or vanity, the power of knowing.
If the message be truly of God, then it does not waver,it is unchanging, steadfast as His own Word. But the messenger? Oh, he is tested. Ridiculed. Wounded. Laid bare. He is stripped of self until he walks quietly, humbly, unknown to men, yet known to God. His heart beats not for applause but for obedience, to carry the fire he was given.
It is sweet, yes,so sweet,to hear His voice. But to speak it? That is often bitter. Bittersweet, the flavor of the prophetic path. Yet we must be faithful. Come storm or silence, come crowd or solitude,we must speak what He has spoken.
Let the waves crash, let the world rage. But let us walk on. One step in front of the other. One day at a time. Falling down but getting back up again. We can do all of this in Christ alone. In Him all things are possible and only by the power of the Holy Spirit can the message be delivered.
The great spiritual decline we are experiencing has many roots.Both leadership and the people share responsibility for spiritual decline. While leaders bear the weight of accountability, the congregation is not without blame. What we witness today, particularly in the rise of large churches and the decline of true faith, mirrors the law of diminishing returns.
To clarify, the law of diminishing returns states that as you increase one factor of production—such as labor or capital—while keeping other inputs constant, the additional benefit from each added unit will eventually decrease. In the context of faith, simply increasing the number of people in a church does not equate to spiritual growth. In fact, it can have the opposite effect.
Consider a family barely surviving on limited resources. If several more families move in without an increase in provisions, everyone suffers. The same principle applies to the church: if discipleship and spiritual nourishment are neglected in favor of entertainment and distraction, then increasing attendance only amplifies the problem. Rather than strengthening the body of Christ, it weakens it.
Jesus transformed the world with just twelve disciples. It was not their numbers but the presence of the Lord in their midst that made the difference. Where two or three gather in His name, His presence is enough to accomplish immeasurable things. A few loaves and fish can feed thousands when blessed by Him. Yet today, multitudes gather, feeding on the abundance of their own works, and still, they starve spiritually.
True power lies not in the size of the gathering but in the reality of His presence, His purpose, and His work in the midst of His people.
The great falling away isn’t about people no longer “going to church,” since the concept of attending “church” is foreign to the Scriptures. Genuine believers are the Church. The true falling away is a departure from truth itself. A building may be packed with people, but who are they spiritually? Are they radical followers of Jesus with deep relationships with Him, or compromisers who embrace Christ but reject the cross?
Those of us who have left religious traditions—I myself am a former Catholic—are well-acquainted with the Sunday-only Christian who checks a box by attending a service, perhaps even midweek gatherings, men’s BBQ nights, or women’s retreats. I call this the processed church. Just as processed food is altered from its original state for convenience—loaded with sugars, unhealthy fats, preservatives, and lacking nutrients—the spiritually processed church has also been altered for convenience.
What are the spiritual effects of this processed church? Consider the “added sugar”: elaborate stages, entertainment-driven worship bands, and smoke machines designed to hype people up, compensating for the absence of God’s genuine presence. Many nominal believers have never truly encountered God’s authentic presence and therefore cannot discern the difference.
Think of “unhealthy fats and low nutrients”: the Word of God diluted, compromised, and stripped of its true nutritional value. These “fats” are sermons focused solely on worldly success, prosperity teachings, and self-enrichment schemes, creating spiritually unhealthy Christians who must continually rely on shallow injections of emotional hype to stay spiritually “alive.” The church system has taught its followers dependency on itself rather than complete reliance on Jesus.
What’s the solution? Revolution—a total abandonment of this processed religious system in favor of something pure, raw, organic, and unaltered by worldly additives. Without such radical change, the current system will collapse under the weight of worldliness and self-centered doctrines disguised as salvation.
There is a growing hunger, especially among younger generations raised within spiritually unhealthy environments, for authenticity, radical commitment, and an uncompromising devotion to Christ Himself. They desire a church wholly devoted to Jesus, characterized by quiet reverence and genuine holiness. A community where believers edify one another according to Scripture, where prophecy, exhortation, wisdom, tongues, and interpretations are practiced. A fellowship without hierarchical leadership, led instead by humble elders and deacons who serve selflessly, desiring no recognition or financial reward. A place that equips believers to live radically, to embrace suffering for Christ, proudly bearing the cross and the scars upon their backs as marks of their love, devotion and authenticity.
This is the organic Church—unprocessed by the world, radically committed to Jesus Christ and His Kingdom.
There remains a remnant—a people set apart, standing in the wilderness to proclaim God’s truth. They are anchored in His Word, separate from the systems of religion, for they understand that Christ did not come to establish another religion but to restore relationship.
To be outside the camp carries risk. When Israel fell into idolatry with the golden calf, a separation was established between the people and God. The Tent of Meeting, set outside the camp, became a place where Moses, Joshua, and the priests entered into His presence, while the people could only watch from their tents. This same idolatry persists today, creating a divide between God and those entangled in religious systems.
The camp represents the churches and religious institutions of our time, while the priests—God’s remnant—have left the camp in pursuit of the true dwelling place of His presence. To enter the Tent of Meeting, one must first “come out from among her.” When Israel entered the Promised Land, the Tent was replaced by the temple, but in time, the temple itself became a stronghold of religion, ultimately torn down stone by stone. And yet, the Tent returns, a place of worship in the wilderness—a place called Spirit and Truth.
As Jesus told the Samaritan woman at the well:
“Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, and you Jews say that in Jerusalem is the place where one ought to worship.”
Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe Me, the hour is coming when you will neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem worship the Father. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such to worship Him. God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.“(John 4:20-24)
True worship is not bound to temples built by human hands but is found where God dwells—outside the camp, beyond the gate. The Lord, who was crucified at Calvary, stands in contrast to the Holy of Holies within the temple. While religious men seek their refuge in structures and traditions, the Lord calls His people to meet Him in Spirit and truth.
The call goes forth: Come out of the camp. Come to the Tent of Meeting. Come and tabernacle with the Lord.
The vast majority of professing Christians do not have the ability to digest meat. People eagerly receive words of encouragement and exhortation,as a hungry baby would consume it’s mother’s milk. But when confronted with warnings or rebukes, only the faithful remnant of God truly “hear”—or rather, acknowledge—the truth. It takes wisdom and discernment and the Holy Spirit to assess the times in which we live.
In Ezekiel 9,10 and 11 we see the beginnings of Gods withdrawing His presence. The word Ichabod is effectively pronounced over the doorposts, signaling the absence of His glory. Destruction follows, but not before an angel with an ink-horn marks those who remain faithful—those who grieve over the sins of Jerusalem. These are the ones spared from judgment. As it was in Ezekiel’s day, so it is now. The nature of humanity remains unchanged.
Many choose willful ignorance, preferring to live lawlessly, unconcerned with the truth. Few, indeed, find and remain on the narrow path. In times of crisis, drastic measures are required—this is true in our personal lives, in our families, and in our nations. Yet Christendom, broadly speaking, refuses to acknowledge its condition. If it did, if it truly recognized the spiritual desperation of our times, then urgent action would follow.
We would not laugh and celebrate as though all were well—we would weep before the altar, before the throne of God. We would not focus on outward appearances but would humble ourselves in deep repentance. We would clothe ourselves in sackcloth, throw ashes upon our heads, and tear our garments in grief. And still, the masses would mock and call us mad.
The leaders of the people know that true reformation would begin with them. Yet these hirelings—those who serve only for personal gain—can never truly protect the sheep. They stay as long as the path is easy, as long as their position remains profitable and their place in society secure. But when the wolf comes, they will flee.
True repentance and restoration demand that we forsake the traditions of men and return to the “old paths”—to God’s ways. It would mean restoring a sense of accountability, where if a man does not work, he does not eat. But these are the very truths the blind refuse to see, which is why they continue leading the blind. “Men will only recognize the truth when it doesn’t cost them anything. But when truth demands a price, they reject it.” (Ravenhill)
As a young Christian, I found myself standing in a church one day, worshiping. In that moment, I had a vision. I saw a vase being violently thrown to the ground, shattering into countless pieces. Though some larger fragments remained, they too were gathered and thrown down again. This process repeated three times until the vase was utterly destroyed—broken beyond any hope of repair.
Then, I realized—I was the vase.
As I watched, I saw what I knew to be my heavenly Father. With small spectacles resting at the tip of His nose, He carefully picked up each tiny, even microscopic shard. With supernatural love and patience, He began to restore the vase, piece by piece, bringing it back to wholeness. What had seemed irreparably broken was being made new.
That morning, I was able to share this vision with the fellowship, and it has remained deeply significant to me. Perhaps that’s why 2 Corinthians 4 holds such a special place in my heart.
If you find yourself completely shattered today—broken by life and circumstances beyond any hope of repair—know this: there is a God in heaven who can restore you. He can heal, renew, and make you whole, just as He always intended. His Son, Jesus, was broken for us, disfigured beyond recognition, yet through the power of the Holy Spirit, He was raised from the dead. That same Spirit is reaching out to you now, ready to lift you up if you take His hand.
Scripture is utterly radical. I love reading it aloud (as my brothers and sisters know) The other day, I imagined a family gathered around a table, long before phones and computers existed. In their hands is a letter from a beloved family member. One person begins to read, and the whole family leans in, hanging on every word. If the reader pauses, some eager soul bursts out, “What does he say next?
I’ve never understood why some read Scripture as if delivering a sorrowful obituary. There is life in the Word! And there is even greater life in reading it aloud. It moves something in the Kingdom of God. It stirs the unseen realm, sending ripples of concentric circles through the world in ways we cannot perceive. It shakes, it draws, it calls forth something of heaven’s atmosphere into the here and now.
The spirit within us—once dead but now raised to life by the power of the Holy Spirit—begins to rise, like flames leaping up when the breath of life blows upon hot coals. It ignites. It burns. It puts fire in our bones. Our God is a consuming fire and His Word kindles the fire that is within us.
The men that inhabit the pulpits of today refuse to see that the writing is on the wall for our present religious system. They will not listen because their livelihoods depend upon ignoring the truth. I recall Duncan Campbell sharing how he had to step away from the system of men—relinquishing the manse, his career, and the security that came with it. For seventeen years, he remained in a church where he was not called, held there by the comfort of stability.
Paul worked with his own hands and declared that those unwilling to work should not eat. Being a pastor, teacher, evangelist, or prophet is not a profession one assumes; it is an identity bestowed at the new birth and the baptism of the Holy Spirit. Paul declared woe upon himself if he did not preach the gospel—it was a fire consuming his very being.
If money were removed from the American church, only then would we see the true shepherds continuing to do what they do-making disciples. The gifts of God are not mere roles we fulfill but the essence of who we are, compelling us to act according to our divine nature—our supernature. Even as God raises up His remnant, He is dismantling the clergy-laity system. How? By leaving it to its own resources, sustained only by entertainment and human effort rather than the presence of God and the manifestation of His Spirit within His people.
If I had a dollar for every time someone said “God told me,” I’d be a wealthy man. Yet, in the spirit of generosity and assuming the best of my brothers and sisters, I recognize that much of what has been spoken to me—often with sincere intentions—has been filtered through the prism of their soul and flesh. I’m primarily talking about Pentecostals as opposed to Charismatics of whom I have limited experience. Don’t get me wrong, I believe with all of my heart God speaks to His people and they know His voice.
However, it must also be acknowledged that we tend to “hear” what we want to hear. The flesh is cunning, and it has a voice—a persuasive, insistent voice that will use any means necessary to get its way. I hear it most clearly when I’ve been wronged, when the inner narrative in my mind begins constructing its defense, justifying responses that are anything but godly.
Yet that same loud voice can also be very subtle, whispering in ways that seem harmless, even reasonable. Ways that are always self-serving.This is precisely why Scripture calls us to “mortify” the deeds of the flesh. It is why we are commanded to take up our crosses daily. The more we die to our flesh, the clearer our spiritual hearing becomes—allowing us to discern the Lord’s voice. And His voice will never contradict His Word.
Discernment begins with ourselves (our self) Learn to identify the “voice,” of your flesh and begin to oppose it. Give it no quarter, for the flesh will not give your spirit any. It is it’s mortal enemy. Mortal being the operative word, for its time is short and it knows it. That’s why it wants to “eat, drink and be merry.” Crucify the voice of the flesh, take every thought captive and you will hear the voice of the Lord, speaking through your spirit all the more clearly.
The proof of our life in Christ , our resurrection from the dead, our authentic faith, is not found in a large house, a $2000 suit or a prosperous life in this world. These things prove nothing in the spiritual. The proof of our faith is how we react to carrying our cross. In the midst of death to ourselves, does the love of Jesus pour forth? Do we minister to others when we ourselves are in the midst of trial and testings? When you are crushed, does oil flow from your brokenness?
The cross does not lie. It exposes the true nature of our inner man. There is no room for hypocrisy on the cross, what the actor hides, the cross reveals. The men and women of the cross are self evident. They are sacrificial. The men and women of the cross are unmistakable, no matter what their church or denominational background is. They are the called-out ones, ever seeking to go deeper in the Lord. They do not chase after the latest trends in the church, nor do they crave ear tickling words from polished religious salesmen.
Let me encourage you saint. I know the narrow path from Calvary to the throne is often lonely. But take heart- every true saint who came before you has walked the same road. If you are blessed, you will find a few kindred souls along the way and you will strengthen one another. Religion indulges the flesh, but relationship with Christ calls us to die-to self, to pride, to the world. And in that dying, Christ rises. His light breaks forth from within us, shining like a mighty beacon into a world that is lost in darkness.Hold fast, for the cross is our testimony, and the resurrection is our hope.
The beginning of the vision was a loud booming voice calling all Christians to awake , “Awake you sleepy Christians.” “Who will ascend Gods Holy Hill? Those with a pure heart and clean hands.”Then I saw thousands of baby turtles heading from the dunes towards the sea. Darkness was falling and there was a full moon that illuminated the broad beach. Before most of the turtles could cross the beach and reach the safety of the water, they were attacked by screaming seagulls. The power of the air had come to attack them, seagulls by the hundreds making a horrendous shrieking noise as they feasted on their helpless prey.Then from the dunes came raccoons and critters of every kind to join in the frenzy and drag these hapless baby turtles away. Just when I thought the slaughter could not get worse, out from under the sand came ghost crabs which tore into the turtles and dragged them down into their holes in the sand to be devoured. As all of this was going on, I could see Scripture framing this whole scene. “Many are called but few are chosen,” “Broad is the road that leads to destruction, narrow is the path that leads to life.” A handful of the turtles made it to the water.
Then suddenly I am looking at a stadium. On its platform was a sword embedded in a rock. In the stadium were thousands and thousands of young people. Teenagers, young people in their 20s and 30s. Jesus walks onto the stage and goes to the rock and pulls out the sword and turns to address the crowd of young people. Below the stage was a line of older men and women, mature saints, standing and silently praying. Behind them, between them and the stage, were thousands of flags fluttering in the wind. Jesus addresses the crowd and challenges them to come down and take up their crosses and join the fight against the great tide of evil that has deluged the land. First they must come and be prayed for and then come towards Him to join Him. In order to do that they would have to pass through the sea of flags. Then I saw that there were words written upon upon every flag. I looked closer.
On hundred of them was the word lust. On hundreds more was hate. And then there was ambition, suicide, bitterness, un-forgiveness, rebellion, greed, materialism and on it went. The call is made to the crowd by Jesus. “Will you come forward and die to these things this day?” They respond to the call to arms and begin to move forward in obedience to the call with great trembling and weeping. They kneel and pray with the men of God and then get up and move past them and with pure hearts and clean hands. They make their way towards the flags that represents what they have just laid down, they pull up the flag and they break it over their knees and throw it to the ground. Freedom rings out into the night sky, the rejoicing rises up into heaven itself. The gates of hell begin to shake as Jesus receives the reward of His suffering and the young people rise up with one voice in adoration of their King.
The Word of God is full of distinctions. It distinguishes between right and wrong. It distinguishes between heaven and hell. There are saints and sinners and the list goes on. There is a troubling distinction between professors and false professors. What is a false professor? Someone who claims to be a Christian but is Christian in name only. Someone who has never actually been born again but would count themselves as “believers.” In James 2:19 James says “You believe there is one God? You do well, the devils also believe and tremble.” So obviously being a “believer,” does not necessarily equate to being born again.
The word “believe,” is “pisteuo,” in the Greek. It means “to have faith (in, upon, or with respect to, a person or thing), that is, credit; by implication to entrust (especially one’s spiritual well being to Christ): – believe (-r), commit (to trust), put in trust with.” Now obviously the devils do not put their trust in Christ. They believe in one God and have entirely rejected God. So you can believe in God and entirely reject Him. We need a better term than “believer,” for believers encompass many distinctions. Whitfield, for example famously accused the vast majority of the Church of England pastors as “knowing nothing of the new birth.” There was so much anger aroused by that statement that it got him banned from a majority of pulpits.
Ravenhill famously suggested that 93% of “professing Christians,” in America also knew nothing of the new birth. Tozer suggested that there were but a remnant among those who counted themselves as believers. Jesus says in Revelations ” I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.” (Rev 2:9) to which Matthew Henry observes ” God is greatly dishonoured when his name is made use of to promote and patronize the interests of Satan; and he has a high resentment of this blasphemy, and will take a just revenge on those who persist in it.”
When he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to be admired in all them that believe (because our testimony among you was believed) in that day………..that the name of our Lord Jesus Christ be glorified in you and you in Him.( 2 Thess 1:10-12) Our high calling brothers and sisters is to be a saint in whom Christ is glorified. He in us and us in Him. Let the world marvel at the manifestation of Jesus that is in His saints. In verse 11 Paul says “we pray always for you that our God would count you worthy of this calling.”
In Matt 10 :37-39 Jesus says he that loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he that takes not his cross, and follow after me, is not worthy of me. He that finds his life shall lose it: and he that loses his life for my sake shall find it. These are the distinctions that the Lord makes. Those who love Him with their whole hearts, those who take up their crosses and follow Him and those who lose their lives for His sake, these are the ones who are His disciples. These are His saints in whom He is glorified and by whom He is glorified. That is our high calling brothers and sisters. Let us be found to glorify the Lord by our lives.
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (1 Thess 5:16) Imagine living according to this word every day, it would revolutionize your world. Let this year be the year, let this day be the day that we live entirely according to the word of God.
“For God did not appoint us to wrath.” (1 Thess 5:9) So much has been made of this statement and wrong doctrines have flowed from it. Context always explains the meaning. “For God did not appoint us to wrath but to obtain salvation though our Lord Jesus Christ who died for us.” You see what the opposite of wrath is in this context? Salvation. To be saved is to be safe from not being saved. It does not mean that we shall avoid persecution or tribulation. In fact in Chapter three of 1st Thessalonians Paul writes “no one should be shaken by these afflictions (what afflictions? those who killed their own prophets and have persecuted us-chapter 2 verse 15) Not only should we expect persecutions and afflictions, Paul states categorically “we are appointed to this.” Another word for appointed is “ordained.”
A Call To The Remnant 