When I was seventeen, my first child was born, Stephen. He lived for two days.
Two days—barely enough time to understand love,
but long enough to understand loss. “He is not going to make it.” “His lungs are not developed.” “It might be time to turn off the machine……but it’s your decision.”
Everything around me felt blurred, the world was suddenly condensed and it was pressing in on me, crushing my heart and spirit. “Do you want to hold him.” Inexplicably, and something that would torture me for many years……”No.” I did not want to hold my own dying heart, how utterly selfish.
On the day of the funeral, I sat in the back of the hearse,
a small white coffin resting on my knees.
It felt too light. Too still. Maybe just an empty box….. like my heart.
I was there but I was distant in my mind, none of it seemed real.
He was to be laid in the place reserved for stillborn children,
though he hadn’t been stillborn.
He had lived. He had tried, he had tried hard.
The driver took a corner faster than he meant to,
and the tiny body shifted inside the box.I could “feel,” him move.
That was the moment all the walls I had built
collapsed in a single breath.
I knew what was in the box.
The truth I had been keeping at arm’s length
pressed itself into me with a weight I simply could not carry.
For a long time I carried anger for that driver—
that unnamed man who broke the silence for me
before I was ready.
There are things we bury deep,
not because they are gone,
but because we cannot look at them, cannot handle the weight of it, but is still caries the same weight whether we look at it or not.
Years passed.
I came to the Lord.
Life moved on in the way life does—
slowly, quietly, with its own kind of insistence.
And then one ordinary day,
standing under the warm water of the shower,
the deep finally broke open.
Grief rose from the hidden places
like something long trapped beneath ice—
cold, vast, unstoppable.
My legs buckled.
I held the walls with both hands.
A lifetime was passing through me in moments, years
were flooding out of me, threatening to sweep me away.
My wife heard me and thought I was breaking apart.
Maybe I was.
But when it was over, I could breathe again.
The bitter waters that had filled that sealed chamber
were gone, emptied out.
In its place came something pure, living waters
from a pure crystal stream, unmistakably from Him.
The Lord leaves no room untouched.
Every locked door is His.
Every deep place is His.
He moves like a glacier—nothing stands in its way
slow, sure, reshaping everything in His path
until what was buried
finally meets the light. No chamber left untouched.
If you are carrying within you something hidden—
something buried away, unnamed, unknown to the world
know this brother, sister
it will not stay buried forever.
He will touch it.
He will open it.
And when He does,
what comes will be healing.
Unmistakable.
Beautiful in its own way.
Stephen, you are not forgotten…..but your father is forgiven.
Last year, in the midst of chemo, my house became unbearable. Nausea was a problem I never overcame for the several months of treatment and every smell made my stomach turn. I just had to be outside so I would take refuge on our deck—a south-facing suntrap where the fresh air seemed like heaven itself. Out there I could breathe again. Out there the warmth, the breeze, and the open sky were gifts. The Spirit of God would literally rest upon me. This was a place for me where sky and earth seemed to become one.
I told a friend I felt as though I were taking a Masterclass in Grace. Because the Spirit of God would rest on me out there, even as nausea raged through my body. I forced myself to walk a block each day, slow, steady, determined, and then I’d return to my lounger on the deck. Between me and the heavens were trees full of birds I had never noticed before. Dozens of tiny frenetic little guys. Great joy filled me as I watched their antics. How could I have not noticed these wee fellas before A thousand songs in the branches.
I was strangely alive.
I sat there for hours, looking up.
That was the lesson He pressed into me:
Lift up your eyes, Frank and see where your help comes from.
Even while chemo ravaged my body, grace flooded my spirit.
Behind my house is a field owned by a church. I have always loved that openness, the privacy, the flow of wildlife, the quiet beauty of it. During that season, I watched a BBC documentary on rewilding, taking a low-yield field, restoring native plants, planting indigenous trees, letting the land become what it was meant to be again. The transformation was stunning. Butterflies returned. Birds returned. Life returned.
Somehow I felt like that rewilded field. Early stages for sure. There are no fences in the fields God restores. He works in wide open spaces. There are no straight edges in nature, nothing to tell you where the old man-made boundaries once stood.
No manicured edges to remind you of the places trimmed by the hands of men. Only the quiet rise of something wild and free beginning to grow again.
That show stirred something deep in me. In the flush of my enthusiasm
I contacted the church.
“How about you rewild your field,” I suggested, with great enthusiasm. “It would save you lots of money, you would not have to mow it.” And “you would be helping the environment.” I was hoping to appeal to something, anything. He explained to me that the city wont let them grow the grass over a certain height.
I called the city, found grants, stirred possibilities, sent the information to the church…….and then, life and treatment and circumstances pulled the thread from my fingers, and the idea slipped away into the quiet. Like many great stirrings, it got swallowed up by circumstances that press in and with great tyranny, demand your attention.
A year and a half later, just last week, I walked through my back gate which leads to the field, which leads to a familiar path, the trail where so many prayers have risen like incense. Many of you have seen the prayer videos and the pictures I have taken along my narrow path. But this day I saw poles driven across the field, a line, a boundary, dividing the ground in half. Close to my house. Too close.
I told my wife, “Something is being built in the field”
We were dismayed at the thought of construction in our peaceful oasis in the back. Some parking lot perhaps that would be illuminated at night like a stadium?
Then the neighbor,the keeper of all neighborhood knowledge, you know the one (the guy who would complain to the church if they did not cut their grass in time) told me what was going on:
They are rewilding the field!!!
The aeration, the markings, the disturbance, it was preparation for wildflowers.
Boy Scouts were involved. A grant had been given.
The city approved the letting-go of their height rules..
Our field will very soon rise up and bloom.
Then I realized that the enthusiasm for my field, in the midst of my chemo with the Spirit of the Lord resting on me was Spirit breathed. And what He breathes upon springs to life……in it’s time.
I had forgotten, but the Lord had not.
A thought born in weakness, planted in sickness, had been carried by God until its season came.
Wildflowers were coming to my back door.
God had not forgotten.
A memory from early in my walk with the Lord returned to me.
I once lived near manicured neighborhoods, gardens shaped by tape-measures and string lines, flowers placed with military precision. Beautiful, yes… but controlled, tamed, measured. As I walked that neighborhood and surveyed these impressive gardens in these huge houses, the Holy Spirit whispered in my ear “look the other way.”
Across the street was a culvert beside an open field, and around that culvert grew thousands of wildflowers, flung by the wind, seeded by the unseen hand of God. No symmetry. No order. Only life, and that more abundantly.
And the Lord said to me then:
“Look, Frank. This is what I want for you.”
Not the regimented garden of man’s expectations, his denominatons, his preconceived notions…….
but the freedom of a wildflower field—
growing where His wind carries me,
rooted where His hand plants me.
Now, all these years later, and after chemo last year, after grace under the open sky, after the birds and the sunlight and the prayers in the field……it comes full circle.
The field behind my house is becoming what God once whispered into the soil of my soul.
A place of wildflowers.
A place of return.
A place of restoration.
And I know now:
I have been rewilded.
This is where I am.
Not in the place of always striving for perfection…
Not in the place of certainty.
But in the tender, trembling ground of becoming.
I am standing in the field between who I was
and who He is forming me to be.
The soil is soft.
My soul, undone.
My life, waiting like a seed beneath the surface —
buried, broken, but not forgotten.
In order to restore God has to reclaim. He has to undo the work of man. He has to carefully remove all of their marks and then the allows the ground to lie fallow. And then the wind begins to blow and the seed fall upon the prepared ground, good ground, ready to receive.
And when God restores, beauty returns.
Color returns.
Freeness returns.
The wildness of grace returns.
The butterflies come home.
Life begins to inhabit the field again.
When the Lord returns us to our true beginning…….
the place He dreamed for us before we were shaped by the world…..
something magnificent unfolds.
The complexity of life falls away.
The garden grows without our striving.
For in a rewilded field, the hand of man is no longer the gardener.
The Lord Himself tends the soul.
He sends the rain.
He calls forth the flowers.
He arranges the seasons.
He brings beauty from earth we thought was barren.
And now I can see it. He has been rewilding me all along. Slowly, surely, and my unawareness of it, up till now, only makes it all the more the Masters work.
He has taken the field of my life,
cut square by the expectations of organized religion,
shaped by the hands of others,
emptied by suffering,
and He is restoring it
to the original design He designed for me
before I ever took a breath. Now the calling is to us all, come off that road and walk through the gate into the open field that leads to the high mountain passes and wildflower alpine meadows. He is restoring His Church, He is rewilding it.
And what He does is marvelous.
What He does is holy.
What He does is beautiful to behold.
I am being rewilded — and the work of His hands is wonderful to behold.
“Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5)
“For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:4–5)
In nature, when water flows over sandstone, it slowly carves a channel. At first it is shallow, but as the water continues, the groove deepens, until it becomes a permanent path. When the rain returns, it always follows the same course.
The human mind works much the same way. When we experience pain in the body, for example an injury to the elbow, the signal travels from the point of pain along a neural pathway to the brain. The more often that signal fires, the more established that pathway becomes.
In the same way, when someone wounds us through word or deed, a kind of spiritual signal travels from the point of the injury to the soul. Over time, that pain forms an inner pathway, a reflex of hurt, fear, or anger that becomes easier to travel each time it is triggered.
And so, just as the sandstone is shaped by the flow of water, the soul becomes shaped by pain. It cuts deep grooves into the inner life, and our thoughts begin to flow along those old tracks without effort. We do not even choose it, it becomes instinct.
Yet there is a remarkable truth found even in the world of medicine.Surgeons sometimes use a method called mirroring, where a patient focuses their attention on the healthy limb instead of the injured one. The brain begins to believe that healing is occurring in the damaged area, and the pathways of pain are slowly rewritten.
In the same way, Jesus is our healthy limb. When we take our eyes off our wounds and fix them on Him, we begin to heal. As we behold Him, His forgiveness, His grace, His mercy, we begin to mirror Him. We start to think as He thinks, to love as He loves, and to forgive as He forgave.
And this healing does not simply restore us to our original condition. It lifts us higher, it transforms us. For we are not merely conquerors over pain and sin, we are, as Scripture says, “more than conquerors through Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:37)
Paul writes, “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5) This is an invitation to transformation, to a spiritual rewiring of our inner life. The Holy Spirit begins to pour living water through us, and slowly, the current changes course.
Where fear once ruled, trust begins to flow. Where bitterness dug deep, forgiveness takes root. Where sorrow carved its mark, peace begins to move like a river.
Paul also says, “Bring every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” (2 Corinthians 10:5) Each time we catch a thought before it slides into the old groove, we redirect the flow toward Him. This is the renewal of the mind, the Spirit reshaping what pain once defined.
Each surrendered thought deepens a new channel of grace. Each moment of obedience erodes the old pathways of pain. Soon the soul begins to flow naturally toward Christ. The old grooves may still be visible, but they no longer control the current.
Ask yourself: What grooves in my mind were carved by pain or fear?
Do I still let my thoughts run down those channels?
Or am I letting the Spirit redirect the flow toward peace, mercy, and faith?
You know, tomorrow is Pentecost (I wrote this a few weeks ago) And like many sacred things in the church, we have made a symbol of it. We have reduced it to a ritual, a religious observance marked by a date on the calendar. Pentecost, like Christmas or Easter, has become a ceremony. But, brothers and sisters, let me tell you plainly, that is not what it was meant to be.
Pentecost was not a celebration of a day. It was the arrival of a Person. The Holy Spirit descended like fire from heaven. As the Word declares, “Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:3–4, NKJV).
That moment was not meant to be memorialized once a year, it was meant to revolutionize every day. One encounter with the baptism of the Holy Spirit transforms a life utterly. It sets the heart ablaze and loosens the tongue with boldness. It becomes the source of power that causes the devil to flee. It strengthens our feet for the narrow way, “Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it” (Matthew 7:14, NKJV).
The Spirit enables us to pass through valleys, to climb spiritual mountains, to face the enemy of our souls. Not with trembling but with power. For “greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world” (1 John 4:4, NKJV). Pentecost is not a date, it is a way of living, it is heaven’s breath within us, propelling us forward in divine strength.
Jesus Himself declared, “I came to send fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled” (Luke 12:49, NKJV). And John the Baptist testified of Christ, saying, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Luke 3:16, NKJV). This fire, I believe, was taken from the coals of the heavenly altar, the very presence of God, and placed upon frail men.
And what happened? Those few, filled with that fire, “turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6, NKJV). They did not wait for a Sunday. They did not look to feast days. They carried Pentecost in their bones, in their breath, and in their speech. They were pierced by power and spoke so that “when they heard this, they were cut to the heart” (Acts 2:37, NKJV).
You must be born again. You must be baptized in the Holy Spirit. You must have the fire of God within. Without Him, Christianity becomes religion, an empty shell. But with Him, it becomes life and that more abundantly (John 10:10, NKJV).
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.
There may be real submission to the will of God while we can’t help wishing things were otherwise. God does not ask us to feel that everything is for the best, but He does ask us to believe it (Andrew Bonar)
This is a deep truth. It is learned in the deepest valleys and the sorest of trials and loss. It may be well with our souls, as the beautiful old hymn goes, but our hearts can be broken. It is in the midst of that brokenness, that pain, that loss, that we draw near to God and He draws near to us. A broken and a contrite heart O God you will not despise (Psalm 51:17) Suffering produces endurance which produces character and hope (Rom 5:3-5) Blessed is the one who remains steadfast under trial ( James 1:2 ) The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit ( Psalm 34:18 )
We are to be rewarded, not only for work done, but for burdens borne, and I am sure that the brightest rewards will be for those who have borne their burdens without murmuring (Andrew Bonar ) A thankful heart in the face of great trial, is the ultimate in believing our God, in trusting Him, it is the very essence of faith. It causes that old liar, the devil, to shut his mouth and his accusations against the most high God that His people only love them because of favorable circumstances. It is out of darkness, that God Himself has commanded light to shine forth. And that light is the very essence of glory and love. It is a tangible force that heals and restores and draws us very near to our Lord and our God.
Finding our place within the bigger picture is about knowing the one whose painting the landscape. It’s about being content with being just one stroke from the Masters brush, but knowing that this one stroke causes us to be a vital part of the whole. To be amazed just to have a seat at the table, or to be a brushstroke on the canvas or a single thread in the tapestry is to have a peace that surpasses understanding. Finding our rightful place within the Kingdom is the journey and we discover that the journey itself is the purpose. The destination is simply the veil drawn back. And suddenly we shall see as we are seen and know as we are known. Jesus is the King, He is the Kingdom, He is the journey and He is our final destination.
I awoke this morning (05/17/2024) from a dream about exalting the name of Jesus and I had this line in my spirit “perfect in all your broken pieces,” which prompted the writing of this poem………….
Made perfect in Christ
Perfect in all your broken pieces Perfect in the Blood of Christ alone His perfect love it never ceases As He draws you before His triumphant throne
Jesus, Jesus how I love you so I know you'll never let me go Beneath thy wing I ever stand Safe and secure in the palm of your hand
I'm healed by the Blood that never ceases I'm healed as I wade amidst it's flow And my cry to the heavens surely reaches It cleanses me whiter than the purest snow
I'm perfected by Christ my one Redeemer The one who died for you and for me I'm healed and made whole as I go ever deeper Deeper in Him shall set me free
His perfect love cries out in the darkness It cries out to you right where you are Conquering all sin and death and sadness He is so near who once was so far.
Sometimes life can be just too much and it threatens to overwhelm us and drown us beneath the waves of afflictions and trials. Many times in my own Christian walk I have fallen to my knees and cried out to my Father in heaven. And He heard me and He “knows.” And just knowing that He hears and knows begins to lift our heads above the waters. Sometimes we are called to walk upon the waters, other times He takes us in the palm of His hand and lifts us above the fray, lest we lose our very minds.
He will not let us go under. He lifts us up to higher ground. The Lord intercedes for us before the throne. The Holy Spirit strengthens us and enables us to run and not grow weary, to walk and not faint. To rise up on wings like eagles! Glorifying God and praising Him and testifying of Him gives us strength and promotes in us joy and that joy is our very strength. We have joy where there should be no joy. We have peace when all around us is in turmoil. We love even when we are hated. We stand immovable upon the Rock that is higher than us. When life makes our head hang low, then He calls us to look up. Look up into the heavens from where our help comes from.
In all of these things we have choices. We choose to worship Him, not because we somehow are trying to manipulate the Lord, but rather from a deep wellspring of love. From out of the depths of this love we cry unto God with thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is a mark of the saint. A heart that is full of thanksgiving is a heart that has encountered the presence of God and in that encounter peered into the depths of Calvary. And the vision that we see infuses itself into our spiritual DNA. The “knowledge,’ of Calvary informs every part of who we are. Without this “knowledge,” we can only be, at best, two dimensional. The head knowledge of Calvary can only promote the soulish elements of religion. Yet to encounter Calvary is to “know.” And it is from this “knowing,” that our hearts are primed.
Trouble came knocking at my door And a voice inside said don't let it in I opened it And it knocked me to the floor I got backup on my feet And it knocked me down once more
Chorus Jesus pick me up so I can stand again Jesus pick me up, I so dearly need you friend You are my Lord of Lords and King of Kings The man of many sorrows If you do not pick me up today Then there will be no tomorrows
I came to a bridge over troubled waters But the bridge was swept away I went down into the waters And in the darkness I heard Him say I will be with you as you pass on through And suddenly the waters withdrew
Then I came upon a mountain high To scale it I would surely die I asked the Lord to remove this thing So that I could rejoice and praise my King No My son, ask of me to give you power To climb every mountain and to scale every tower
Bridge
I'll be with you as you pass on through I'll be with you in all that you do.
Trouble came knocking at my door And a voice inside said don't let it in I opened it And it knocked me to the floor I got backup on my feet And it knocked me down once more
Chorus Jesus pick me up so I can stand again Jesus pick me up, I so dearly need you friend You are my Lord of Lords and King of Kings The man of many sorrows If you do not pick me up today Then there will be no tomorrows
I came to a bridge over troubled waters But the bridge was swept away I went down into the waters And in the darkness I heard Him say I will be with you as you pass on through And suddenly the waters withdrew
Then I came upon a mountain high To scale it I would surely die I asked the Lord to remove this thing So that I could rejoice and praise my King No My son, ask of me to give you power To climb every mountain and to scale every tower
Bridge
I'll be with you as you pass on through I'll be with you in all that you do.
This is the word from the Lord that led to my last poem. This video is an update of my current sitution, may the Lord be praised through all of it………………..bro Frank
“And in the silence there is peace. It dwells above the noise and the din. Above the begging and the pleadings and the raging storm, there sleeps Jesus in the boat. Shall we too arrive at the place where sleep is not dependent upon the storm being stilled? Where trust lies down among the lions. Where perfect love casts out all fear. This is the Kingdom of God, this is the rarified air of heaven. This is the shaft of light that pierces the darkness and guides us home.”
My cousin, who is just a few years younger than myself, has stage 4 prostrate cancer which has spread to his spine and to his liver. This was his initial diagnosis. Due to Covid and a general health crisis in Britain, he was not regularly tested. His father died of the same disease at roughly the same age. He lives in Wales and it is fairly rural. I have been to the small village of Lougher many years ago when I helped moderate a revival conference at Moriah chapel, the birth place of the Welsh revival. My cousin is an engineer and has worked all over the world and traveled extensively, indeed he has visited us in Kansas on many occasions. I have always really liked my cousin, he has many admiral qualities but we did butt heads on many occasions, both being younger and headstrong. Age and life and sanctification has knocked many of the rough edges off of us.
And so I found out that he had cancer when I was over in Scotland for my dads funeral back in March. I was deeply saddened by this report and upon my return to Kansas, I contacted him and we began to zoom on a weekly basis. The first thing that impressed me was his calm demeanor. He bore no ill will towards a system that had let him down. Nor was he angry at a particular Dr who specifically let him down. This is all the more impressive when you consider, that his dad, my uncle ( a wonderful saint) had been misdiagnosed and not properly treated at the beginning of his own battle with cancer that would lead to his demise. And so, his quiet demeanor and softening of heart and spirit is very heart warming and encouraging to me. He has a chair where he spends much time meditating on the Word of God and getting quiet before Him.
I want you to understand something. Such is the state of the health service in Britain in general and Wales in particular, my cousin has never seen an oncologist. He has only ever spoken to her over the phone. They told him that they were “going to throw everything at it,” and so begun a three month regimen of chemo and radiation treatment as well as hormone therapy and other drugs. The nurses were amazed that he never lost his hair and that he almost no side-effects at all. And so the course came to an end at the end of August and it took a few weeks for them to arrange images and blood-work. It takes a further month for him to get a call from the oncologist only to be told that his images had not been read by anyone ( she apologized) but that based on her own expertise she was somewhat pleased at what she saw but she would call again two weeks later and this time she would definitely have the radiologists reports.
Now you would think that all of this waiting would be agonizing, especially when you have returning pain in your lower spine. Yet, again, my cousins attitude was exemplary. Our sessions together are always good and our prayer time at the end of these sessions are always deep and meaningful to me. And so, just a couple of weeks ago, the day arrived that the oncologist was to call. The window for the call was either between 8am and 1pm, or 1pm and 5pm. So, you basically had to sit by the phone all day waiting on the call. And as he is want, he was sitting in his easy chair reading the Word. And as he is going through the psalms, this day he had arrived at psalm 20. His method was to read the psalm and mediate on it all day and so this is what he was doing.
“May the Lord answer you in day of trouble………………May the name of the God of Jacob defend you…………May He send you help from His sanctuary…………And strengthen you out of Zion……….May He grant you according to your hearts desire and fulfill all your purposes…………..Now I know that the Lord saves His anointed……… May the Lord fulfill all of your petitions……….He will hear from His holy heaven with the saving strength of His right hand…………….some trust in chariots and some in horses but we shall remember the name of the Lord our God…..they have bowed down and fallen but we have risen and stand upright……save Lord! May the King answer us when we call.”
As my cousin was taken up with these thoughts the hours got away from him. He looked at the clock and realized it was almost noon. No calls. He glanced at his phone and to his great surprise there was two “missed calls.” It was from the oncologist. Now, my cousin is in an engineer. There is always a purpose in what he does and does not do. He looked at his phone to see how it was possible that he could miss not just one, but two very important calls. Was the volume off? No. As he looked further he realized that his phone was set to “do not disturb.” Now, he had not set the phone to do not disturb. In fact he had never set that phone or any other other phone to “do not disturb. He said he would not even know how to do it and of course, given the highly important nature of the call that day, even if he did know how to do it he would not have.
Suddenly the Lord impressed upon him that He did not want my cousin to be disturbed by the oncologist. And that he was not to be disturbed, rather he was to listen to Him and what He was saying to him through the word. Brothers and sisters, I have no doubt at all that it was the hand of the Lord Himself or some angel that pressed the do not disturb button on my cousins phone. There comes a time in all of our lives when there is no help from anyone. No help from the system, from the medical field or any other avenue. Whereby only the hand of the Lord Himself can save us and keep us and guard us from all alarm. We are not to be disturbed but rather we are to trust in the Lord and the power of His might. Whether we live or whether we die we are to stand fast in Him and He is to be glorified. All of this flows from trust. Be encouraged today brothers and sisters….do not be disturbed and do not allow the world to disturb you. In this world we shall have troubles, but take heart! Jesus has overcome the world.
It’s an erroneous idea that justification is an imparted robe of righteousness put over a dirty, filthy fellow who terribly needs a bath and is filled with cooties and the accumulation of the dirt of a lifetime, who stands boldly in God Almighty’s holy heaven, among seraphim and cherubim and archangels and the spirits of just men made perfect, and blithely and flippantly says “I belong in hell. I’m a filthy man, but what are you going to do about it? I have on me the robe of Christ’s righteousness and that’s enough.
God only saves sinners who know they are sinners. He saves only sinners who admit they are sinners, but He saves sinners and turns them from being sinners to being good men and full of the Holy Spirit. When we teach anything else, we are teaching heresy. John Newton was a Puritan and would have been horrified if he heard the doctrines we are hearing now. (A.W.Tozer The dangers of a shallow Faith pg 73-74)
Can you hear what Tozer is saying? He is identifying a teaching that has become a common doctrine taught across the board in Christendom. At best it’s a shallow faith, at worse it is no faith at all. A faith that is without transformation. A faith that seeks to hide from the fact that true faith transforms the bad man to a son of the Living God. A man who formally walked in darkness but who now walks in the light. A man whose righteousness in Christ and Christ in him reflects upon the unrighteousness of the world. A city set on a hill for all to see. He washes us by His very own Blood. And we are washed whiter than snow. We are indeed regenerated and only the regenerated can be sanctified.
In a desperate desire to please the world and not offend them, we have taken the stigma of sin from them. We have done the world no favors. Those of the shallow faith, born out of fear, say to the world that the Christian and them are both the same, the only difference being is that we have a technicality. That is a lie and, and Tozer calls it heresy. A cross-less Christianity has risen up in the ranks of Christendom and at the very same pace as it has risen up, the world has sunk down deeper into the mire of darkness and self delusion. A Christ-less Christianity, a whole generation of those who desire no Lord but only a Savior, is falling into the same dark pit of hell as the world is.
Thank the Lord for His own chosen generation. His own Royal Priesthood. His own, specific purchased people. A people intentionally called out of darkness, not to dwell there any more but to dwell in His marvelous light. A people who have indeed been regenerated, indeed been washed in the Blood of the Lamb, a people who fear God and not man. A people who have been empowered by the Holy Spirit to be a witness to the world and if need be, using the same word, a martyr for the cause of Christ. This is the true history of the Church. A people not ashamed of the Gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus and not just the parts that are convenient to our own well being. Tell the world all day long that God loves them and the world will either like you or ignore you. Quote them the mostly unquoted portion of John chapter 3 and they will hate you.
Joh 3:18 He that believes in him is not condemned: but he that does not believe in Him is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.
Oh the beauty of His manifested presence
It is all the world to me
Not to be held captive by this life
but rather unrestrained by it, and set free
My eyes have seen the King
And they now belong to Him
My heart within me burns
Brighter than a thousand suns
The celestial road opens up before me
And down this road we walk as one
And this is the path I want to be found on
Until my time on earth is done
My heart beats to the rhythm of His
And everything falls into place
I see Him high and lifted up
The beauty of His holiness, the splendor of His grace
Draw me nearer blessed Lord
that I might mortify
That I might cast upon thy cross
what thou has crucified
And in the dying comes the rising
As I lift my hands on high
And your Spirit falls upon me Lord
That I might testify.
I am undone in the presence of thy throne
Your glory has stripped me all away
All that is left is what you've redeemed
And through me your impenetrable light has streamed
Draw me closer, closer, closer every day
Every week, every month, the passing years
Closer with my heart and with my life
With my thoughts and with my prayers and with my tears.
Many many years ago I had a vision. I was high above the country of America and I could see from east to west. The vast majority were settled in the east and would never dream of venturing into the great unknown. To travel westwards was to risk everything. Yet, slowly but surely some began to leave everything that was established to strike out into the unknown. They banded together for safety and gave up their homes and establishments, their careers and positions for a dream. Many would not make it but all of them were driven forward by forces perhaps they did not fully understand. They were pilgrims, sojourners, travelers.
The first part of their journey was mapped, but soon enough they only had the general heading. They forded rivers and scaled mountains and crossed vast seas of prairie lands that stretched out into infinity. There was storms and baking heat. There was cold and there was snow but still they pushed on. They were often attacked and would circle the wagons. They dealt with wolves and bears and coyotes. Snakes were everywhere but still they traveled on. None of this was the actual westward migration in America, it was the remnant saints I was seeing. They were leaving everything that was established behind and pushing on for a continuing city. They had no place on this earth to call their own. No kingdom to call their own, no town to call their own, no State to call their own. They were travelers.
Every mountain was a part of their sanctification. Every river, every wild animal, every obstacle was the same. In the blazing plains they had to trust for water. In the violent storms and tornado’s, they had to trust that God would keep them. They had a pioneer spirit that was not all that common to man. Yet just like the westward American push, they all come to the Pacific. Will they set up shop there? Surely we can go no further than this? And yet in my vision I saw a boat draw near to the shore. Jesus was the captain and He shouted to those gathered on the shore to come on board. The people on shore had no idea what was beyond the horizon. Surely they had suffered enough just to get here, and now, there was the Lord urging them on, urging them onto the boat to continue the journey, and for most it was simply too much.
So as the few got onto the boat, the rest began to lay down foundations for communities. After a while the boat stopped coming and they could no longer hear the voice of Jesus urging them on. The temporary wagons that had brought them so far were broken down and used in the establishment of fine new buildings. With the journey over and the permanent structures erected, the people grew weak. They no longer had the journey to keep them strong. This place they had established for themselves had very fine weather and they did not have to deal with storms, they grew weaker still and they had no vision. Their reliance upon the Lord waned as His voice became a distant memory, an echo in the wind. They became so weak they withdrew from the coast. Little by little, piece by piece they began to fall back to where they had come from. The things that they had overcame began to overcome them. And in a period of time, they found themselves right back where they came from. Everything they had gained on the journey they had lost. Without the vision of the journey, the people perished.
This was my vision. It was as dramatic as it was scary. The journey is everything. We have no place on this earth to call our own. If we are not moving forwards then we are falling backwards. There is no treading water in the Kingdom of God, there is only the journey that ever lies before us. God has no pleasure in those who fall back. The journey is your Christianity. It is your walk. It is your relationship with Jesus. It does not matter how old you are or how young you are, we are all called to journey down the path that God Himself has forged for us. We do not get to see what is around the next bend, we simply trust. We are called to live each day at a time and not to be anxious for the things the gentiles are anxious for. Sufficient for the day are our troubles and it is Jesus who gives us the strength to get through this day, tomorrow is never guaranteed. Our strength is derived from how we interact with Jesus as we meet the obstacle.
Do not worry about tomorrow brothers and sisters. Keep on the journey, keep on going, keep on following Jesus. Ignore charlatans and false prophets you meet along the way, you will recognize them for they will be selling you something. Do not put your roots down into anything other than the Kingdom of God. One thing about a wagon, its always ready to roll the next day. We must always be ready to roll on, for this is our calling, we journey through this world and the Holy Spirit is our guide. He alone knows the way forward. He alone can lead us and guide us home. Let us never gather moss brothers and sisters in our spiritual homeward journey. It might be rough. It might be tough, but I can guarantee you that it will never be boring. One season there shall be great mountain ranges and another season mighty rivers. There will be the dead of winter and also the magnificent spring flowers. The heat of the summer will feel fine for a while but the Fall colors and coolness will refresh your soul.
The seasons of life will be the mile markers of our journey, and as we grow older and are less physically fit, we grow stronger in the Lord and the power of His might. The seasons will pass with ever increasing speed as we journey onwards. As our time here on earth draws to its close then we shall begin to see glimpses of the journeys end. The end of everything in this world is truly the beginning of everything in the next. He gives us eyes to see such things. Imagine beginning to arrive at the end of your journey. A journey that has perhaps lasted multiple decades. A grand adventure that no power in the heavens or earth could ever persuade you to give up. The perishing outer man is being replaced by a spirit that is renewed daily. Piece by piece we are decreasing but step by step He is increasing. Our grand obsession, Jesus, is all that we want. He is all that we need. We look back down the journey with all its many milestones and we can see how, not one single time, He has let us down. Oh brothers and sisters, let us finish strong the journey that is set before us.
Col 1:6 Which has come to you, as it is in all the world; and bringing forth fruit, as it is also in you, since the day you heard of it, and knew the grace of God in truth:
What had come to them? Faith. Since the day they trusted in God they abounded in grace and in truth and in love. Note that they did not just “hear,” the good news. Many hear the good news. They chose to trust in it and in that moment they “knew,” the grace of God. Hearing and knowing are entirely different. It’s in the “knowing,” that we are transformed. It’s in the knowing that that we experience the manifest reality of His grace. This grace, this unmerited favor that we “know,” we have, changes us from the inside out. So, what is this mysterious “knowing,’ that does not flow from the head but rather from the heart? It is the presence of God that has taken up residence in our hearts and from that place all good things flow.
Imagine a stone thrown into a pond. Concentric circles emanate out until every part of that pond is touched by them. Small unstoppable waves that touch every part of who we are. There is a still, small voice that dwells within the heart of the truly born again that speaks to us and we know “its,’ voice. It is the voice of the Master who has taken up residence in us by the power of the Holy Spirit. He speaks to every part of who we are. He leaves no stone un-turned for He bought us with a price. He purchased us and we now belong to Him.
In Matthew 1:25 we are told that Joseph did not “know,” Mary until after Jesus was born. This prolonged primary verb is to know intimately. The text gives us the context. There is of course a more intimate knowledge to be had with the Lord than there could ever be with a spouse. One is carnal in nature and creates a oneness in the flesh and soul. The other is the combining of two spirits, our spirit with Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit. This is the source of everything. It is from this place that we are devastated if we sin. It is from this place that “know,” His grace and His love and His mercy and His forgiveness. From here comes all good desires. The desire to follow Him. The desire to want to come into His manifest presence. From this place He opens up a door that leads to heavens throne room where we can come before the throne of God and cry “Abba.”
He picks us up, He wipes our tears
His perfect love casts out all fears
He strengthens us when we are weak
He gives us hope when all seems bleak
He leads the way when I am lost,
He lifts my eyes up to the cross
He fills my heart when I'm depleted,
He gives me vision to see Him seated.
High above and on His throne
He tells me that I'm not alone
So take me to Your highest mountains
And fill me from inexhaustible fountains
Every mountain high and every wide river
Every sin and temptation, from them deliver
Draw me into your presence sublime
Don't move the mountain, give me strength to climb
2Co 2:14 Now thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place.
Can you say, with all honesty brothers and sisters, that through you, the fragrance of Jesus is made known every where you go? By His presence in you and your presence in, say, your marriage, you “diffuse the fragrance,” of Christ? That phrase means to make manifest. Is it manifestly evident that you carry the presence of Jesus? How about at work? When you are driving? Interacting with your family? Interacting with people who do not like you? Is there still a fragrance that emanates from you? Are you like a flower? Beautiful to behold, something that others want to draw near to them and just breath you in?
Atmosphere, it is something we can control. We can control it because God has given us everything we need for He always leads us in conquest. He leads. He goes before. Shall we step back or shall we get out in front of Him? When we are wronged do we rush forward with our carnal weapons of warfare and then pat ourselves on the back because it was “self defense.” The clue is right in the words. We are defending “self,” therefore we add to the blackness of the atmosphere rather than allow the light to shine forth from our innermost being which causes the darkness to flee. The flesh demands to be defended and when it is the atmosphere grows darker. We must infuse into the situation the rarified air of heaven.
In one year, the average mature tree will absorb 48 pounds of carbon dioxide and in exchange release oxygen. We saints are the spiritual “trees,” in this world. We are uniquely designed to triumph over the toxic nature of humanity and the world in which we live. The one vital difference is this, what the trees do by nature and design, we must do by choice. We can exhale out both spiritual oxygen or more hellish carbon dioxide. In every single occasion it is a choice. The power resides within us. Shall we follow God? If we do then He always leads us to victory. If we follow the dictates of our own flesh then we shall find ourselves wallowing in the toxic nature of defeat.
In every stage of our lives there are seasons
And almost always we never know the reasons
We live, we love, we cherish, we lose
And the sudden losses leaves us with very little clues
We look to the sky and we wonder why
One of our loved ones they had to die
Yet for the most part there is no rhyme nor reason
There is just the changing of the season
In the hand of the Lord there lies it all
The creation of man and then the fall
Sin and rebellion and death floods in
And Eden vanishes and loss begins
There is a time to laugh and then to cry
A time to live and then to die
A time to gain and a time of loss
A time to refine away the dross
We are called to walk through fire and flood
And sometimes called to shed our blood
We are also called to laugh and sing
And fall to our knees before our King
No matter the loss there is always a reason
For the fire , the flood and the painful season
For the joy, for the laughter for the passion and pain
Know this dear saint, nothing is in vain
In Mark 11 Jesus speaks to His disciples and gives them precise instructions. They are to go into the village and as soon as they get there they will find a horse, a colt to be precise, tied up. Untie it and take it. Now, it was not that long ago in America that if you stole a horse you could be hung, it was a capital offense. Yet here was Jesus telling His disciples to just take it. I don’t know about you, but as someone who has dealt with lots of fears and anxiety over the years, and overthinking things, my mind would have been racing as I walked towards the village. “What if there is no horse there?” Now I would actually be hoping there would be no horse there, then I would not have to deal with it. I turn the corner and there is the horse. Ooh no, now I have to deal with it. Anxiousness and thoughts begin to assault my very soul like a swarm of angry bees intent on stinging me and doing the most harm that they could.
Of course its all a part of my unbelief. I don’t really trust God who has spoken to me. I am falling back on my flesh and my flesh is not my spirits friend in fact it is its sworn enemy. It counters the words of the Lord. It wants to rule over me and protect itself. It wars against my spirit and If I am not careful it will wear me down and make me sick. The flesh wont mind that, as long as its in charge. It would rather be dying than controlled. What my flesh does not know nor cares about is that the Lord has already spoken to the horse’s owner either in person or in a dream or a vision. The way of the Lord is already paved. We just have to walk down it and follow His instructions. Whose report will I believe? Will I walk according to what the Spirit says or will I walk according to what the flesh says? We know that in Romans 8 we are told that there is therefore now no condemnation to those who walk according to the Spirit and not according to the flesh.
Therefore we must know, we who have the Spirit of the Lord, that any condemnation, any doubts and any fears come not from the Lord but from the flesh, the domain of sin. We must pursue and keep our eyes upon Jesus and trust Him and trust His word and the work of the Holy Spirit in us. Torment is not from the Lord. Anxiety is not from the Lord. Fears in all its many forms are not from the Lord ( not talking about the fear of the Lord which is the beginning of wisdom) We have an enemy and it will lie to us. We have our Lord Jesus and He will never lie to us. Peace comes in knowing that. Peace comes in obedience. Peace comes when we reject what the flesh that is screaming in our ear and listen to the still small voice. The Word of God draws us near to the Lord. It points us towards the truth. Let us determine in our hearts to just take the horse already!
A Call To The Remnant 