I stood in the town square, and saw many people just like myself clutching their heart shaped box. In my hand was a box identical to the one everyone else was holding. I gazed upon my box, and was intoxicated by its charm. It smelled like sweet perfume, and had an endearing, smooth surface that seemed to glow even in the daylight. I loved that box, and strangely enough, it seemed to love me, also. Sometimes, I could literally hear it calling out to me, cooing me to do this and that. That box was as much a part of me as my skin, and I needed it’s presence like the air I breath. We accompanied each other like new lovers, and when we were together, what fun we had! It was as if the world around us didn’t exist. The only thing I cared about was that box. I met others who shared affection for their boxes, and their affections for their own boxes served as affirmation to me that our love was true. I learned early on to not make company with anyone who would cause me to compromise my adoration for my box. After all, it was mine, and it possessed the power to make me whole. I knew somehow, it was that box that would assure everything would be ok. One day, while walking with my box hand in hand, someone said to me, “Within that box is your very soul.” This only seemed to vindicate me to love my box more earnestly. I always felt as if it were a part of me, but now I knew it contained a critical part of my humanity, and it was the part that gives me purpose, direction, and meaning. I knew then, that to lose this box would be to lose my very life.
One day, I passed a man who looked very sad, and his box was bright blue, but seemed to still shine with great vitality. I asked him, “sir, why are you so sad?” He glumly looked up at me and said, “I’ve lost my box. I gave it a girl I was sure would make my dreams come true, after all, the box told me to… but then she ran off with it, instead.” “Alas, good sir!” I said, “Is this not your box?” “Oh yes, yes it is.” Said the man, but I’m afraid this box won’t help me anymore.” Seizing the opportune moment to perhaps double my pleasure, I asked if I could take it. The man glared at me, and his eyes seemed to burn red. “Take my box?” He said calmly, and with in full restraint. I saw his box glowing purple and red. Immediately, his attention was led elsewhere, to man on who was heralding the importance of immediate release from the box. “It controls you!” said the man, “You must escape, escape while you still have time!” I remember looking down at my box, and thinking about how silly of a thing it was for that man to say. I loved my box, but more importantly, I knew my box loved me.
One day, another man said something to me I wouldn’t soon forget. He said, “Have you ever wondered what was inside your box?” up until that point, I hadn’t even thought about it. It never crossed my mind that I was carrying around a container. It must have something inside. Whatever it was, it sure smelled sweet. I noticed the man carried a heart shaped box that seemed to have some sutures. Clearly, this man had seen what was inside his own box. My eyes grew wide, my mouth started to water. I couldn’t imagine there could be anything more wonderful than what was actually inside this glorious box! I asked him, “Please, tell me, sir. What’s inside?” The man looked down and replied solemnly. “Nothing, nothing at all but blackness, and darkness, and the worst kinds of evil you can imagine.” “It isn’t true; say it isn’t true… please!” The man persisted, and said to me, “There’s no hope for us. We must carry this box with us until it finally kills us. Enjoy it while you can, child, for soon, you will die.” I backed up quickly, to get as far away from this man as I could, and I bumped into a woman standing behind me. “Child, you must go quickly to Exodus. He will tell you the truth about your box.” I learned later that the woman’s name was Wisdom.
I went happily along to see Exodus. When I came to his house, I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Surely, this man wouldn’t lie to me,” I thought. “This man will tell the truth. He will tell me that I have nothing to fear, and that my box is to be kept safe.” My box seemed to echo these words as I spoke them. I moved swiftly to the place he sat. “Indeed,” Said Exodus, “I will take a look at your box, and see what’s inside. Exodus carefully examined my box, and concluded that my box was black as night. He looked up at me and sternly said, “Now listen to me, boy. What is inside this box will kill you if it’s not dealt with properly, because inside this box is a cancer so powerful, it will eternally consume it’s owner. There is only one solution.” Quite honestly, looking back, I didn’t hear him past his first sentence. I had had enough. I wasn’t interested in anything else Exodus had to say. I knew he was a liar. I knew my box would never hurt me. It only had the best intentions for me. As I stormed out of his house, I could hear a woman’s voice shout out, “your box is deceitful, and desperately wicked! Who can know it!”
After that day, something happened inside me. There was a stirring in me that seemed to desperately need to know what was inside of that box. The last thing I wanted to do was go back to Exodus, but I felt compelled. The next morning, on my way back to see Exodus, I met a man with a kind face that radiated with joy. His energy was enthusiastic, and after we exchanged pleasantries, He started right in: “I know you have been told there is a problem with your box. You want to know what’s inside. Well, I’m afraid it isn’t good, but fear not. I have the solution! Inside of this pot is a formula known as grace. If you would let me, I will pour this grace over your box, and all will be well. May I?” The person seemed to be frozen with a smile. I was skeptical, but he seemed so cheery. Clenching my box tightly, and leaning slightly on my heels in defensive posture, I asked one question… “Will this hurt my box?” I looked compassionately on my heart shaped box, and couldn’t bear the thought of parting with it… “Will it be any different than it is now?” I asked. His sweet smile seemed to fade, and in all seriousness, he said to me intensely, “We would never do anything to hurt you or your box. We only bring you healing, grace, love and peace. The maker of all things forbids we hurt anyone or anything.” All of those things he mentioned all sounded like good things, so I felt he could be trusted, but more importantly, it seemed as if my box trusted him as well. I wanted this business of bad things associated with my box to be over, so I relinquished my box, and he poured this sweet smelling liquid over my box. I watched the liquid run over the top, and down the sides onto the floor. I remember thinking it must have been a terrible waste, to lose this fluid, but none the less, he seemed to know what he was doing. Then he closed his eyes intently, and he asked me to repeat after him, and so I did. This is what I said, “Maker of all things, my box was sick, but your grace has made it well. Please keep it well until you return. Amen.” Then, with more enthusiasm than before, the man leaped for joy, and assured me that any issues my box had was now eradicated, and I didn’t need to fear for it anymore. He even handed me an official certificate of cleansing, which I grasped with full assurance. I was overjoyed! Finally, I was vindicated from what that sour, old Exodus had tried to tell me. “I didn’t think it would be so easy” I thought. Everything was the same, but still I knew things for us were as good as new! My box and I went out to celebrate this joyous occasion.
We passed by old Exodus’ house, and I thought maybe we should stop by for a visit. I wanted to show Exodus, who seemed to be an expert in the matter, my new heart. It was hardly new; it still had the same sweet aroma, the same vibrant glow. I never saw what was inside, I was only told, and I figured that this grace had cleansed my box as the nice man said, and surely Exodus could see that. I needed him to see that. I handed him my box for another examination. “It’s the same,” said Exodus, to my great displeasure. “Forgive me child,” he said as he gently sat me down. “bu… but… the grace, and the saying after, and everything… it’s ok now, isn’t it? Please, Exodus, tell me it’s ok.” I sobbed. I wanted to run away, but the compassion of Exodus kept me there. He picked me up, and said, “No, child, it’s not, but it will be ok, I promise.” Then a woman entered the room, and at first I did not recognize her, but later learned it was Wisdom. “Child,” she said, “your box is sick, and it will kill you, and it intends to,” My box turned purple and red, and I could start to feel the anger and resistance. She continued, “But there is a solution. The Maker of All Things must flood out the evil inside your box with grace.” After she said those things, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and my box went back to normal. Finally… it all made sense. I jumped to my feet, wiped the tears of my face and exclaimed with great excitement, THEN IT’S FINISHED! I DID THAT THIS MORNING! Oh, what a joyous day, Exodus and Wisdom, then I am free!” But wise, old, Exodus could plainly see it was not the case. “Your heart is the same, child, I can see it, plain as day, nothing has changed.” I couldn't argue. Exodus was right. My box was the same. The same sweet, wonderful box I had fallen in love with since the beginning. There was much struggle before this moment, and I know any attempt to detail how I came to this point would prove to be in vain, so let me sum up how I arrived to the next point with this: I was compelled by a force outside myself to believe him, so I reluctantly handed him my box. Wisdom smiled, and assured me I made the wise choice. Wisdom looked over at the work Exodus was about to do and said “blessed are those whose delight is in the law of the Lord.”
Exodus carefully took it, set it on the table, and pulled from behind the door a large hammer with the word “LAW” inscribed on it. He raised it up to strike, and I felt as if it were crashing down on my own head! SMASH SMASH! Went the hammer, and I howled in pain. It was more than I could bear, so I thought, until I noticed what the hammer had revealed. All the sweetness in the world, everything lovely, everything worthy, everything wonderful that existed in this bright world since the dawn of time was no match for the vile, dung heap of darkness that was inside my box. It made me sick, seeing that. It was so vile, I had forgotten all about the sweetness of my box, and was now faced only with the blackness it truly was. I could see, clearly now, all the things we had enjoyed together was only an integral part of this darkness. “How could I have been so deceived?!” I thought. But clearly, this box was more deceitful than evil. The shiny outside I had been in love with didn’t appeal to me anymore. I saw only darkness, and blackness. After the shock of it all, I wanted to die. I began to be sure that there was no hope, because I saw that the darkness inside my box remained. The hammer surely revealed it to me, but was useless in destroying it. Exodus was careful, he handed me my box and looked up at Wisdom. Wisdom turned to me, and with some sense of urgency, said to me “Exodus is finished; you know what is in your box. You must go quickly, child, to the fountain of grace at the edge of the hill. You will find comfort there.” I remember thinking how tragic it would be if someone were to only meet Exodus, but not Wisdom. I ran as fast as I could, fighting back the hopelessness. I could still hear my box call out to me, telling me I could fix this somehow. I was tempted to rest, to sulk, to reason with my box, but I could only hear the words of Wisdom echo in my head. By now the weight of this box was crushing me more every step I took. I was thankful to Exodus, but it seared me so. I found the fountain, and standing there, in front of it, was the man I had seen before. He looked at me and smiled. I was sobbing, and greatly exhausted, but I managed to get out in broken language, “you must find Exodus”
Standing in the center was the man I knew I needed to see. I was stopped in my tracks at the sight of Him. The sheer majesty of Him left me speechless. Who is that, I whispered to no one imparticular, “That’s the prodigal’s father,” said a nearby stranger, and with a smile he finished: “He is the Maker of all things. He will heal you. He is the one Wisdom pointed to, the one Exodus revealed your need for. He will help you.” I later learned that man’s name was Prophecy.
This enormous figure appeared to be a statue, but on his hands and feet were wounds that poured out this liquid. Above his head was an inscription that read, “Come, all of you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Reading those words left me limp, so I dropped to my knees, and I cried out with the little strength I had left, “what must I do!”
My face was on the ground, and right in front of me, covered by some moss, was another inscription that read, “Whoever desires to keep their box will lose it, but whoever loses their box for my sake, will keep it.” Outside of myself, as if it were a dream, I threw my box into the fountain. I can’t say for sure what gave me the strength, but into the fountain of grace went my box. I was finished with it, and content to die right there alone, but something contrary to what I had expected came over me. Instead of grief, great joy filled my heart. I was compelled to get up, run to the other side of the fountain and see what the maker of all things had done.
I thought maybe, just maybe, I would get my box back, but the thought of the possibility of getting my old box back seemed to kill my new found joy, but indeed, the fountain had something else for me. I fell on my face before the maker of all things, and in front of me read, “My presence I leave with you.” The maker of all things did indeed replace my box, but it was a new box. In front of me stood the hollow, shell of my box, not even recognizable. Inside of it, I could now clearly see. Inside was this grace I had thrown it into. My box came back to me something different, something sweeter, and something acceptable, and I knew it was only this grace inside that made it so. My box had to be broken, and cast into the fountain so it could be filled with this grace. It was over, I was healed, and I can now say with all certainty, for the first time, through Grace, I have life.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Hey...
How are you? I know it's been a while, but I wanted to tell you something that's been on my heart. Please don't be offended, or take this the wrong way, but I was wondering if you could maybe cool off a bit this Sunday. Before I say anything else, you need to know how much I love you, and how much you mean to me. You have been with me through some pretty rough times, and you've really pulled me through a lot, I'm the pastor here, and I've noticed it's getting difficult running things when you're hanging around. I DO NOT mean that in a bad way, at ALL, so please don't take it that way, it's just that... well, I think we have different ideas about how my church should be run. I don't really want to make people feel guilty. The last thing I want is people feeling bad. I know it's kind of your thing, and believe me, I KNOW you don't do it out of spite or anger. I know your intentions are good, but it's something I've never been comfortable with. I wouldn't have said anything, but the Petersons will be here this Sunday, and, well, I don't know any other way to put this... I'm afraid that if they meet you, they'll never come back. Honestly, I'm not trying to sound like a jerk, and I'm really sorry if this makes you angry... please don't be angry. I appreciate how gracious you've always been, and your so patient, so even if this is something I need to figure out on my own, or whatever, I just would really appreciate it if you could steer clear from church this Sunday.
I don't want to make this about where we disagree on things, but I just don't think making people feel guilty about stuff helps anything, especially when it comes to introducing them to our friend Jesus. People need to feel comfortable, and once they feel comfortable, we can talk to them more, and maybe after a few months, once they see we're not much different then them, they'll maybe start asking some questions. Hopefully some of those questions will be about Jesus, and hopefully they'll be at a point in their lives when they're ready to become a friend of Jesus, and THEN, if they have questions about the bible, or anything else "Christiany" we can come to you, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't make them feel guilty. You're scaring people away from church.
I know, I KNOW how you feel about sin, I understand that. I get it. Sin is bad, and people need to know it's bad, and I know that's a big part of what you do, but why do you think it's so important to hit them with that all the time? I mean, sometimes I have to ignore you because even I start to feel guilty when you're around, and I'm the pastor! People will learn that sin is bad, and I think once they see how much Jesus loves and cares for them, it will become easier for them to slowly, and at their own pace, walk away from sin.
I know, I know. There's a lot that could be said, but I don't want to debate you, I want to make sure we're still friends, I just think... well... just maybe for a week or two... you could let me run things, since, well... I am the pastor, and it's kind of my job. Seriously, though I still love you, and you are welcome here, but just give us a little space, ok Holy Spirit, just for at least the next few weeks, and then maybe we can talk about having you back.
Much love in Christ,
Pastor Bob
And He, when He comes will convict the world concerning sin, and righteousness, and judgment. John 16:8
I don't want to make this about where we disagree on things, but I just don't think making people feel guilty about stuff helps anything, especially when it comes to introducing them to our friend Jesus. People need to feel comfortable, and once they feel comfortable, we can talk to them more, and maybe after a few months, once they see we're not much different then them, they'll maybe start asking some questions. Hopefully some of those questions will be about Jesus, and hopefully they'll be at a point in their lives when they're ready to become a friend of Jesus, and THEN, if they have questions about the bible, or anything else "Christiany" we can come to you, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't make them feel guilty. You're scaring people away from church.
I know, I KNOW how you feel about sin, I understand that. I get it. Sin is bad, and people need to know it's bad, and I know that's a big part of what you do, but why do you think it's so important to hit them with that all the time? I mean, sometimes I have to ignore you because even I start to feel guilty when you're around, and I'm the pastor! People will learn that sin is bad, and I think once they see how much Jesus loves and cares for them, it will become easier for them to slowly, and at their own pace, walk away from sin.
I know, I know. There's a lot that could be said, but I don't want to debate you, I want to make sure we're still friends, I just think... well... just maybe for a week or two... you could let me run things, since, well... I am the pastor, and it's kind of my job. Seriously, though I still love you, and you are welcome here, but just give us a little space, ok Holy Spirit, just for at least the next few weeks, and then maybe we can talk about having you back.
Much love in Christ,
Pastor Bob
And He, when He comes will convict the world concerning sin, and righteousness, and judgment. John 16:8
Sunday, March 2, 2008
The Great Basin
I wrote this story several months ago. It explains how I feel about the modern church.
The recorded voice represents the radio ministries that eventually led me to Christ.
I looked over, and I saw busy-ness, chatter, and the like, and in the hand of every person was a smooth, round cup. Some were careful with them; others flung them about as if they held nothing. At the front of this place, and peering through the chaos and confusion was a kind, sincere man who in front of him, and under his control, was a great basin of water. The man looked straight at me, and gave me the impression that no person mattered to him as much as I did. I saw the great basin in front of him, and noticed his right shoulder was wet. I looked in my hand and noticed a smooth, round cup. At that moment, an incredible thirst came over me, and immediately I looked to the kind, sincere man. I thought surely this man would do all he could to quench my thirst, and became convinced, as it seemed to be so, that the specific job of this man was to quench the thirst of those in this building.
My throat was parched, so I rushed to the front. The madness of the people pushed me back and forth, and so I struggled to reach the kind man. The kind man looked at me, and with a genuine smile, put his hand on my shoulder and asked me if there was anything he could do for me. I was filled with excitement and anticipation as I stared down at the cool, fresh basin of water. I held my cup tight, and knelt before the man and said to him plainly, “sir, I am thirsty. I’m not sure how I came here, but I am grateful I have come because I see that in front of you is what I need. Would you be so kind, and fill my cup.” The man smiled widely, as if he loved nothing more than to do exactly that. The man said to me, “because you have said to me you are thirsty, and in desperate need of this water I have been entrusted with to give you, I will not hesitate to grant your request.” The man put his arms around me, and I felt a great love pour out of his heart. He then dipped his ladle in the basin, and was careful to not spill a single drop, but some still seeped away. He said, “Close your eyes, child, so you may receive this blessing.” I closed my eyes, but wanted the formalities to be over quickly because my thirst was so great.
My eyes shut, and everything went dark. Just before I burst with anticipation, I heard a swift movement, and then felt a splash against my face. I opened my eyes to see the sincere, kind man’s face radiate with excitement. My face was dripping wet, and this man looked at me as if he had faithfully fulfilled his office. He hugged me again, this time even tighter, and said to me “I love you so much, and any time you thirst, come to me, and I will take care of it.” I was shocked, but still so desperate for water, I lapped up what I could off my flesh and clothes, and saw in my cup just a few drops. Believing he had satisfied his duty to me, his attention quickly went to the next person, who stood in front of the kind man, closed his eyes, and jumping out of his skin said, “please… sir, splash me, pastor splash me!!!” The kind man reached his ladle into the basin, and splashed the water onto the face of this man.
Over time, this pastor grew weary, but his love for those who came to him did not wane. He urged everyone to bring people to him, so they may be satisfied, and many came. I watched this man dip his ladle into the basin many times, but didn’t see the water level drop one inch. This basin seemed to never run empty. The people relished the love of this man, and coveted the splashing on their face, but acted as if they knew no better. I left the room, somewhat discouraged, and still parched. I knew after my thirst had been quenched, I desperately wanted to love as that kind man had loved. I left the room, and came to another room with another basin. Above this basin was a sign that read, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.” I froze at this opportunity. It seemed too good to be true… next to the basin was a small speaker. The voice inside the speaker said, “don’t be afraid… drink! Dip your cup, fill it, open your mouth, and let the water run down your throat, and know this water will always satisfy. Although you may be tempted to trust something else, nothing but this water will satisfy.” When the voice finished, it started over and said the same thing. After some hesitation because of the simplicity, I dipped my cup and drank.
It was the coldest, freshest water I had ever tasted. Immediately, I saw everything more clearly. It was if a veil had opened my eyes, and I could see clearly for the first time. What a blessing that recording was to me! But even more so, what a blessing the cool, refreshing water was to me! I had a source of strength. I knew when I felt thirsty, I could, as the sign read, come and drink. I was unexplainably hesitant when I returned to the room. How could I properly explain what had taken place? I knew so many were content to be splashed, so I asked others around me, “have you tasted the water, and felt it run down your throat?” Many were confused, and said to me, “please, son, see the man, so he may love you and give you this living water.” But I knew in their hearts they had been deceived.
Some, to my excitement said “yes, and how marvelous it was!” And so we tirelessly discussed the implications of how a splash of water to the face cannot satisfy, but is certainly better than nothing. We wanted so desperately to introduce the people to what it is to drink this water in, but were concerned with the trouble it may cause, because I was ready to pick up the basin and dump it over their heads if they would not listen. I knew some people were content with their thirst, and the basin was only for those who would recognize that drinking from it is the only thing that will satisfy their thirst. We decided to take a room and fill it with proper instruction. We wanted to invite all who had been weary and heavy laden to find rest in this great basin. Our goal, for ourselves as well, was not to show the people how they can be loved by that sincere, kind man, but instead how they can learn to love just like that sincere, kind man. Our conviction was that until they learn to drink from the basin, they will always be too preoccupied with their thirst. So let us not tire in telling those who would drink not to hesitate to fill their cups with this wonderful, Living Water.
The recorded voice represents the radio ministries that eventually led me to Christ.
I looked over, and I saw busy-ness, chatter, and the like, and in the hand of every person was a smooth, round cup. Some were careful with them; others flung them about as if they held nothing. At the front of this place, and peering through the chaos and confusion was a kind, sincere man who in front of him, and under his control, was a great basin of water. The man looked straight at me, and gave me the impression that no person mattered to him as much as I did. I saw the great basin in front of him, and noticed his right shoulder was wet. I looked in my hand and noticed a smooth, round cup. At that moment, an incredible thirst came over me, and immediately I looked to the kind, sincere man. I thought surely this man would do all he could to quench my thirst, and became convinced, as it seemed to be so, that the specific job of this man was to quench the thirst of those in this building.
My throat was parched, so I rushed to the front. The madness of the people pushed me back and forth, and so I struggled to reach the kind man. The kind man looked at me, and with a genuine smile, put his hand on my shoulder and asked me if there was anything he could do for me. I was filled with excitement and anticipation as I stared down at the cool, fresh basin of water. I held my cup tight, and knelt before the man and said to him plainly, “sir, I am thirsty. I’m not sure how I came here, but I am grateful I have come because I see that in front of you is what I need. Would you be so kind, and fill my cup.” The man smiled widely, as if he loved nothing more than to do exactly that. The man said to me, “because you have said to me you are thirsty, and in desperate need of this water I have been entrusted with to give you, I will not hesitate to grant your request.” The man put his arms around me, and I felt a great love pour out of his heart. He then dipped his ladle in the basin, and was careful to not spill a single drop, but some still seeped away. He said, “Close your eyes, child, so you may receive this blessing.” I closed my eyes, but wanted the formalities to be over quickly because my thirst was so great.
My eyes shut, and everything went dark. Just before I burst with anticipation, I heard a swift movement, and then felt a splash against my face. I opened my eyes to see the sincere, kind man’s face radiate with excitement. My face was dripping wet, and this man looked at me as if he had faithfully fulfilled his office. He hugged me again, this time even tighter, and said to me “I love you so much, and any time you thirst, come to me, and I will take care of it.” I was shocked, but still so desperate for water, I lapped up what I could off my flesh and clothes, and saw in my cup just a few drops. Believing he had satisfied his duty to me, his attention quickly went to the next person, who stood in front of the kind man, closed his eyes, and jumping out of his skin said, “please… sir, splash me, pastor splash me!!!” The kind man reached his ladle into the basin, and splashed the water onto the face of this man.
Over time, this pastor grew weary, but his love for those who came to him did not wane. He urged everyone to bring people to him, so they may be satisfied, and many came. I watched this man dip his ladle into the basin many times, but didn’t see the water level drop one inch. This basin seemed to never run empty. The people relished the love of this man, and coveted the splashing on their face, but acted as if they knew no better. I left the room, somewhat discouraged, and still parched. I knew after my thirst had been quenched, I desperately wanted to love as that kind man had loved. I left the room, and came to another room with another basin. Above this basin was a sign that read, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink.” I froze at this opportunity. It seemed too good to be true… next to the basin was a small speaker. The voice inside the speaker said, “don’t be afraid… drink! Dip your cup, fill it, open your mouth, and let the water run down your throat, and know this water will always satisfy. Although you may be tempted to trust something else, nothing but this water will satisfy.” When the voice finished, it started over and said the same thing. After some hesitation because of the simplicity, I dipped my cup and drank.
It was the coldest, freshest water I had ever tasted. Immediately, I saw everything more clearly. It was if a veil had opened my eyes, and I could see clearly for the first time. What a blessing that recording was to me! But even more so, what a blessing the cool, refreshing water was to me! I had a source of strength. I knew when I felt thirsty, I could, as the sign read, come and drink. I was unexplainably hesitant when I returned to the room. How could I properly explain what had taken place? I knew so many were content to be splashed, so I asked others around me, “have you tasted the water, and felt it run down your throat?” Many were confused, and said to me, “please, son, see the man, so he may love you and give you this living water.” But I knew in their hearts they had been deceived.
Some, to my excitement said “yes, and how marvelous it was!” And so we tirelessly discussed the implications of how a splash of water to the face cannot satisfy, but is certainly better than nothing. We wanted so desperately to introduce the people to what it is to drink this water in, but were concerned with the trouble it may cause, because I was ready to pick up the basin and dump it over their heads if they would not listen. I knew some people were content with their thirst, and the basin was only for those who would recognize that drinking from it is the only thing that will satisfy their thirst. We decided to take a room and fill it with proper instruction. We wanted to invite all who had been weary and heavy laden to find rest in this great basin. Our goal, for ourselves as well, was not to show the people how they can be loved by that sincere, kind man, but instead how they can learn to love just like that sincere, kind man. Our conviction was that until they learn to drink from the basin, they will always be too preoccupied with their thirst. So let us not tire in telling those who would drink not to hesitate to fill their cups with this wonderful, Living Water.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Grace
This happened many years ago, but it as as real in my mind as if it was yesterday. I can only tell you what I heard, and what I saw with my own eyes, but I assure you it us unlike anything else you have heard before, or will hear after. I was walking through the market, when I noticed a large crowd gather around this man. I struggled to see what all the commotion was about, but the crowd seemed be getting larger and larger. Sometimes when something exciting happens, people will gather even if they don’t have any idea what was going on.
I heard lots of assumptions, and many theories. “I heard he killed a man,” one man said. “I heard it was fifty,” said another. “I heard he tried to start a revolt,” said a peasant. “I heard he tried to corrupt parliament, and kill the high governor,” said a proud, burly man. “Kill the high governor?!?” one peasant said with astonishment. “ohhh, I do hope they give to him what’s coming to him. Only a public execution will suit someone as evil as him.” The crowd seemed to be getting closer, and then I noticed it was coming in my direction.
I did my best to allow the people to pass by me, but soon I was drawn into the excitement. Large guards with swords drawn were screaming at us to “get back! Get back! You’ve seen enough, you’ll see plenty before the day is through!” At that moment, one guard shoved me, and I fell to my knees. I turned around and stared right into the face of the man. I recognized him. I had seen crowds gather around him in the past. I remember him as sort of a rebel, fighting with the parliament all the time, trying to get his way, claiming he was right about everything. I remembered his arrogance. I remember I heard him speak once, and he spoke with such conviction, as if he was sure every word that came out of his mouth was pure truth. I thought it silly that any man would feel this was about his words, and felt the conceit of this man is surely what led him to this point.
I found it hard to pity him, because a man with his pompous attitude is surely to come to such a grave consequence. I still didn’t understand the harsh treatment, but found it fitting. I don’t know if it was the anger, the assumptions, or perhaps they way he seemed to be treated, but for some reason I found it very easy to hate this man. Then he looked at me, and his eyes seemed to pierce straight into my soul. I don’t exactly know what I expected, but at that moment, time seemed to stand still. I could see the agony in his face, and clearly saw his convictions didn’t come from just inside himself. The blood poured down his face, and his entire body was black with bruises. He could barley breath, but even with the beatings he continued to stare right into me. I’m not sure if it was just the moment, or what it was, but everything around me became silent, as if it was all going on some distance away from me.
The loudest noises I could here was his breathing, and the faint cries of his followers screaming “what has this man done! This man is innocent! What is his charge! He has harmed no one!”
I turned to the side, but was immediately drawn back to his face. His heart was clearly broken, but it wasn’t because of what he endured. I saw clearly, written on his face, it was because of me. Before the tears welled up in me, the man whispered one word, very faint, but it rung like a bell on a still morning. The word was “grace.”
Immediately, everything came back into full bustle, and he was dragged away. The crowd followed, and so around me the crowd died down. I stood there silent. My mind was unable to comprehend exactly what had happened, and as far as I could tell, nothing had changed except my understanding and affections for that man. I stood there, silent. For what seemed like hours. I felt broken, as if it was possible for every part of my body to burst into tears. I recognized immediately that a great injustice was taking place. I also understood, perhaps divinely, that this day would bring no greater justice in the history of all the earth. Even today, I can think of no greater word, or even group of words, he could have uttered to me. Just then, a shopkeeper came up behind me, slapped me on the back, and said, "I guess that bugger’s finally gonna get what’s coming to him.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was as if his comments pierced right into my own heart. I turned to the man, looked at him, and muttered the only word I could think of, "grace." The man look dumbfounded, but suddenly, it was all I knew. I repeated the words several times to myself… “grace, grace…” Then I looked to the crowd, and again, I screamed, “grace.”
Everyone needed to know. I needed to tell everyone what the man had said to me. I went rushing towards the crowd, as fast as I possibly could, frantically screaming “grace” As I got closer, they seemed to ignore me. The shouting drowned me out. Some looked annoyed, others looked at me as if I was speaking some foreign language. I didn’t understand why it was so unclear to them, but at the same time had no idea what it was that seemed to be so clear to me.
As I pondered these things, the noise of the crowd died down. They had reached their destination. I could hear some mutterings. An important man was calling out his charges, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were. We were standing on a hill overlooking the city, but the crowd was so thick, I couldn’t quite see what exactly was happening. I heard whips and chains and nails and swords, and agonizing cries from the man that would give anyone nightmares for weeks. It seemed to go on much longer than it should have, and even the crowd that had turned against him seemed to wish it would end soon. Finally, after much struggle, I could see the man’s face.
The pain and exhaustion was beyond anything I thought any man could handle. Blow after blow, it continued. Everyone expected each blow to be the final one, but the man endured. I didn’t understand why or how. It seemed as if he should have died long ago, and then finally something changed. The man looked at his attackers, he looked at the crowd, and then to the city underneath, and in a voice so loud, and so terrible that it shook the ground we were on like a tremendous earthquake, he screamed the word I had heard him whisper to me earlier that day, but this time so everyone would hear it. “GRACE!” immediately, the man fell over dead.
Everyone seemed to be in the same shock I was in earlier that day, but one by one, and then soon all together, they turned around and went home. I stared sharply at the slumped over corpse right in front of me, and all that remained were a couple of guards. The city below was clearly in chaos. The house of parliament had tumbled to the ground. At first some thought it was an attack, but clearly it had something to do with this man. “Maybe he had some of his followers ready to tumble the parliament if anything should happen to him?” Said one of the guards. “Are you crazy?!?” Said the other. “What has this man done? He is innocent. We know his followers, most of them have left him. This man died alone, and for what? As far as I’m concerned, there was no good reason for him to die.”
The guard in front of him became ghost white. I was standing behind the first guard, and quickly turned around to see what he was staring at, and behold, there he was. The man who they had killed stood behind them. No one could explain how he had survived, but clearly this was something more. There fear was what he might do to them, for they were the ones responsible for his death. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as if I was in the same boat. Despite the man being unarmed, we all felt collectively that no amount of men would keep this man from destroying us if he felt it necessary.
He was clean, and glorious. You could hardly recognize him if it wasn’t for his piercing stare. He stood over the guard confidently, and if he was about to explain himself, he said one word, quietly, but quite assured, “grace.” The guard, taken back by these words, sighed deeply, and with great relief. Then he stared deeply into space as if he was contemplating something. He then looked up into the face of the beaming man, and said, with enlightened eyes, “Thank You.” The man smiled, turned to me, and came right towards me.
I dropped to my knees, muttered thank you, because it was all I knew how to say, and stared at the ground, because I dare not look at his face. He put his hand on my chin, lifted it up towards him, looked at me and said, “Make sure you tell everyone what you have seen here today.” He reached into his cloak that he now wore, and pulled out a book. “In here, you will find everything you need to know about me. Now go, tell the others.” What is astonishing to note, was his language. He said “tell the others” as if he knew exactly who I should tell.
After he had said these things, I could feel the word “grace” well up inside me, but went right back to thank you. Everyone on that great hill was on their knees. We know we had witnessed something astonishing, and there was clearly a camaraderie that had developed, as it always does when different people go through or witness an extraordinary situation. When we had come to our senses, the man was gone. We could hear the faint cries of “Thank You” coming from the city, and clearly our mission had been marked out.
I heard lots of assumptions, and many theories. “I heard he killed a man,” one man said. “I heard it was fifty,” said another. “I heard he tried to start a revolt,” said a peasant. “I heard he tried to corrupt parliament, and kill the high governor,” said a proud, burly man. “Kill the high governor?!?” one peasant said with astonishment. “ohhh, I do hope they give to him what’s coming to him. Only a public execution will suit someone as evil as him.” The crowd seemed to be getting closer, and then I noticed it was coming in my direction.
I did my best to allow the people to pass by me, but soon I was drawn into the excitement. Large guards with swords drawn were screaming at us to “get back! Get back! You’ve seen enough, you’ll see plenty before the day is through!” At that moment, one guard shoved me, and I fell to my knees. I turned around and stared right into the face of the man. I recognized him. I had seen crowds gather around him in the past. I remember him as sort of a rebel, fighting with the parliament all the time, trying to get his way, claiming he was right about everything. I remembered his arrogance. I remember I heard him speak once, and he spoke with such conviction, as if he was sure every word that came out of his mouth was pure truth. I thought it silly that any man would feel this was about his words, and felt the conceit of this man is surely what led him to this point.
I found it hard to pity him, because a man with his pompous attitude is surely to come to such a grave consequence. I still didn’t understand the harsh treatment, but found it fitting. I don’t know if it was the anger, the assumptions, or perhaps they way he seemed to be treated, but for some reason I found it very easy to hate this man. Then he looked at me, and his eyes seemed to pierce straight into my soul. I don’t exactly know what I expected, but at that moment, time seemed to stand still. I could see the agony in his face, and clearly saw his convictions didn’t come from just inside himself. The blood poured down his face, and his entire body was black with bruises. He could barley breath, but even with the beatings he continued to stare right into me. I’m not sure if it was just the moment, or what it was, but everything around me became silent, as if it was all going on some distance away from me.
The loudest noises I could here was his breathing, and the faint cries of his followers screaming “what has this man done! This man is innocent! What is his charge! He has harmed no one!”
I turned to the side, but was immediately drawn back to his face. His heart was clearly broken, but it wasn’t because of what he endured. I saw clearly, written on his face, it was because of me. Before the tears welled up in me, the man whispered one word, very faint, but it rung like a bell on a still morning. The word was “grace.”
Immediately, everything came back into full bustle, and he was dragged away. The crowd followed, and so around me the crowd died down. I stood there silent. My mind was unable to comprehend exactly what had happened, and as far as I could tell, nothing had changed except my understanding and affections for that man. I stood there, silent. For what seemed like hours. I felt broken, as if it was possible for every part of my body to burst into tears. I recognized immediately that a great injustice was taking place. I also understood, perhaps divinely, that this day would bring no greater justice in the history of all the earth. Even today, I can think of no greater word, or even group of words, he could have uttered to me. Just then, a shopkeeper came up behind me, slapped me on the back, and said, "I guess that bugger’s finally gonna get what’s coming to him.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was as if his comments pierced right into my own heart. I turned to the man, looked at him, and muttered the only word I could think of, "grace." The man look dumbfounded, but suddenly, it was all I knew. I repeated the words several times to myself… “grace, grace…” Then I looked to the crowd, and again, I screamed, “grace.”
Everyone needed to know. I needed to tell everyone what the man had said to me. I went rushing towards the crowd, as fast as I possibly could, frantically screaming “grace” As I got closer, they seemed to ignore me. The shouting drowned me out. Some looked annoyed, others looked at me as if I was speaking some foreign language. I didn’t understand why it was so unclear to them, but at the same time had no idea what it was that seemed to be so clear to me.
As I pondered these things, the noise of the crowd died down. They had reached their destination. I could hear some mutterings. An important man was calling out his charges, but I couldn’t quite make out what they were. We were standing on a hill overlooking the city, but the crowd was so thick, I couldn’t quite see what exactly was happening. I heard whips and chains and nails and swords, and agonizing cries from the man that would give anyone nightmares for weeks. It seemed to go on much longer than it should have, and even the crowd that had turned against him seemed to wish it would end soon. Finally, after much struggle, I could see the man’s face.
The pain and exhaustion was beyond anything I thought any man could handle. Blow after blow, it continued. Everyone expected each blow to be the final one, but the man endured. I didn’t understand why or how. It seemed as if he should have died long ago, and then finally something changed. The man looked at his attackers, he looked at the crowd, and then to the city underneath, and in a voice so loud, and so terrible that it shook the ground we were on like a tremendous earthquake, he screamed the word I had heard him whisper to me earlier that day, but this time so everyone would hear it. “GRACE!” immediately, the man fell over dead.
Everyone seemed to be in the same shock I was in earlier that day, but one by one, and then soon all together, they turned around and went home. I stared sharply at the slumped over corpse right in front of me, and all that remained were a couple of guards. The city below was clearly in chaos. The house of parliament had tumbled to the ground. At first some thought it was an attack, but clearly it had something to do with this man. “Maybe he had some of his followers ready to tumble the parliament if anything should happen to him?” Said one of the guards. “Are you crazy?!?” Said the other. “What has this man done? He is innocent. We know his followers, most of them have left him. This man died alone, and for what? As far as I’m concerned, there was no good reason for him to die.”
The guard in front of him became ghost white. I was standing behind the first guard, and quickly turned around to see what he was staring at, and behold, there he was. The man who they had killed stood behind them. No one could explain how he had survived, but clearly this was something more. There fear was what he might do to them, for they were the ones responsible for his death. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as if I was in the same boat. Despite the man being unarmed, we all felt collectively that no amount of men would keep this man from destroying us if he felt it necessary.
He was clean, and glorious. You could hardly recognize him if it wasn’t for his piercing stare. He stood over the guard confidently, and if he was about to explain himself, he said one word, quietly, but quite assured, “grace.” The guard, taken back by these words, sighed deeply, and with great relief. Then he stared deeply into space as if he was contemplating something. He then looked up into the face of the beaming man, and said, with enlightened eyes, “Thank You.” The man smiled, turned to me, and came right towards me.
I dropped to my knees, muttered thank you, because it was all I knew how to say, and stared at the ground, because I dare not look at his face. He put his hand on my chin, lifted it up towards him, looked at me and said, “Make sure you tell everyone what you have seen here today.” He reached into his cloak that he now wore, and pulled out a book. “In here, you will find everything you need to know about me. Now go, tell the others.” What is astonishing to note, was his language. He said “tell the others” as if he knew exactly who I should tell.
After he had said these things, I could feel the word “grace” well up inside me, but went right back to thank you. Everyone on that great hill was on their knees. We know we had witnessed something astonishing, and there was clearly a camaraderie that had developed, as it always does when different people go through or witness an extraordinary situation. When we had come to our senses, the man was gone. We could hear the faint cries of “Thank You” coming from the city, and clearly our mission had been marked out.
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