When you are given to see the incarnation of bitterness concentrated in your direction, I doubt that there can be a more hideous spectacle, especially when residing in one whom you have known intimately for decades and who is supposed to have the opposite, love, toward you. This comes by revelation but also by outer manifestation in the end for, all things must come to light and be dealt with, and are in the “last days.” Only understanding of God can give one the encouragement to forgive, and faith to persevere.
But bitterness is the lot of every believer and everyone must come to terms with it once and for all in the end. This is the “wicked one being revealed” and dealt the death blow. While it is the worst time of all, yet there is cause for those who believe to lift up their heads because redemption is near at hand. The manifestation of that mysterious man of bitterness is a token of the Lord present for it is in His coming that the son of perdition is exposed and destroyed. But destroyed how? By being redeemed, transformed, resurrected, reconciled to God through the Son of God. It is a great and terrible event.
Bitterness cries, “You owe me!”
And she will not rest until
She gets what she wants.
She’ll not be persuaded otherwise
Nor will a substitute do.
“I disagree with You!” she cries to God.
“Either You don’t know what You’re doing
Or, You cannot do what’s right.
So I have to do it!
I have to take control of things;
I have to protect myself
And get what I want.
Nobody else can be trusted to do it for me.
But I know I can’t,
Yet I have to try
And try and try until
You will finally see it my way.
I am wise in my own eyes.”
Bitterness is stubborn;
She shuts her eyes and stops her ears.
She sees what she wants to see;
She tells herself what she wants to hear,
Yet is deceived in believing
That which is not true.
Her heart worships her ambition and desire
Perceived incarnated in this world’s promise.
Nothing can persuade her otherwise.
And the Lord comes
And grants her all her desire
And more than she asks.
He opens her eyes to see
And she closes them, seeing.
Brokenness cries, “I owe you!”
And cannot rest until
The debt is settled once for all.
He opens her eyes to see
And she rests, pacified.
Content is her new name.
Moon River Estates, Jan. 11 and
Read The Bane
The scalpel, cod liver oil and discipline are examples of the many things in life undesirable and hard to take but which are there usually for our good. It will not suffice to judge good and bad by our own understanding which is "understanding." We can tell nothing by appearance. So our selfishness is removed by trials and tribulations, fires that purge us of pride, self-sufficiency and arrogance in which we think we know what is best for us. There come times when we are troubled And in that trouble we have nowhere to turn it seems. At such a time of desperation we cry out for help. Somehow, having asked for help before, We receive no reply. But our cry must be loud enough and earnest enough to be heard. "Prince Valiant, Prince Majesty, come to my aid; Only you can save me now. I've waited too long and now I must turn To such as yourself for deliverance. Oh! But I need a miracle! I need a shining light, The sound of thunder and a shaking of earth; No less will do for me now! A chariot of God; to take me up Leaving my enemies far below. Who is this man I wait for? A man in shining armour, Fitted from head to toe; With perfect knowledge, power and wisdom, Compassion with overflow; A flaming sword in his hand, Magnificent shield in arm; There is no standing up to him... Invincible is his name. Who is it I hear knocking at the door? Another enemy? Is it more trouble?" I view through the peephole an unpleasant specta...
I have known fear, perhaps not as some have known it but many know fear one way or another, at one time or another, to such an extent that it cripples, paralyzes the soul. We think we have security in this world until one day we are rudely awakened from our pipe-dream. Security in this world is but an illusion. When our disillusionment comes, its comrade-in-arms is often fear. But that disillusionment needn’t be our enemy. In truth, it can be a friend in disguise. Nor do we need to fear as though there is no such thing as true and sure security, for then we would be prey to a lie, to our own destruction. There IS a sure security for those who will avail themselves of it. My fear rides me like a stern rider Rides his horse. Unless I run his pace, His spurs dig deep my sides. I think blood flows at times…I’m sure of it. I scarcely dare to think, to pause For fear I have a rider Who will not show me mercy Who will not grant me pardon Who will not make a move To relent, to ease my pain. “Run!” he says. I run. “Faster!” says he. I go faster. “Faster isn’t good enough! You’ve had it!” I think that if I drop, I have sweet release. He whips me as I fall. Fear is not afraid to beat a dead horse. He seems to relish it, delight in it. The compassion of fear is tyranny, His patience only scorn. He takes the meat and feeds it to minks, And then I think, “Aha! There is rest in the mouths of minks, Fear has no torment there!” Until I find that my rider Is possess...
The terrible battle to be fought by the seeker of God is against unbelief. One moment, we can be so full of belief, of joy and excitement, assurance and boldness. Then, as little as it takes to slam a door, so quickly and surely have saints of God known the onslaught of unbelief in all its terrible power. Our fight is the fight of faith. Our faith is the victory. Nor is it a faith concocted, a matter of will power. It is rather, a surrender to God, an acceptance of things as they are, an acknowledgment of things as they are and entrusting them entirely out of our control to His. Thus we come out of our valleys, our clouds of darkness and into the light. Wave after wave, Billow after billow, No rest, no peace, except for a time, A short time, a breather so to speak, From the unrelenting pressures which increase. Darkness all around us, Blind alleys at every turn, Clouds obscure the light of day And leave us damp and cold. When will we be free? When will the storm cease? Has it no end? Has it no bounds? Can we go on with our hopes Dashed to pieces at every turn, Like cardboard huts in a hurricane? Is it sin in our lives that causes this state? Is the wrath of God kindled against us? Have we no hope, no reason to expect An end to intermittent turmoil? “There is no peace to the wicked,” the Scriptures say, Yet we have searched and searched ourselves again. And though we know that in our flesh dwells no good thing, We still find ourselves without an answer....