City Dwellers

There was a day when I was filled with the excitement of knowing that God is our sufficiency in all things. My mind then turned to the city and what makes a city. I knew that firstly, His rule applies in all things of life and secondly, that the city was void in all areas of His rule and healing power. Furthermore, it was those who were in authority who were supposed to be teaching, directing, leading, delivering but instead were the ones responsible for the corruption and degeneration of the people. Only outside the city but not far away was the remedy, THE Remedy.

 

Hey, you city dwellers!

Do you see that yonder Light?

He is the Standard of all standards;

He lights the way so you can see…and not stumble.

He is the Walkway to lead you in sure directions

To take you where you need to go.

 

He is the Grocery Store;

He is your Bread and Butter and all good food,

Without additives…or subtractives;

You’ll find no nourishment elsewhere.

Why are you so gaunt, city dweller?

 

He is your Post Office;

To Him messages must go

And from Him they will come.

Mail service is timely and free;

Why don’t you pay your postage?

 

He is the local Drug Store

But for good and not for hurt.

In Him are the leaves

For the healing of the nations.

 

See that Jewelry Store around the corner

And there you’ll find precious stones

To grace the chest of one who wears them.

No costume jewelry here.

The gold is real, the stones are genuine;

He is not here to deceive.

 

He is your Clothing Store

To clothe you with clothes that cover and not expose;

To clothe you with decency and humility, city dweller;

To hide your shame.

Why do you pass by? Do you prefer your nakedness?

 

Drug pusher John, why do you dwell

In the darkest recesses of the alleys?

Are you afraid of the Light Standard?

Why do you betray the people in whose midst you dwell?

There is no hiding from the Light Standard, John.

He shines around corners and even through walls…it only seems to take

A little more time.

Your time is at hand, and how quickly it has come,

Tailored to your needs.

 

He is the Policeman;

Not a pig but the Lamb;

Not to injure or to trap but to help;

Not to condemn but to deliver.

 

Gather the rubbish, city dweller.

Clear the streets of its stench.

Throw your waste away which lies up to your waist

Into the receptacles of repentance so that

The Garbage Man may take it away

To the city dump of fire and forgiveness.

 

Counselors of the dwellers, where are you?

Why is there rubble in your streets?

From where comes the stench of garbage?

Why is the Water cut off and the Power?

Where are you, counselors of the dwellers?

Counseling yourselves in your high places

While the dwellers languish below?

Sewers for water and water for sewers!

Woe to the counselors who don’t know the difference,

And teach from the high places of darkness.

 

Repair the lines!

Turn away from your own comforts and gains, counselors,

Or you too will be in the garbage truck,

On the way to the fires.

You’ll receive the greater damnation

For the price you’ve exacted at the cost of

Dwellers near and far.

Give them the Pure and Living Water

So that they thirst no more.

Take away their waste

Instead of causing them to consume yours.

 

They worship you and honor you,

And ask for more of what you give,

Yet go away empty, darkened, hungry and without comfort.

You have what you are after.

 

Why is not the Light Standard shining?

Why are the streets so dark?

Let the price be paid by those who would have It shine.

Let the streets be seen again, if not for the first time.

And let the way be known;

Let it be obscure no more.

 

City dweller! There is little time

To rush, to push, to do;

There is a Park where you can go;

Sit down awhile, rest and think.

Where are you going?

What are you doing?

City dweller, why are you here?

Where will it end?

 

So you make your million. Then what?

Take your ease and enjoy?

Sit awhile longer, city dweller, and think again.

Those who seek their million neither rest nor enjoy.

They have only learned to make their million…

And another…and another.

 

City dweller, go to the Park; stop and consider for your life…

And consider until you have it.

On the edge of town just up the hill is a gate

With nothing between here and there but refuse.

Clear it out and make your way to that gate…a narrow gate,

Which opens to the City Lodge.

There you’ll find rest and food and comfort

And the Light Standard inside.

Lethbridge, Aug 14, 1984

Related posts:

Precious Guest
Not all who come are precious guests. There are both bad fish and good caught in the Kingdom’s net and the bad must necessarily be thrown away. There are those who enter in to feast with the saints who do not have on a wedding garment. These too must be thrown out. The precious guest, not known by appearance, is the one whom the Lord has brought into our midst to become one with us in Him. That guest may not be treated as a guest in worldly terms of hospitality and politeness. He may indeed be reproved and rebuked, told the truth, unpleasant to him as it may seem but by the grace of God, he will believe, respond and discover he is indeed a precious guest, beloved among the brethren. You have come not only because You have chosen to do so But you have been brought here To rest and to be comforted, To hear a word in due season, A good word, Whether it soothes or hurts, Whether it heals or cuts, But the truth will make you free Nevertheless. You have here a shelter from the storm, A haven of sweet rest, If you receive it as such. Bring in your peace with you If you wish it to be returned, And forsake everything unclean. Take off your shoes And rest awhile. May you be blessed and nourished, Strengthened and healed, Prepared to continue your journey In an alien world, In an hostile environment Because you are His. We hope you’ll be washed of this world’s dust, Bathed in the Word of God; We hope you’ll take on A fresh change of clothes And armour for...
Come with Me
Called on a ten day fast from all things dietary (but water) and social, the Lord was drawing me aside to spend time with Him and His saints and to prepare me for the future. The Lord has given me instruction To wait and fast and pray, To submit to this preparation, To accept all, come what may.   Come, My darling, come away To a land where there is only day; Loving hearts await you there Where you will rest, free from all care.   Come, My friend, why hesitate? I know, you're thinking of your mate. She'll be okay, I promise you, I have yet more for her to do.   The time will come to meet again, Not in a bog but pleasant glen, Where you will meet with warm embrace, With joy and gladness, face to face.   Your son, Jonathan, I gave to you; I'll make sure his heart is true And when their time is finally through I'll restore them both to you.   Moon River Estates, Jan. 29, 1998
Day of Jubilee
The world celebrates many things in many ways. It lives for good times and pleasures. Yet it has no good cause to rejoice because it excludes its Maker in its festivities, even when it celebrates in His Name. It also remains in darkness and bondage even while trying to act otherwise. The pilgrim, that lone spiritual wanderer looks on, waiting for the day when he or she can trade in the sorrow and suffering, the loneliness and uncertainties, at best the mediocre satisfactions in this world s existence for great and true celebration. My friend, there is that place, that time, yes, here as well as there, which is here. This is the Day of the Lord. Jubilee occurs on the Day of Atonement, the tenth day of the seventh month, once every fifty years. I wrote this seven years before experiencing the Jubilee. One is brought into it in the fulness of time.   Jubilee, oh Jubilee! The day declares the captive free, Delivered from the enemy, Glory bestowed for all to see; Oh, blessed Day of Jubilee!   Loss, defeat and misery, Death and Hell had been for me And tears prevented me to see That one day there'd be Jubilee; Oh, blessed Day of Jubilee!   The road beyond what eye can see Is littered with corpse and tragedy But trust the Lord and you will be At journey's end with ecstasy; Oh, blessed Day of Jubilee!   Moon River Estates, Jan. 1993

Leave a Reply