Print Friendly, PDF & Email

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:

My Boy
If and when financial blessings come, one comes into danger of straying after mammon. Mammon has a way of creating and whetting the appetite for more. More accurately, it has a way of rousing the carnal nature with what is already there. I began to be dissatisfied with what my money was doing in the bank at terrible interest rates, thinking I was a coward or a poor steward by not working the money to get better returns. I ended up in the stock market. Fear and Greed, two robust bullies, caught me in the back alley on my way to the bank and beat me severely. I lost two years of peace with my family and God knows how much more. My faith was greatly battered. One cannot play with fire and not get burned. A bitter lesson indeed. My boy had been such a joy to me and I missed him for a part of our lives. If you value life, flee mammon; don't rationalize; don't compromise; don't even think it...flee to God for your life. I wrote this during a fast a couple of years later, when I was expected to die.   I've missed my boy since '93; Money was all that I could see; Even robbed him of maternity; Without my boy since '93.   Hung a plaque up on the wall The words of which would say it all And failed my duty to heed that call Now all I can do is bawl and bawl.   Son, don't ever cry, the fault's not yours; I'm persuaded the Lord will even scores. How does He do it? by the blood He pours, Reuniting us on better shores.   Mom, please don't spoil ou...
Rools Four Inglish Spelling
Wee knead ownlee two studdie a langwidge uther than Inglish and soon beegin too diskover thuh mullteatood uv inncunsistenseas inn grambarr and spelling uv Inglish. And isn't it interesting that when Esperanto is introduced with its reason, logic and organized structure, we nevertheless prefer the disorder and confusion of our own language, be it English or otherwise? Needless to say, this is not the day of peace, harmony and wun tung four awl. Rite? Write? Reight? Right? Ring rang rung, Bring brang brung, Sing sang sung, Ding dang dung! Rools Four Inglish Spelling   Wun. Teak lawjick, kut it down as aye bough and throw it inn aye slough ore aye trough. Butt that is knot enough. Too. Bee prepaired two bee confowndead, purpleckst and frustraited. Therdlee. Eckspecked two suspecked loozing yore mined. Fore. Dew knot feal thair iz eckneething rong with yoo. Phive. Fourghet triying two halve aye shoor phyre sisthame. Sicks. Thee unfourchunit groop yule joyne iph ignouring mie cownsull, and Seaven. Rimes with heven four whitch yu must hoap aund whitch iz whare yu mey think yu gow iff yu kwit inglish aund teak up sum uther langwidge.   Lethbridge, 1984, 85
Periphery
Living with loose ends that seem perpetual is one of the difficult facts of life, especially if those ends were not expected to be loose and most of all if those loose ends had at first appeared to have the promise of completion upon which we set our hopes. As we press on toward the mark we gradually begin to learn that those things we counted important, achievable and our destiny were really only elements of a process. With the process complete in any of its stages, we discover firstly a change in ourselves and then the elements we once considered so important are cancelled with our ready consent. The destination is not without but within. When once the work is done within, those outward things we sought fade away, no longer perceived as desirable or important. How many times have I thought I arrived only to discover I was just beginning! That which was is no longer relevant, as a fading flower that falls to the ground. One must come to the sobering truth that all we do is vanity. The greatest works of men upon earth are entirely vain. What's more, as much can be accomplished and\or learned in the most mundane and simple things and activities of our existence as in what we perceive to be higher and more noble works. Who has the measure? The issue is not one of what we do or how well we do it but one of motive and attitude. There is the key of deliverance from Periphery.   Periphery, Periphery, Your victims going round, Seeing, smelling, Even tou...

Leave a Reply

You have to agree to the comment policy.