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
I once thought I had entered rest when I was first converted…and I had! Compared to the former horrible state of darkness and misery, the realm of repentance was glorious and restful indeed. But I had not arrived. Then came trials, urgings and purgings leading to the receiving of God’s Spirit. Again, the realm of the Spirit was glorious compared to the one of repentance, and I rested because revelations came and great burdens were lifted and removed forever. But I had not arrived. Chapters opened and closed and rest came at the end of each, yet beginnings introduced new fires, new terms of correction and purgings so that I could rest some more. But I had not arrived. Then came a breaking at the hands of dark men. Healings poured in. Sight was increased and lifestyle corrected. We were blessed and we rested. But we had not arrived. Years later, I wrote this paragraph after just having the severest trial I had ever had, likened by the Lord to that which Job had, yet alerted to the great contrast to his. (Job’s was classical, for our sakes). But I was taken right back to my very foundation and was now different than before. Years passed again and I found that I knew neither rest nor fires like they could be. In fire, I, again more than ever, writhed in pain. Rest comes in small doses and brief intervals, only to prepare one for more fire. (He that walks with God, walks in fire, until there is no more need of fire.) Today, God is all in all. Those who enter into rest not on...
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
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