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
The incomprehensible frivolity of those who deem it enjoyable and sporting to make a game of killing and suffering! Such acts and attitudes are symptoms of a horridly sick society indeed. To make a sport of the tragedies of mankind is to demonstrate a madness of the vilest kind on earth, worse than that which we find in asylums because those out and about, free to do as they please, are pleased to mimic the worst there is, though they are judged by the rest of society to be sane and responsible. The judges are as ill as the judged, if they find no fault or harm in such behavior. War games? War games? War games! Play, everybody, play! And play the dreaded things that one never plays again When the real appears. In all its horror and confusion, The incredible, the imagined takes its form from nowhere, But not from nothing. Frolicking souls, restless souls, selfish souls, Dull, simple, foolish and ghoulish; Shoot and kill! Play the game without the blood in sight, Though the blood already gushes forth With its life spilled to the ground. While they play and rejoice in mock victories, Storm clouds swiftly creep. Even the rain spatters to warn but none take care And none suspect that the rain is red. Now they say, “Better red than dead” until they say “I wish I were dead.” Now they only pretend, like children, Running and laughing, not watching, Until they fall into the strong hands of a stranger, One of whom they have heard, One of whom they have t...
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....
Inconsistency and contradiction are facts of life which increase in both stature and clarity as we grow in spiritual maturity. Stature because we are subjected according to our own increasing capacity to withstand these foes and clarity because as we increase, we see more of what has always been there. Is it not ironic that the fool Rejects the very thing that would deliver him From the pain and failure he calls bliss? Water does not always find the lowest level. Is it not ironic that those Who stand in need the most Stand strongest against provision? Water does not always find the lowest level. And those who have less need Have it because they have learned The value of the provision To minimize the need. "To him who has Shall more be given, And to him who has not, Even the little he has Shall be taken from him." Jesus Lethbridge, Oct. 1984