Little did I know when the Lord told me He would show me His people through His eyes that I was one of those people, that I would be shown not only by seeing as an observer but as partaker as well. And He too is a partaker of the sufferings of His people. “I am hurting, I am hurting!” He said to me. I know too well the pain, the death and hell we must all face, the iniquity we must be shown in ourselves and be purged of by fires. I have identified and do identify with His people. I just did not think, though I surely believed I was His, that I was, by nature, a partaker of all the sins and vanities of His people and therefore a partaker of the fruits of them as well.
When the Lord shows one something, He shows him not by mere observation but subjection. Only then do we know and understand and relate.
One day while praying quite dignified, I was forced to be relieved,
And in an old cabin the Lord signified what in me He had conceived.
I will show you My people by My eyes, their suffering and sorrow you’ll see;
They live in weeping and gnashing and cries but proclaim that they are free.
In their stoves burns no fire to give them heat, the wind blows through the walls;
From broken glasses and plates they eat, and off its hinges the front door falls.
Their power is void while idols abound; vain professions are on their tongue;
No floor ‘neath their feet covers the ground, their possessions are no more than dung.
These are His people the Lord lets me see, people for whom He does hurt;
His desire for them is that they be free, raised up to the sky from the dirt.
“A critic you are,” said one man to me; I didn’t like the thought,
But now a critic I know I must be though for this I have not sought.
Truth I desire in my innermost being, not only for me but for others,
But Satan comes and keeps them from seeing and life in their hearts he smothers.
Yet one day will come when all evil will fail from this world in Christ;
The righteous will be the head, not the tail, when they’ve come to their sacred tryst.
Prince Albert, 1976
I am mildly surprised as I read these words months after writing them. Mildly, I say, because it isn’t a surprise and yet it is, to see how I have been so down in my hopes, feelings and outlook on things. I marvel somewhat because I know this has happened on many occasions while in between those times I have also felt quite to the contrary, as though the Lord were very much with me and that by Him, nothing was impossible. I have particularly felt the latter way, with full conviction immediately after the Lord has manifest Himself to me in some way, unmistakably. But how soon and how able we are to forget and to be in despair! The whole world rots before my very eyes. Blind I am not to its corruption; Men bide their time in vain travail Or wait until they have to go. Suffering and death are everywhere, Sickness, disease and hell; Selfishness and greed reign over all; Each man denies another’s rights. Hell is on the left, Death is on the right; Fake religions promise emancipation; Vain hopes carrot asses everywhere; The wisest are led by them, bled by them, and slain by them. God is here, God is there, God is everywhere; And nowhere. There is no truth, no mercy, no compassion, No righteousness nor justice in this earth. Men are quick to boast their virtue, To make a show of goodness, ‘Til they have you where they want you And slit your throat for what you have If even so very little. I see the wickedness and the cruelty, The deception of every man Bu...
"You've got to walk...that lonesome valley...you've got to walk...it by yourself..." the song goes. As it was with our father of faith, so with every sojourner. "Look to Abraham your father, and to Sarah who bore you; for I called him alone, and blessed him and increased him." There is no other way. On the day that I set out to walk with God I became lonely. My family insisted That I remain with it - I chose my loneliness, Part of the price to pay For obedience to God. I entered a family of those Who claimed to walk with God, Only to discover feigned faith. They insisted I be as they. Called out from among them Again I was lonely. He gave me a wife Knowing it not good That I should be alone. Together we searched for friends - A cup of water here And a cup there But no well. Today, after many years, He gives us a son Who helps to bear our loneliness But we are lonely. What is it to be lonely? It is to be alone In desires, in thoughts, in understanding, In conversation, in goals and interests, In activity, in purpose. Added to our loneliness, Betrayals and disappointments To sharpen the pain that is there - They come with smiles And depart with frowns. Added to our betrayals and disappointments, The enmity of adversaries Opposing what we are And why we are here, Hating us without a cause Added to the hatred, Loneliness, For they hate us And us alone. Moon River, Oct. 29...
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...