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 only have it; they ARE the rest. This is Shabbat; this is the Feast of Tabernacles, that glorious union with the Lord Jesus Christ, Yahushua Adonai Ha Mashiach. It is His coming. This is the Day of the Lord, the Day of Vengeance, the Day of Yahweh, the Day of Yahushua Adonai. Blessed be His Name!
(This poem was written years before the reality. Many of the utterings of the saint in process are prophetic, not merely poetic, even as with David in his psalms).
How good is this rest, my Lord, my God!
How good is this rest!
To sit and wait with nothing in hand,
To be patient and willing to see that in store,
To know in the heart that all is Yours
How good it is to rest!
We’ve been climbing and struggling,
Working and crying,
With nothing in sight,
With all things far off,
With hopes deferred, promises delayed
Dreams and hopes dashed to the ground,
Shattered in many pieces.
We have lost and failed
Toiling for unreachable gains.
But now we have our gain;
Now we have received our rewards.
Little did we know that we labored
For the goal of
Not having to labor.
Now we recline, now we rest;
In repose we have a new heart.
We can be patient, resting in
The bosom of Abraham;
Children of faith we have now become.
Yes, though the earth is removed
We know that Abraham needs no earth
To hold him up.
Being in his bosom, we have no need
To have our feet on passing ground.
We have our feet on solid rock;
We sit in His throne with Him;
We repose in heavenly places;
At peace we are within
Because nothing can remove us
From the safety we now have.
We see how little we have to fear;
We see how He provides.
“God is faithful!” are the words
That embed themselves in our hearts.
Our heart can no longer live without them.
God is all and over all;
We’ve sought to know that for years,
With head knowledge and lips;
We believed but did not know.
Give me the couch,
I have had the ladder;
I’ve climbed to the mountains of rest.
Let me repose, it is heavenly bliss,
The reward we have for our labours.
We have ceased from our works,
We have ceased from sin,
We have ceased from worry and fright.
God grant us this life forevermore;
May we be staid in His sight.
Thank You, Lord for giving us rest,
For so long we have so sought;
The rest You give those who seek after You
To reign and to be at peace.
No longer do enemies rule over us;
No longer do our needs hold sway;
The protection and provision
Which we now have of God
Are as a two-edged sword.
Firstly He gives us the privilege,
Secondly He gives us the goods;
Firstly He gives it within,
And then He grants it without.
Death has no sting,
The grave has lost,
The resurrection is robber and healer at once;
We are the goods He has wrested from Hell,
Repaired for Himself for all time.
Sing with the angels!
Dance with the saints!
Let Heaven explode with joy!
Celebration and feasting have fearful cause;
Nothing can stand in their way.
Sing, o creation and clap your hands!
Your smile has purpose unsurpassed;
This is your day and your hour
For deliverance from groaning and grief,
From vanity and awesome oppression,
From death and Hell itself.
A manifest son of God has risen
To set the captive free
To heal the broken-hearted,
To take away burdens of the oppressed.
Sing and dance and jump for joy!
Eat, drink and be merry!
No greater cause is there for such
When a saint has entered his glory.
There is a rest for the people of God!
No more thorn and thistle and briar,
No more toil and sweat and tear,
No more disappointment.
There is the restoration of Eden,
The blessed garden of God.
There is wealth and the glory and power
Reserved unto them that believe.
Rest, o sweet, wonderful rest,
In peace and holy comfort,
Earned, not earned, taken yet given
But appreciated nonetheless.
Fearful are the ways and judgments of God!
How high and mighty His ways!
Lift up your knees and your arms;
Lift up your head, sojourner;
Travel-weary and bruised you may be,
Robbed of your goods and your dreams,
Abandoned, alone with nobody
To care nor understand.
But He is there though He is hid,
Until the day of unveiling,
And when the veil is rent in two
From Heaven to Earth,
Then no more flesh stands in the way,
Of the Christ there is no more dearth.
There is rest in the room of the ark;
There is perfect sweetest rest.
Here in the bosom of Abraham,
Jesus is manifest.
Keep His commandments, never say die;
There is a time to come
Where cost transforms to benefit untold
And all is then worthwhile.
And carnal man, you must be told
That though I write from Heaven,
Yet I am in my flesh ’til now
And speak by such a mouth as yours.
The change has come this side of the grave
And needn’t be hoped for only beyond.
Inherit the earth, my beloved friends,
And savour the sweet rest of God!
Lethbridge, Sept. 1984
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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
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...