All of creation points to and teaches us of God, His requirements of us, our relationships to Him.
Life in Christ must be as spontaneous and natural as the branches to their tree trunk. And am I presumptuous in pointing out that as branches cannot live without the trunk so the trunk has no life without branches? Can it be that Almighty God is so committed to us, His creation?
We are branches, we are one,
Not by ourselves, not of ourselves,
But we live by the Greater One
Which gives us life,
Which gives us purpose for being.
Though we go our own ways,
One this way and that,
Still we serve the One greater
From where we come,
In Whom we have our being and our life.
We serve the Greater One and give It life;
We live for It and It alone.
The Trunk is our source and our deposit,
The Beginning and the End.
How can we live except we give?
If we do not give, the Trunk does not live;
If the Trunk does not live, we die.
For the Trunk then we live
No other choice can there be,
Yet we give not so that we live,
We are what we are;
We do what we do,
And if we do well we live.
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...
“Beware of false prophets. You shall know them by their fruits” said Jesus. Eggs are fruits, are they not? And many seem to assume that because there are eggs, there is truth. Eggs are neither good nor bad in themselves. What kind are they? Smiles and friendship are neither good nor bad. Why are they? Religious talk praising and extolling God is nothing in itself. So then one must have discernment to tell good fruits from bad. That discernment is the gift of God given only to those who have a love of the truth, selling all they have to possess it, even their very lives. The pilgrim on the path to truth is sorely tried and only the true seeker will enter in to that which is behind the veil. With a marvelous thought I awoke: Both serpents and birds lay eggs! Men do not; Mammals generally do not But those both beneath and above do! Many search for fruits And are deceived, In foolish assumption That that which lays eggs flies And they follow the layer Not into the skies But into a hole in the ground. They follow the layer, Not to be raised up above But to be bitten and devoured. Therefore, my friend, Beware of the fruits, What kind they are. And if you are my friend, You’ll have the eyes to see And the heart to understand. Lethbridge, Oct. 1, 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...