“Speak to me!” A cry from all humanity. We search the skies for hand written confirmations there is a God. We expect to see writing in the clouds declaring, “I AM here!”
God has always known we’d need affirmations of His presence, so He made such provision. He has written us love letters to read everyday we exist. They are written in every language we could possibly understand. With eyes open we can see them. We can read them one by one or in combination.
We can read them in words, in color, in our love for one another, in a flower, in an aroma, in a touch, in a song, in a passion, in a wonder, in math, in science, in fire, in water, in a rainbow, in the air that we breathe.
Love letters created for us to read and enjoy. Love letters to behold the magnificence of the One who is beyond comprehension for the depths of love. Even the skies declare His love letters in the sun and the stars. Love letters written in the very beats of our own hearts. Love letters written into our laughter, our smiles, even our tears. The language of love is all around us, always speaking, always answering humanity’s cries.
In the afterglow of sharing hearts for God, I sometimes find myself unable to sleep or even concentrate again on thoughts pertaining to life on earth. At times a certain guilt has tried to come upon me; A guilt that I spend too much time wanting to pray, read of, or speak of Jesus. I look at the truth though and push aside the lie that I am guilty of anything.
Col 3:2 Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth.
Sitting at a table in a downtown square, I drank my tea and listened to the conversation I was part of. My eyes were elsewhere. Every few minutes I could see a homeless one come through. They are the unseen even in such a public place. I disciplined myself to stay put, but took note of each of them.
I no longer wondered where they all came from. I’d begun to make friends while in the park. Their stories were all different but they were all the same. A brokenness of sorts was at the root of all.
Pro 15:13 A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance, But by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.
“It’s been one of those days” he said. Without further explanation for what he meant, I just got it. I often think about what has been said long after I’ve left people and conversations. One of those days generally expresses “less than great”.
Being a lover of Jesus, I am often confronted with the curiosity of those who are looking for a religious expression of what that means. Somewhere in their background they have learned a lie about God. They either think He will prevent any problems to ever come into your life, or else they think Him a mean and judgmental figure. Many who think the latter often have some picture in their head of a grumpy old man with a really big magnifier, burning ants in the sun rays.
My friend was simply being honest. He was having less than a great day. I knew what he meant because my own situations try to make things less than great. Still I smiled and nodded wherein he did the same. Nothing further needed to be said. We were where we needed to be, in the center of truth, hope, justice and love. With another friend, we celebrated the goodness of God’s grace despite our current circumstance.
Days earlier I had been at a house where a stove flame would not properly burn without the rings needed to disperse the fire adequately. My mind kept going back to that scene over and over as I stood in this circle with fellow believers. The circle we stood in felt important, especially as we held hands; it was an unbroken ring. Again, I heard “blue fire” but I wasn’t comfortable to speak aloud about this word or any visions so I remained quiet. Prayers were being offered and I tried to concentrate for what was being spoken but my spirit was coaxing me to forget about my fears and speak.
I ask my Father often for the ability to obey without question but then I find myself arguing to do what I’m prompted to. (Just a truth being worked out in me.) Our circle did not break and my discomfort shifted quickly from my not wanting to speak to not wanting to disobey. Finally I shared with this group a word I’d already shared with others about “blue fire” and a brief explanation, as shared with me, about the blue to represent more purification in each of us in the body of Christ.
The Lord was gracious to let us all hear laughter in that moment. One of the women in our circle shared how once we had joined our hands, she had been given a vision of a blue flame that had went around our circle. More prayers were offered and we grew silent listening to the worship music playing in the background….“Who will let me be a ring of fire around them?”…sang out…we took note of this; it wasn’t coincidence.
Driving foreign roadways I was far from anything or anyone I could have called home. There were no street signs to guide me for where I was. I simply had to learn the terrain. I couldn’t even read my own license. It was written in another language different than that I had grown up with.
Restlessness often drew me to the beachfront and this night was no different. I had taken the long way homeward on the highway. Pulling into a parking lot I directed my steering wheel toward an open spot.
Crash!!! Stunned for the moment I didn’t understand what had happened. Once I got my bearings, I realized a motorcycle had tried to pass me on the wrong side in the parking lot. Scrambling out of my car I went to the downed rider only to be greeted with a barrage of what I was pretty sure to be curses. It was one of those rare moments where I didn’t need any translation for what was being communicated. Seeing him get up I felt overwhelmed with relief. His yelling was almost priceless in that moment.
Years later as I think about that man, I realize he never took off his helmet. I can’t remember anything about him except his anger. What impresses me though, is how we were both watched over that night. It was not allotted to either of us to die in that collision. Now and again I wonder if he thinks about that American girl he yelled at? More importantly I wonder if he wonders about why he walked away without a scratch?
Movies roll across big screens throughout our nation. We bring bigger and bigger televisions into our homes and buy into all the latest technologies which will make these movies more realistic. I love a great movie, but essentially I have to realize why I watch them. I want more!
I want the impossible dream. I want the childhood fantasy. I want the perfect love.
I want what Jesus offers!
In my errand run I did the unthinkable and wore a shirt I didn’t iron first nor did I don a hat to hide my rat nest hair day. It wasn’t important if I was going through a car wash. While my car idled under the water jets I remembered I still had another stop to make. The public was just going to have to suffer my outward assault on decorum.
Once at the local store, I saw a couple people standing outside the entryway. Instantly I lost track of my appearance and focused on what I was seeing. An elderly woman seemed to be concerned with the circumstance of a man who was asking for spare change. I too got out my wallet to offer him what change I had and asked him if he was hungry. He shared it’d been a couple days since he’d last eaten. I had him come inside the store with me to get some food.
Meeting great people in not so great circumstances is a delicate matter. What I say to them and how I treat them makes a difference. Not wanting to shame him, I tried to gently draw him into casual conversation while we got some items to nourish his immediate needs. Once outside I was sensitive to offer, but not insist, to pray with him and I was delighted he wanted me to do that.
I shared with him the love I have been given, and to my surprise he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek and thanked me. It was so sweet I knew I had been kissed by a gentleman and a prince.
“People come and people go, how long I say, I just don’t know….crackpot history, and the right to lie” *
This dude singing was just a guy in the punk rock eighties scene. No one paid him much attention beyond his music. He didn’t wear a suit or present himself in parliament. Yet….?
I have read dozens of history books, and a truth I have learned, they don’t teach truth in classrooms. In all the classes I was ever made to take to get a ‘higher education or certification’, none made me look at the real history of our nation or even our world.
What I was made to study was the evolutionary lie, and also a psychological frame work of the brain, based on a man’s obvious genius skewed by his drug induced state of mind.
Why are our universities afraid to pursue adamantly this truth? Education has always grown because of challenging ideas. When did we stop testing for truth? Our nation was founded on truth. Let’s go back so we can go forward!
* Adam Ant – Crackpot History (And The Right To Lie)
Who are you? Really?
I have read the book You’ve written. Still I want to know more of You. I want to walk with You. I want to talk with You. I want to lay my head upon Your chest. I want to hear Your heartbeat. I want to look into Your eyes. I want to hold Your hand. I want to sit at Your feet. I want to hear Your laughter. I want to feel You breathe a sigh of contentment. I want to know Your name. I want to dance with You. I want to love You without any reservations.