Conversation: Rare

Bird of Paradise Flower

1 Corinthians 1:

²⁶ For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called:

²⁷ But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty;

²⁸ And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are:

²⁹ That no flesh should glory in his presence.

Diamond in the Rough

CHRIST CRACKS HARD CASES

God chose Saul. What was he? A blasphemer. A

persecutor. That is grace. Our God is gracious and He loves

to show His mercy to the vilest and worst of men. There was

a notable character in the town in which I lived who was

known as the worst man in the town. He was so vile, and his

language was so horrible, that even wicked men could not

stand it. In England they have what is known as the public

hangman who has to perform all the executions. This man

held that appointment and he told me later that he believed

that when he performed the execution of men who had

committed murder, that the demon power that was in them

would come upon him and that in consequence he was

possessed with a legion of demons. His life was so miserable

that he purposed to make an end of life. He went down to a

certain depot and purchased a ticket. The English trains are

much different from the American. In every coach there are a

number of small compartments and it is easy for anyone who

wants to commit suicide to open the door of his

compartment and throw himself out of the train. This man

purposed to throw himself out of the train in a certain tunnel

just as the train coming from an opposite direction would be

about to dash past and he thought this would be a quick end

to his life.

There was a young man at the depot that night who had

been saved the night before. He was all on fire to get others

saved and purposed in his heart that every day of his life he

would get someone saved. He saw this dejected hangman and

began to speak to him about his soul. He brought him down

to our mission and there he came under a mighty conviction

of sin. For two and a half hours he was literally sweating

under conviction and you could see a vapor rising up from

him. At the end of two and a half hours he was graciously

saved.

I said, "Lord, tell me what to do." The Lord said, "Don't

leave him, go home with him." I went to his house. When he

saw his wife he said, "God has saved me." The wife broke

down and she too was graciously saved. I tell you there was a

difference in that home. Even the cat knew the difference.

There were two sons in that house and one of them said

to his mother, "Mother, what is up in our house? It was never

like this before. It is so peaceful. What is it?" She told him,

"Father has been saved." The other son was struck with the

same thing.

I took this man to many special services and the power of

God was on him for many days. He would give his testimony

and as he grew in grace he desired to preach the gospel. He

became an evangelist and hundreds and hundreds were

brought to a saving knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ

through his ministry. The grace of God is sufficient for the

vilest and He can take the most wicked of men and make

them monuments of his grace. He did this with Saul of

Tarsus at the very time he was breathing out threats and

slaughter against the disciples of the Lord. He did it with

Berry the hangman. He will do it for hundreds more in

response to our cries.

You will notice that when Ananias came into that house

he called the one-time enemy of the gospel "Brother Saul."

The Lord Jesus has sent Ananias to that house to put his

hands upon this newly saved brother that he might receive his

sight and be filled with the Holy Ghost. You say, "But it does

not say that he spoke in tongues." We know that Paul did

speak in tongues; that he spoke in tongues more than all the

Corinthians. In those early days they were so near the time of

that first Pentecostal outpouring that they would never have

been satisfied with anyone receiving the Baptism unless they

received it according to the original pattern given on the Day of Pentecost.

(Taken from "Faith That Prevails" by Smith Wigglesworth)

Schambach' s Biker Buddy

I have a real debt of gratitude to evangelist R.W. Schambach of Tyler, Texas. Often on a Friday night my family would hop into the car and head out of Chatham to enjoy the fresh air and to get better radio reception from Detroit for the "Voice of Power" daily broadcast.

Brother Schambach always found the right balance in his messages. Acknowledging trials as real but pressing through on the promises for victory. He was Everyman's preacher, and his auditorium or tent meetings drew an amazing cross-section of people. The common denominator was need. Praise was electric. Prayer lines were long and fruitful.

I remember one "big blue tent" meeting at the Detroit fairgrounds. Half way through the message our baby Jordan became cranky, and I left the girls to give him some fresh air in his stroller around the periphery. Seated toward the back were four biker-looking individuals, seemingly out of place. Denim. Chains. Beards (All except the girl).Tattoos. Folded muscular arms.

I noted them, chuckled and moved on. Jordan eventually calmed down and we returned to the family. Next Schambach asked if perhaps "Danny" were present and would he come forward to speak to the people.

Up came the biggest and the baddest of the bikers with a moving story of salvation and service. Apparently his praying "Gramma" cornered him into a church meeting, and when the invitation was so sweetly and spiritually given, he found himself responding as if feet were not even touching the ground. Hard to imagine this big guy ever experiencing weightlessness! Ever acknowledging vulnerability.

Danny alluded to crimes and debauchery punished and many others left undetected. But now he was on board for Jesus and sharing his blessings on the road and at inter-state bikers' rallies. Schambach then interrupted him and advised that he would be taking away a Gospel tent as a gift for his biker ministry.

The man was overwhelmed . Bursting forth with praise he started to dance across the platform with the fastest steps ever recorded on a heavy man.

So much for first impressions, Doug, when it comes to servants of the King.

Now, some of my friends of Reformed thought will be quick to say that if the man were destined to be softened and saved, God would have his way. but remember as the apostle Paul was insistent in saying in Romans 10:14

How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?

It all fits together.

Dostoyevsky and His Testament

He was found writing and circulating pamphlets against the czarist regime. Standing in front of a firing squad with other unfortunates, blindfolded. Waiting for that dreadful word, "Fire".But instead rough hands pulled him away from the place of death, yanked off the blindfold. Reprieve! And a new order to make profit from these troublemakers in the work camps of Siberia. Ten years hard, cold labour.Shocked and puzzled, Fyodor Dostoyevsky waited for his transport, wondering whether to thank God or Lady Luck. On the day of departure in the bustle of line-ups at the train, a woman placed a pocket New Testament in his hand, squeezed it, and gazed upon him briefly with eyes of hope. She was accompanied by another and together they whispered that he might examine it in his spare time. Then they were gone.That Testament became his hiding place, his focus of good, of hope. With stolen hours and stolen candle light he studied the record of the Man of Mercy and meditated upon the heart and purposes of Christ. He read it to others. They engaged in dialogue which effectively transported them from the harshness and purposelessness of the camp. In his words: "One sees the truth more clearly when one is unhappy. And yet God gives me moments of perfect peace; in such moments I love and believe that I am loved; in such moments I have formulated my creed, wherein all is clear and holy to me. This creed is extremely simple: here it is. I believe that there is nothing lovelier, deeper, more sympathetic, more rational, more manly and more perfect than the Saviour. I say to myself with jealous love that not only is there no one else like Him, but that there could be no one."

Following his detention, which included five years military service, life was difficult. Family debts threatened to rob him of most of the profits of his writing. A gambling addiction. But a good wife and a constant communion with Christ were his consistent salvation. He resolved in many of his works of fiction to make use of Bible stories and to consider the merits of Christ and Christ-likeness. Go to his classics and see this illustrated: Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, The Brothers Karamazov. His topics were often suffering and the inequities of life.

To me it is a joy to consider that during the seventy-plus years of hard Communist experiment, including the suppression of Christian worship, these books were treasured in the households and libraries of the federation. It was, if you will, a long growing season of the wheat and the tares together and indistinguishable until the harvest began in 1989.

Imagine the scene in Crime and Punishment where the murderer has come to the harlot's poor and ill-lit apartment. Her bruised soul has taken comfort from the account of Christ and other unfortunates like herself. She draws out her Bible and reads to Raskolnikoff the story of the raising of Lazarus. He asks, 'Could there be such a thing? The raising of a dead man to new life and opportunity? I am dead.'

Leo Tolstoy, that famed author of War and Peace, Anna Karenina and Resurrection, himself a Christian, had the deepest admiration for Dostoyevsky and his works. It was as if the latter had found the pearl of great price in grace, undeserved favour with God. The former was stuck in the loop of legalism and pressing duty. He had never seen himself as a criminal saved for reasons known only to God.

From the deathbed of Dostoyevsky in 1881, a daughter, Aimee, relates some of the last words: "Have absolute faith in God and never despair of his pardon. I love you dearly, but my love is nothing compared with the love of God. Even if you should be so unhappy as to commit some dreadful crime, never despair of God. You are His children; humble yourselves before Him, as before your father; implore His pardon, and He will rejoice over your repentance, as the father rejoiced over that of the prodigal son.

Crissy is Clean

A weekly entertainment magazine (In Touch) got me looking into the following article. The title of the release was "From Porn to Reborn" and it featured Crissy Moran, 35 year-old former porn star, telling of an encounter with Christ and a total change in life's direction.The decision was made in 2007. A Jacksonville newspaper article tells of the earlier journey into darkness:"It began in a hotel room in Jacksonville. The pretty girl took off her clothes in front of a stranger for the first time and posed for the camera.It was the fall of 1999 and Moran was desperately searching for something. A string of bad break-ups left the 23-year-old office clerk depressed. She'd worked at The Jacksonville Landing's Hooters for a while but found it degrading, after being chastised for not jumping rope or throwing Frisbees to entice customers."I was probably the only one there who wore glasses," she said.

She jumped to a string of jobs at a local retail store, the county clerk of courts then the Supervisor of Elections office. Curious about modeling, she posted bikini snapshots of herself on the Internet.

"People started e-mailing me. It was immediate," she said. "I was enjoying the flattery of being considered for a job."

Though she'd hoped legitimate modeling agents would call, the hotel room shoot instead launched her into the pornography industry. She quit her job and modeled full time. She took jobs in Miami and Los Angeles for Playboy and Hustler. Her bread and butter, though, was online..."

In the article which I read today Crissy spoke of the support, prayers and encouragement received from another woman who ditched the porn industry for Christ. See the site http://iamatreasure.com/tag/harmony-dust/

Crissy's own testimony in that web site contained some very ominous words:

"I put pictures on dating sites because it was hard to meet men since I didn’t have a community of friends. I became reckless with my life. Men were offering to fly me to different states to meet them. In pursuit of love, I allowed myself to be used for sex. During this time I put myself in many dangerous situations, and I won’t lie; there was a part of me that wanted to end up dead. There was also a part of me that thought, maybe someone would actually love me enough to rescue me."

Could the woman's present experience be a real encounter with grace, a real discovery that God the Father is crazy about her and has ordained new paths for a new person? He knows the potential. He knows the honest beauty within. He is not an exploiter or slave-master. He is not keeping score. His Son has simply said, "Follow me", and apparently Crissy has given faith an earnest response.

It is not so easy however to exit from contracts and web-sites which survive her departure. I pray that the woman will continue to receive from above and from the Church the assurance that frees from condemnation. That she will recognize it. That she will feed on the promises of the Book, and see them as the paramount truth. That she will realize that the Song of Solomon speaks about her.

There are many other frightened and confused young women out there who need to hear of Crissy's story. For them the lure of beauty, fame, love, money and attention has also led to dark places and sordid, meaningless liaisons. They need to assess for themselves the sincerity of Crissy's confession and the authenticity of her new-found joy.

Thank you for making all of this public, Crissy, and congratulations. You have found the pearl of great price (Matthew 13). You have the assurance that no man will wrest you from the Father's hand.

That Jonah, Newton...

"I tell ya Chester, that Newton's a Jonah, he is. Temper quick as mercury. Wicked tongue ta shame even my drunken Uncle Tammas. He's no good for tha ship, I fear. Be lookin' fer whales, boy. Be lookin' fer this storm to roise."The other, moving his pipe to the opposite side of the large jaw, mumbled, "Mmmm... Why is it d'ya think that Captin shows 'im such peticular favour? Even afore I came belowdecks he had turned over the helm to John. I've had no fearsome grief from the lad, ceptin' for his dour looks betimes. But still ye could be right, old friend."And above, John Newton gripped the wheel these past forty minutes and noted the coming screech in the rigging. The plaintive growl and roll of the big hull. The wash of water being taken in. The pounding of his own heart.

He had overheard a litle of the "Jonah talk". Had seen the increasing scowls on the faces of men without guile. Men who were loyal and brave, but gravely superstitious. Was he near the end? Were all of them?

After ninety minutes, relief came to peel the rigid hands from the wheel and to slap the back and to push toward the staircase. A dozen paces from his station, a giant surge soaked the deck and hurled John to the rail.

He thought, 'Oh wretched, lost, vile, friendless man that I am'. Hurried below.

In the closeness of his bunk, the others elsewhere on duty, he felt as condemned as the black cargo of despairing souls he had sometimes transported; as far from the love of God or man as that rebellious prophet at the bottom of the sea. Though Newton had never received theretofore any message or mission from on high. But now words and petitions were issuing from his innermost person, and a sense of the presence of God was leading him on and driving the storm from his consciousness.

That night of May 10, 1748, one godless sea-farer received the quickening realization and release of "Amazing Grace". His subsequent message, music and ministry would help end the slave trade in the British Empire; would help many souls of all colours to cast off the shackles of unbelief and trespass.

Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

And grace my fears relieved.

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed.

And She Had to Die?

Many remember the news images of a woman on death-row, clearly a much changed person through the input of the Gospel - Karla Faye Tucker.She was sentenced to death in a Texas prison for murder. During her period in prison she had become a Christian and had a positive ministry to other inmates. In an article about the ministry of the prison chaplain Jim Brazzil in Christianity Today by Virginia Stem Owens, [39] he described how, before her execution, Karla Faye asked to borrow his Bible. He gave it to her while he went to see the warden. When he returned she handed it back without saying anything. Next day, while working on her funeral, he picked up his Bible and flicked it open. There was her message. She had written:"Chaplain/Jim

THANK YOU for bringing the love & fellowship of Jesus to me as I was preparing to be face to face w/Him. You, my precious brother, are hand-picked of God, because of the compassion in your heart, to minister to those who have to walk this road. May the grace and peace of God continue to cover you in a mighty way all of your days!

I love you in Christ

Your Sister, Karla Faye

Ps. 16:11"

Note: I ask in all honesty how the society surrounding her immediatley became a better place on the day following her death? And do not tell me that the sick or incensed or monstrous who kill are at all deterred by these developments.

Allah's Marketplace

The heart and the hunger of Keith Green, singer-prophet of over three decades ago, often put the Church to shame. There is a new release of the song "Let Me Rediscover You" by the group "Downhere". I hope that it gets lots of mileage over the airways. The singer is dry as the song begins, tired of the games and pounding momentum of religion and program. He seeks a new vision and understanding of the Master... a new commissioning. He is done with the "same-old", the strawberry socials; the breakfasts and small talk; the teaching which fattens the flock but never blesses the stranger; the courteous hold on emotion; the thinning use of the name of Jesus; the stultifying of the testimonies of those startled by grace. With familiarity, rigid terms of reference and vain repetition he has put the story of Jesus into a box, and a distorted one.

He feels that he must almost start anew and alone. So few today have the time, patience or interest to do this. But without this process, man by man, woman by woman, life will continue to drain from the assemblies as they become more like theatres and lecture halls and less like Bethany where Jesus so happily visited and bestowed wonders to loving friends.

Let me rediscover you

And breathe in me your life anew.

Tell me of the God I never knew

And let me rediscover you.

(The time had come to step out in freedom, but my love for the Master would not allow it. I wished to remain His and I submitted the lobe of my ear to the mallet and awl. "Nail it to the lintel of the door. Please, now. I will never leave the Master's house; never leave His service. I renounce my own path. I tie my destiny into the Master's."

That had been the decision so many years back. He had watched over me through good times and bad; my family as well. But I consider things now and my understanding of Him. So much that I still do not know. He is so far beyond me. So deep. So constant. While I waiver. Do I bring Him pleasure? Do I get the work done in a manner fitting His nobility? Oh teach me more Master. Bring out what you expect to find in me. I will not settle for the standards of other bondservants here; not even for the steward's.

I am here...alone...waiting.)

Let me rediscover You.

Three Fishermen

We had about an hour to wait for the dinner reservation. I had gone to the bank machine. Hilary sat down in the public square in front of Halifax City Hall and the oldest Anglican Church in the Maritimes.I returned to find her chatting with a man probably in his young seventies and looking a bit like the streets. I joined them on the bench. He was a Cape Bretoner and a long time fisherman on the Grand Banks. A conversation ensued with much interesting detail about life on board, and about some of the perilous seasons and places. Tears came to his eyes remembering some of the past challenges, fears and ship-mates.Obviously all of this had been years before. Next he got to talking about his recent arguments with "the wife". Mostly about drinking. He had moved out. Room and board had become happenstance. At one point he checked himself, obviously surprised at how things had gotten so close to home in our little talk. But we were listening, not appearing awkward, and he was lonely, and feeling burned out.

Soon we just sat together and watched some of the children playing in the square. All in the shadow of the old church. But our restaurant table was beckoning. "The Five Fishermen", across the street. Hilary had already given him some money. Shaking hands, we gave our farewells. We had all been fishing.

Sycamore

Still standing.Beside the main street.Feeling the pulseOf spring rains, The crown of summer, The testing pullOf autumn storms.Children exploreMy limbs and shelter.

Adventurers pass,

Out to new possibilities.

Some, retracing steps

In homeward reunion

Or retreat.

Presently a strange din;

One stalwart man

And His entourage.

Onlookers press in,

Curious and hopeful.

What's this?

Someone scrambles up,

Tugs my extremities,

Scrapes my bark,

Settles,

Balancing to watch.

Much like the children.

(Generations of them.)

I serve their purpose.

I serve his purpose.

Giving the better view.

And the Master looks up,

My Maker.

Issuing the call:

"Zacchaeus, come down.

I will come to your house." (Luke 19: 1-10)

Note: Many a witness accepts rough treatment that others might get a better and redeeming view of Jesus.

Open the Eyes of My Heart

http://youtube.com/watch?v=HD8ZbiReOls

Sweet Hearts of Christ in Rough Packaging: Portrait of Meekness

Pretty Good Sign

How many times have you encountered an individual who is meek, withdrawn, careful with words, observant, courteous, going through a knothole of difficulty?Perhaps in your spirit you hear the suggestion, "That one is on My table. Notice the signs?"You will do well to heed this leading and to pray for him/her. You should also consider affirming this one in whatever way seems appropriate, and without strain or awkwardness. A brief bit of conversation, a smile, a door held open.How often have my wife and I commented that someone noticed appears very close to Gospel light. Of course nothing in our encounters should be brushed off as mere coincidence. God intends to use His servants through words, actions, expressions and demeanour. This Gospel is a very tactile thing. It spreads with the rubbing of shoulders and the pressing of hands. The Book of Acts makes this very clear. It is about being "living epistles". (2 Corinthians 3: 2,3)

I have some difficulty with "scattershot" evangelism. I do not see the imperative to "put it out everywhere", but rather where there is some leading or question asked. Remember Peter's admonition to be 'ready to give a reason to the one that asks'. (1 Peter 3:15)

There are surprises of course. Hilary had an uncle who appeared quite crusty on the outside. A lawyer with bad habits, gruff exterior, cigars and hockey stories. He became seriously ill and hospitalized. My wife felt constrained to travel to Woodstock to visit and to give a testimony. He was surprised at her arrival, and seemingly angry when the matter turned to prayer for his soul. But she pressed on, re-affirmed her love, and was gone. That being a Sunday evening she found a little Pentecostal Assembly in progress and she went in and offered her burden concerning Uncle Lorne. A couple of days later two faithful women also went up to the hospital.

We were surprised to receive a phone call from Lorne 'that the strangest thing had happened. He had found Jesus. He was born again. His physical condition had improved significantly.'

Thereafter we enjoyed several delightful conversations and letters with a new brother in the faith. This one had been anything but obvious on the outside. There were difficult times ahead for him and his family, and he definitely needed the Lord. He had found the fountain.

Well, you might ask, doesn't this apply for everyone? The Cross is big enough for such a task, but God knows "many are called but few are chosen".

Truth Despised

"This born againA phrase of menThat sits not well with me.And all the bloodA cleansing floodThat flows from Calvary?Must each addressHis sinful messAs if to start anew?Will not the priest

And Easter's feast

Suffice to see us through?"

But then a word

My spirit heard

Providing precious light.

'The chicks from eggs,

The tadpole's legs,

The Monarch at first flight.

The fruit from flower,

The rainbow shower,

The acorn, then the tree.'

And truth despised

Met clearer eyes

And set this captive free.

Ezekiel 36:

25Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you.

26A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh.

27And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them.

Christ Journey

See our ebook at the following:

http://issuu.com/deedub51/docs/christ_journey

The Everlasting Mercy

One of my treasures is an old copy of the Collected Poems of John Masefield. He was Britain's poet laureate for a time and perhaps best known for his maritime descriptions and his longer narrative poems. The most outstanding perhaps is "The Everlasting Mercy" (1911), telling the story of a poaching, wenching and pugnacious drunk who discovered Christ. The following is its conclusion:

Slow up the hill the plough team plod,

Old Callow at the task of God,

Helped by man's wit, helped by the brute,

Turning a stubborn clay to fruit,

His eyes forever on some sign

To help him plough a perfect line.

At top of rise the plough team stopped,

The fore-horse bent his head and cropped.

Then the chains chack, the brasses jingle,

The lean reins gather through the cringle,

The figures move against the sky,

The clay wave breaks as they go by.

I kneeled there in the muddy fallow,

I knew that Christ was there with Callow,

That Christ was standing there with me,

That Christ had taught me what to be,

That I should plough, and as I ploughed

My Saviour Christ would sing aloud,

And as I drove the clods apart

Christ would be ploughing in my heart,

Through rest-harrow and bitter roots,

Through all my bad life's rotten fruits.

O Christ who holds the open gate,

O Christ who drives the furrow straight,

O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter

Of holy white birds flying after,

Lo, all my heart's field red and torn,

And Thou wilt bring the young green corn,

The young green corn divinely springing,

The young green corn forever singing;

And when the field is fresh and fair

Thy blessèd feet shall glitter there,

And we will walk the weeded field,

And tell the holden harvests's yield,

The corn that makes the holy bread

By which the soul of man is fed,

The holy bread, the food unpriced,

Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.

The share will jar on many a stone,

Thou wilt not let me stand alone;

And I shall feel (thou wilt not fail),

Thy hand on mine upon the hale.

Near Bullen Bank, on Gloucester Road,

Thy everlasting mercy showed

The ploughman patient on the hill

Forever there, forever still,

Ploughing the hill with steady yoke

Of pine-trees lightning-struck and broke.

I've marked the May Hill ploughman stay

There on his hill, day after day

Driving his team against the sky,

While men and women live and die.

And now and then he seems to stoop

To clear the coulter with the scoop,

Or touch an ox to haw or gee

While Severn stream goes out to sea.

The sea with all her ships and sails,

And that great smoky port in Wales,

And Gloucester tower bright i' the sun,

All know that patient wandering one.

And sometimes when they burn the leaves

The bonfires' smoking trails and heaves,

And girt red flamës twink and twire

As though he ploughed the hill afire.

And in men's hearts in many lands

A spiritual ploughman stands

Forever waiting, waiting now,

The heart's "Put in, man, zook the plough."

By this the sun was all one glitter,

The little birds were all atwitter;

Out of a tuft a little lark

Went higher up than I could mark,

His little throat was all one thirst

To sing until his heart should burst

To sing aloft in golden light

His song from blue air out of sight.

The mist drove by, and now the cows

Came plodding up to milking house.

Followed by Frank, the Callow's cowman,

Who whistled, "Adam was a ploughman."

There came such cawing from the rooks,

Such running chuck from little brooks,

One thought it March, just budding green,

With hedgerows full of celandine.

An otter' out of stream and played,

Two hares come loping up and stayed;

Wide-eyed and tender-eared but bold.

Sheep bleated up from Penny's fold.

I heard a partridge covey call,

The morning sun was bright on all.

Down the long slope the plough team drove

The tossing rooks arose and hove.

A stone struck on the share. A word

Came to the team. The red earth stirred.

I crossed the hedge by shooter's gap,

I hitched my boxer's belt a strap,

I jumped the ditch and crossed the fallow:

I took the hales from farmer Callow.

How swift the summer goes,

Forget-me-not, pink, rose.

The young grass when I started

And now the hay is carted,

And now my song is ended,

And all the summer splended;

The blackbirds' second brood

Routs beech leaves in the wood;

The pink and rose have speeded,

Forget-me-not has seeded.

Only the winds that blew,

The rain that makes things new,

The earth that hides things old,

And blessings manifold.

O lovely lily clean,

O lily springing green,

O lily bursting white,

Dear lily of delight,

Spring my heart agen

That I may flower to men.

Of Caesar's Household

(Taken from The High Calling, Meditations on Philippians by J.H. Jowett, 1909, Fleming H. Revell Company)All the saints salute you, especially they that are of Caesar's household" (Phil. 4:22)"That is a very wonderful thing that the general river of Christian courtesy should be flowing from the hard precincts of imperial lust and tyranny... Here is a clean, clear river streaming out of the very centre of a poisonous swamp. Here is a sweet spring lifting its healthful waters in the bitter waste. Here is a white lily spreading its radiant purity above a very noisome bed. This is the kind of miracle to arrest and startle the world. Goodness in unexpected places!...A commissioner of one of our great London dailies has recently been exploring some of the awful howling wastes of London's slums. He went into one court, and up one terrible flight of stairs, where gin and sweat and swearing and putridity were horribly commingled, and in the very thick of it all he heard a woman's sweet, clear, triumphant voice singing, "We thank Thee, O our Father, for all things bright and good." Yes, and the commissioner discovered that she was a saint indeed. But how adverse the environment. Where did the lovely fern find even the requisite pinch of friendly earth? God knows, and he provided it. It seems as though God's plants can laugh at circumstances, that they can sink strange roots right through their immediate setting, and reach such marvelous resources that their inhospitable environment counts for nothing."

Spiritual Care to Mentally Ill

Recently I watched Craig Rennebohm's video on You Tube. I believe that he is deeply convinced of the value of every inner person. He is fascinated and hopeful in the balanced combination of various disciplines to serve mentally ill "consumers/clients".

If asked as a chaplain to enumerate the non-negotiables in presenting a healthy faith foundation, (I believe) he might use the following: 1) God is good. 2) God is involved. 3) God may be consulted. 4) God is not responsible for all that hurts. 5) God is especially tender to the broken and contrite. 6) God wants you in some community of faith and nurture. 7) God finds no person more worthy than others of the benefits of Christ's passion and resurrection. 8) Jesus understands human suffering. I liked particularly his image of standing beside the consumer and facing the world together, and in the simple day-to-day. The mentally ill are usually so terribly down on themselves, and they need the affirmation and simple sounding-board. The sense of a partner. He spoke of a Belgian faith community that simply welcomed the mentally ill into households who attended a particular assembly and all got involved in some aspect of service. Nothing extraordinary in the consumer's contribution. How wonderful just to be "normal" in this.

I heard the speaker deal a lot with what to do, what to prioritize, how to comfort. I did not hear anything on what to present. He was entirely secretive on his spin on the Gospel and the simple capability of the life of Christ to revivify. He was so respectful of traditions that he neglected the man Christ Jesus in his presentation. Now here comes the touchy point. The chaplain should not just be another comfort pillow. We know clearly that the Gospel first wounds and then binds up. Newton's hymn reminds us that Grace first teaches the heart to fear and then relieves those fears, unto everlasting peace. This must be the really difficult part of chaplaincy (to be honest with the Gospel, but at the same time constantly hopeful and reassuring). Many medical practitioners would be happy with a syncretic presentation of God minus the Four Gospels. Present a band-aid solution. Skip the surgery. These people are just too delicate after all. Well at another point these caregivers say that we must treat the consumers as normally as possible. (sucking and blowing?)

I remember reading a book by Corrie Ten Boom (Common Sense Not Needed). Very small and very simple; dealing with some of her pastoral encounters with the "feeble-minded". Her stories indicated that issues of honesty, repentance, restitution, apology, brotherhood, giving and forgiving were not foreign to these people. They could deal with them and triumph. The Holy Spirit played a role in illuminating them to spiritual concepts.

Suffer Little Children

Children bound to toil and tears.Thought the shame of former years.Woe, the heart that never hears.Some are fettered still.Children bent to rake and hoe;Torn from play by plague's death-throe.Scratching dust to make it grow.Some are fettered still.

Children weighed with coat and gun;

Warlord's whims to serve and run.

Mocking death ere day is done.

Some are fettered still.

Children pulled from Mother's breast;

Mother, back to work impressed.

Hurried plans leave them no rest.

Some are fettered still.

Children made the sport of night;

Pawns of lust, but out of sight.

Forced by fiends who once seemed right.

Some are fettered still.

Children never taught to pray;

Taught to live Redemption's way.

Starving souls with Hell to pay.

Some are fettered still.

Children bound to toil and tears.

Thought the shame of former years.

Woe, the heart that never hears.

Some are fettered still.

Obsequious

That's the word that the topical Bible used concerning Mephibosheth the crippled son of Jonathan and grandson of Saul. The story is told in 2 Samuel 9:8And he bowed himself, and said, What is thy servant, that thou shouldest look upon such a dead dog as I am?Mephibesheth could not imagine that he held a place of favour with King David, but such is the strength of covenant, a blood covenant cut between David and Jonathan for the life-long support of each other's families. This bond of love and of promise caused David to overlook all of the struggle which he had suffered at the hands of Saul. His only desire was to bless the one who was cringing before him.

The dictionary defines the curious word "obsequious" as having a servile deference to or fawning, slavish attitude toward a superior. There is a pathetic shortcoming of relationship in this. The one in leadership should desire honest, courteous, open-faced partnership.

Certainly Jesus was and is such a leader, or Elder Brother. In holiness circles, it seems to me, that we confuse submission with the "groveling posture". We go on about our unworthiness, when all the while the Lord is expecting us to take and to act upon our inheritance. It was bought with the tremendous price of Calvary. Our pathetic and somewhat insincere shows of humility are out of line. Certainly we owe Jesus everything, but the message of grace is "Step up to the table. Enjoy it. Grow in usefulness with it. Give earnest thanks. You are family."

I like what Jesus said to His disciples in the Upper Room in John 15:

15Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant knoweth not what his lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you.

16Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you.

Recently I heard a jubilant song with a chorus which is worth repeating here:

I am a friend of God.

I am a friend of God.

I am a friend of God.

He calls me, "Friend".

My Chest Got Excited

This morning on a re-broadcast of a James Dobson radio program I heard a most interesting testimonial from an upper Amazon tribal chief named "Shoemaker". (Yanomamo tribe.)This man in a clicking dialect spoke through an American missionary and friend to give an account of his journey to Christ. Presently the majority of his village are Christian. Coming from a culture of violence, drug abuse, tribal raids, brutal sports, feats of endurance, abuse of women and children and overwhelming involvement in witchcraft.Shoemaker acknowledged that he had studied the arts of the shaman to gain power and advantage in this violent society. A senior shaman encouraged him to become a heavy drug user and to spend hours chanting for the arrival and input of evil spirits. Entire nights were given to this process and he began to have visions which were both seductive and terrifying.A sick uncle called for his healing power, but he found that the more he chanted the closer the man got to death. The uncle did not recover. Other villagers suffering malnutrition, malaria and other diseases called for his help. He met with only mixed success. But the sensations of the trances, visions and notoriety kept him at it. He found that this ministration caused him to hate the patients and their infirmities. No compassion there.

Bottom line, he knew that these practices were wicked and in direct conflict with the influences of a great and good Spirit in Heaven. He said that all shamans know this. He was addicted in so many evil ways. He also knew that he was courting death.

A missionary family arrived in very humble circumstances. They launched into helping wherever possible around the village. They had bouts of sickness and hunger. He saw both children and parents crying occasionally about the straightness of their lives.

Shoemaker began to have conversations with the pastor, hearing of that greatest of all Spirits, Jesus. The pastor assured that the slate of sins and demonic bondage could be wiped clean. Shoemaker stated, "my chest got excited".

A struggle of conviction and hope followed for a few days, and then the weary man went out into the jungle, found himself an old dead-fall tree for a resting place and cried out to Jesus for deliverance. Immediately he had a vivid vision in which he seemed to be surrounded by a fascinating cage. A major demon approached him, laughing and inviting him to dance. Shoemaker tried in every way to avoid his advances, and finally and inarticulately cried out to Jesus.

He testifies that he saw the Lord and observed Him facing off with the demon and commanding him to "go from this brother and never to return". The release was swift and total. Everything about this man's highly tuned spiritual nature told him that he had indeed been rescued by indomitable goodness.

Two weeks before Shoemaker's visit to the States, a telling episode had occurred in his village. Four men had gone hunting on the river, and one was grabbed by an anaconda. With every exhalation of the victim, the snake tightened its choking death hold. The man passed out. Finally one of his friends got up the nerve to swing his machete. Once. Twice. Thrice. A dull weapon. But finally with backbone severed the snake fell limp. Over the next few minutes the three were able to revive their friend.

"And that, my American friends was the death grip evil spirits had on me. I will never experience that again. Praise to Jesus."