The Age To Come

This is the third of three articles authored by ‘UnderTheRadar’ over at Revival School.

It seems to me that there are two opposite ways of misunderstanding Gods’ heart for us; on one side there is the fat arrogance of the prosperity gospel and the Me-centred pseudochristianity, but on the other the dry evisceration of the ascetic who does not understand Gods’ generous and loving heart. He is Life, and Life in all of its fullness and richness. This story speaks of this Life.

One eagerly anticipated afternoon, a wide-eyed little girl crouched on the floor, struggling with her shoes. She was the image of a baby doll, adorned in ruffles and lace. Her hair fell softly to her shoulders and framed her rosy cherub cheeks. She was no more than eight or nine and was attempting to give her new patent leather shoes a spit shine. Suddenly she began to giggle, catching a glimpse of herself in the reflection from her shoes. Quietly, her Father approached her, not wanting to interrupt this cherished moment. Even when she couldn’t see His face or hear His footsteps, somehow, she always knew when her Father was near. Slightly embarrassed, she brushed the hair from her face and stood erect. “I’m ready now!” she shyly remarked. Inwardly she chided herself, because she had not been ready on time. After all, she had carelessly wasted those few moments with her own amusement. “I love you so very much!” her Daddy beamed.

Bounding down the steps to their car, she clasped her Father’s hand. There was such comfort to be found in every line and every curve of His palm. If she had to, she could distinguish her Father’s hands from all others, even in the dark. Before He climbed into the vehicle, He grabbed the mail from the mailbox. Her report card was in the stack. Upon His opening the envelope, she peeked over His shoulder and spotted four A’s and one C. Cowering now, she slumped into her seat. If she could only hide, she thought. “Have I remembered to tell you how precious you are to me?” her Father said, as the car pulled away from the driveway.

Exceeding all her expectations, the incredible sight of circus tents and arcades came into view. Her heart pounded within her. “Just Daddy and me.”, she mused to herself. He had promised her a day that she would never forget. As her feet touched the pavement, there was a familiar aroma in the air; although she couldn’t quite place it. Drawing closer to the scent, she saw the cotton candy machine, whirling and spinning to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Secretly, she treasured cotton candy, as if it were spun gold. Her mouth watered with anticipation. “But, my fingers will become too sticky to hold Daddy’s hand.” she thought to herself. So, desiring to please only her Daddy, she turned and walked away.

Upon diverting her gaze, she noticed a young boy, leaning against the confection stand. His face was drenched in perspiration and she could sense the burning in the muscles of his forearms, since he had hobbled all day long on aluminum crutches. Staring directly into his eyes, she began to cry. “Oh, Daddy, Daddy.” she sobbed, “We have so much. Could we please help this little boy?” Smiling broadly, He nodded. Possessing great wealth, the Father sought out the child’s parents and gave generously to them. So much so, that they were able to afford an electric wheelchair. Gently, caressing His daughter’s face, He said, “How very much I adore you!”

The intimacy of this moment was interrupted by a melody of coins, dancing on glass. The sound was coming from a game of chance being played at the booth next to her. The sun glistened against slick glass plates, as coins bounced and spun and slid from her view. She was fascinated by the whole event and fixed her eyes on the prize, the huge cuddly bunny, which hung auspiciously above her. “How lovely that bunny would be in the corner of my room!” she thought. Yet, she would never consider frivolously spending her Father’s money in this way. Surely, His money could be put to better use.

All at once, the sun bounced rudely off a wall of mirrors, blinding her sight momentarily. Rubbing her eyes, she spied a little girl, who was a few years older than she. She was sobbing, staring in the mirror at a scar that had marred the beauty of her face. The daughter pleaded, “Father, I saw such lovely bonnets over near the roller coaster. If that little girl could have a new hat, she might forget her sadness.” Kissing her on the cheek, He remarked, “You are my beloved child!”

As the harsh afternoon sun yielded to dusk, the lights of the Ferris wheel began to twinkle against the deepening hue of the skyline. The thought of dangling fearlessly atop this mesmerizing contraption took her breath away. Children’s screams, like icy fingertips, waltzed up her spine. Tears welled up in her eyes, as she became enthralled by its speed and grace.

Abruptly, she came to her senses, “Daddy wants to leave before dark!” she remembered. Immediately, she ran to His side not wanting to waste one precious second with her tardiness. Without warning, something brushed past her in a blur of soft brown fur. A carelessly neglected puppy hesitated just a few feet beyond her and stared knowingly into her compassionate eyes. “Daddy could we give him a home?” she asked, “I promise I will take very good care of him.” With her Daddy’s approval, she scooped the puppy up in a warm embrace and softly cradled him all the way to the car. “You are the apple of My eye!” her Father remarked with a smile.

Caught in the glow of the moment, the daughter never paused to hear her Father’s deafening silence. Neither did she turn to notice the quiet river of tears slipping gently down his cheeks. All day long she tried to be good, desperately needing to please her Father. She even denied herself many small pleasures, in order to achieve this goal. Realizing that the evening was sliding swiftly from her grasp, she reached for the warmth and comfort of His hand. She was stunned to find her Father’s hand trembling like a frightened child’s. Glancing upward, she saw His face and she began to weep. She shrank at the very thought of His displeasure.

His voice, as soft as velvet and as thunderous as a sonic boom, ruptured the night air. Although whispering with tender affection, He spoke with great power and majesty. “I long to gather you, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings.” He cried longingly. “I love you for the smudge on your rosy red cheeks and for your knobby knees and for the warmth of your smile and for the way you skip with a rope and for the manner in which you laugh with your eyes and for the passion in your heart and for so much more than I could ever express in words. I love you, because you are bone of My bone and flesh of My flesh. Every time you look into the mirror, you are faced with the image of Deity, because you are the very heart of My heart. Daughter, you are My beloved child, in whom I am well pleased.” He pleaded passionately with a trembling voice.

Reaching His hands out to her, revealing only His palms, she began to remember why her Father’s hands were so unmistakable. She had forgotten the scars, so painfully evident, now bathed in radiant moonlight. He began speaking with extreme seriousness, “You see My child, because of these wounds, You and I may share cotton candy and a ride on the Ferris wheel and a frivolous moment and a walk in the moonlight and a dance under the stars and a good novel and a nap by the fire and a gentle hug and a quiet kiss. It’s all of these things that I really miss. Come walk with Me, as I once walked so long ago in the garden. Let’s stroll in the morning mist and revel in each other’s company. May we whisper about things that have no great significance, except to make us both laugh aloud. May the joy of the moment supercede the woes of this world for one fleeting instant. Although the world moves on without missing a beat, may our hearts beat in unison to the beat of another rhythm and another drum. And though our hearts are united in the understanding of the importance of My purpose, may time stand still long enough to allow me to peer into your eyes and see them sparkle in the pale moonlight. May I caress your face and kiss your cheek for no other reason, than I surrendered My life for that very privilege. This is My greatest joy and desire; that We may share in the simple pleasures of life, you and I. Expose yourself to a child-like vulnerability and allow Me the honor of guarding, protecting and loving you, as any Father would desire to do. Hear the cry of My heart. wipe the tears from My eyes.”

The Warrior is a Child
By Twila Paris

Lately I’ve been winning battles left and right,
But even winners can get wounded in the fight.
People say that I’m amazing, strong beyond my years;
But they don’t see inside of me; I’m hiding all the tears.

Chorus:

They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down.
They don’t know who picks me up when no one is around.
Drop my sword and cry for just a while,
‘Cause deep inside this armor,
The warrior is a child.

Unafraid, because His armor is the best;
But even soldiers need a quiet place to rest.
People say that I’m amazing, never face retreat;
But they don’t see the enemies that lay me at His feet.

Chorus:

They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down.
They don’t know who picks me up when no one is around.
Drop my sword and, look up for a smile
‘Cause deep inside this armor,
The warrior is a child.

This is the second of three articles authored by ‘UnderTheRadar’ over at Revival School.

Down in the valley, in the middle of a dream, there were wonderful flowers blooming.
Down by the river, by the eddies flowing in endless succession;
there were beautiful blossoms dropping their petals into the icy cold waters below.
Growing around the mouth of the river, were artistic displays of patterns and colors in vast array,
dancing in an ever-graceful episode all their own.

And who would have known that there were none to see it …
or hear it or smell its fragrance and its unusual aroma?
Who would have understood the sadness at capturing its beauty in a dream, for none to share?
How sad to take in its beauty without the joy of giving it away.

Dreams are so elusive, giving us so much passion without including our loved ones.
Dreams are such gentle giants, stealing our hearts without sounding an alarm that wakens those around us.
There are dreams that capture our very essence and steal us away, into another time and place.
And in that time and place, we are swept away by our own amazing journey into the unknown.

Somebody tell me, can you come with me?
For where I am going, I am alone.
And alone, in the midst of the dream, I am intimately aware of Your presence,
like a fragrance I’ve never known, beckoning me to come closer and closer to Your heart.
And Your heart is so full of life and hope and passion, I am lost in Your embrace.
Sacred moments like these can only be found on my knees
and my knees are too soft from sitting, to give me the strength that I need.
Down on my knees where the river runs free,
I am lost in the solitude that beckons me further than I have ever gone.
Create in me a clean heart, O’ God, and renew a right spirit within me
or I will faint from the passion that engulfs me from head to toe and swallows my very being.

You are my Rock, my Strength, my Shield and my ever-present help in time of trouble.
You are my Prince of peace and more than I have ever dreamed.
And if You will permit me, I will insist that You come with me,
to the places in my heart that have been vacant of Your presence.
And I will allow you access, where access has been denied, just because You have asked me.
And You will find fallow ground behind the portals of my soul, where none has ever trod.
And You will be given time to plow the ground and invest in something that has lain dormant.
And You will have Your way with me, where determination has been my only friend.
And You will give Your heart to me, unreservedly, for I know that taking You there is only the beginning.
And in the beginning of the sunrise of my life, I will pause and reflect at the beauty of Your Majesty,
the richness of Your Glory,
the value of Your Presence
and I will bow and kneel before My King.

Have you ever seen the Sonrise in a man’s soul?
Have you ever captured the thought that there are no other answers than Him?
Have you ever reminded yourself that so many questions could be put aside in the Glory of His presence?
His presence is all you need in the long run.
It is the very answer to every question.
It is His presence that manifests itself in our lives to give us hope for the future.
It is the rain in our souls that waters the fallow ground and allows seedlings to take root.
And it is another dimension of time and space, where time stands still and space is only an illusion.
It is a summary of our lives and a witness against us of our sin
and a gentle tug that reminds us that He is our sacrificed Lamb.

He is our Father, the caretaker of our hearts and souls.
He is our Redeemer, buying the freedom we hold so dearly.
He is our open Door to the future and the future is only a heartbeat away.
He is our undying ecstasy, the celebration of our lives played out in mercy and grace.
He is our answer to every question and every question takes on a whole new meaning with Him.
He is a loveable laughable child, a pauper and a king,
In His eyes is the radiance that transforms me and surrounds my very being.
In his heart are the answers that unearth me and take me where I don’t want to go,
but He takes me to places that make me grow.
And if you could hear His heartbeat and hear Him breathe,
you would know that you are hearing His kindness and compassion and His sensitivity.
He is all you need to survive,
all you need to be alive,
all you need to live a life well-lived,
all you have to afford is His free gift.

Over the next few days I am going to repost three articles authored by ‘UnderTheRadar’ over at Revival School. I found them all thought provoking and a blessing, and I thought you might too. Here is the first, the original can be found here.

Time, time, time… time is of the essence. There is not enough of it to go around. Every free moment is spoken for and before we’ve had a chance to catch our breath, another day has passed rudely behind us. There aren’t enough hours in the day to complete every task. There aren’t enough minutes in the hour to carefully and effectively address each issue. Where have the years gone? How did they slip away so casually, almost without notice? Time is taking its toll, literally running the show. I would raise my fist and curse the cause of my frustration, but the moments would continue to tick away in cruel defiance.

Some would say that ours is a race against time, marked by our speed and agility in reference to reaching our destination. What then is the measure of our achievement and success? Presumably, our pace must be gauged by those competitors, whom we’ve overtaken, and those we hope to surpass. This is not a contest of endurance, but of skill and prowess. The destination is no longer the focus, but our position with reference to our opponents. Speed becomes the primary objective. Everything else is sacrificed, for the higher claim of speed. Speed is obtained through practice and diligence, pain and effort, discipline and the desire for success. Though many eventually reach their final destination, some may be regarded with disdain, because the only standard of achievement is how meritoriously each contestant has placed.

Clearly ours is not a contest against time, but a race measured by distance; the distance between the pursuer and the pursued. Life is not a test of our ability, but His timeless search for evidence of our hunger to know Him in all of His meekness and majesty. Time is of the essence, only when it’s wasted on meaningless pursuits, defeating our own purpose. Is there a higher cause or a greater goal than the intimacy of His Holy presence? We cannot reclaim lost time nor recycle it. Nonetheless, it only takes an instant to narrow the gap of intimacy that a lifetime of indifference has created.

How many moments are spent in devotion, service and even ministry, unaware that He stands in our midst? How often have we poured over His Word in concentrated study, unaware of the warmth of His breath on our brow? So often we unburden our hearts to Him in agonizing prayer, not noticing His lips gently caressing our cheek. So many intimate moments are lost in our vain attempts to impress Him. The Father of all creation, all that is holy, rare and precious, is not easily impressed. Our good works do not impress Him. We are His workmanship. Our eloquent prayers do not move Him, but the cry of hunger in our hearts does.

He is a pauper indeed, void of all the riches He died to reclaim. The Wealth of intimacy, a priceless embrace, and all those things that He cherishes and holds dear are so often denied Him. Our destitute Father cries out in despair. Who will take authority over His enemy, the empty longing in His heart? Who will fill His cup and unburden His heart and wipe the tears from His eyes?

Time is not the master of our souls; nevertheless, it yields to no one, but the precious Holy Spirit. Has He truly miscalculated the hours in one day that we so frequently come up short; or is it conceivable that we are lacking the wisdom of discerning those things that have lasting value and eternal consequence? Considering our time constraints, we graciously allot Him a spare moment in our busy schedule. Mercifully, He provides the next breath that we breathe and our next heartbeat, with no consideration of time and space. Have we so quickly forgotten that obedience is better than sacrifice? (1 Sam 15:22, Micah 6:6) Does He desire our sacrificial offerings or our hearts sacrificed on the altar of His mercy and grace? Does He prefer our service and our efforts to please Him or our deep burning desire to see His face and hear His gentle voice?

There is a river that flows from the very throne of God and it will spill into every avenue of our life and every second of our day, if we do not hinder its refreshing flow. Its compelling current will move us to places, the likes of which we’ve never even dreamed. The crystalline waters will clarify our vision to reveal the Father’s heart. Our desires will yield to His desires, uncovering those intents and purposes, which flow from obedience, rather than a desire to serve Him. It is a river of love that will etch His signature into everything that we attempt. It will breathe the very breath of life into every spoken word. It will flood the common and mundane with the miraculous. May I reiterate? It originates at His throne of mercy and grace. Not difficult to find, neither is it too arduous to access, it is but a heartbeat away. Dare we believe? Dare we receive it? Glory and majesty, wisdom and power reside in the Father’s heart. We will see it in His eyes, if we will but fall prostrate before His throne, in insatiable hunger, to seek His face.

I’d much recommend a visit to Homeward Bound. Most edifying and insightful.

More from me later today hopefully….