Our High Priest

I am troubled by what I see these days of Kingdom Now attitudes challenging the Church. There is a new kind of citizen, they say, on the planet, neither Jew nor Gentile, but rather Kingdom worker.

This person purportedly has been redeemed by the blood of Calvary, indwelt by the Spirit and is exercising remarkable gifts to bring to completion the agenda of Jesus. He is not looking for the imminent return of the Saviour in glory, because his community must first win the battle of correcting this world in righteousness. Use politics if necessary. Then and only then will Jesus arrive to take the reins.

At first blush the ambition of it all sounds admirable. Better to be working in obedience to Matthew 25 than to be found idle, cloud gazing on the “rapture watch”. It is flattering to think that we might literally be the hands, voice and power of Jesus bringing His Kingdom to fruition.

Sorry friends, although redeemed, we are still made of the “flesh stuff” which fell in the Garden. Our challenge is to lean more on the sweet influences of the Spirit and thereby to have our minds renewed day by day, walking out a living likeness to the Gospels.

The ultimate victory will only come as forecast in Ephesians 5: 27:

“That he (Christ) might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.”

This full “cleaning up of the fish” is only accomplished at the time of His miraculous gathering of His own:

1 John 3:2 - Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.

I tremble when I consider the description of Jesus’ present day ministry in the mind-set of Kingdom Now. Jesus has become the mystical head of the Kingdom Now Body. They say that the only Jesus one will get to see or hear now is the sum total of the corporate members. In effect they are deputizing many little gods.

Here they are messing with the trinity, as difficult a concept as it might be. They are denying that the glorified God-Man, forever liberated from death, our wonderful High Priest is seated at the right hand of the Father, constantly making intercession for us, and preparing even now for the glorious reunion. (Mark 16: 19; Acts 7: 56; Romans 8: 34; 1 Corinthians 15: 24-26; Philippians 3: 21; Hebrews 1: 3; Hebrews 7: 24, 25; Hebrews 12: 2; Psalm 110: 1)

Beware. Without Him we can do nothing.

Lazarus

Is there news of his arrival?
Have they seen him on the way?
How we need his hand of healing,
How we need his strength to pray!
Yet this waiting, wretched waiting,
While our brother slips away.

Was the message given promptly?
Was he begged to make all speed?
Was he told our fears for Lazarus?
Was he made to see our need?
Oh be coming, please be coming,
Jesus, hasten! Intercede!

Down the road at last, his figure,
But alas, then much too late.
“Had you been a little sooner,
Lord, you might have changed his fate.
But our brother, precious brother
Has already passed death’s gate.”

Then he asked that we might take him
To the place where Lazarus slept;
And we passed through friends and family,
All who tearful vigil kept;
And we heard the Master groaning.
And we watched as Jesus wept.

At the tomb door, still our champion,
Praying through our wicked doubt,
He addressed the bitter fact of death
With victory and a shout;
There the Master, still the Master,
Crying, “Lazarus, come out!”

And the place of death was shaken
By the challenge which he hurled.
And the soul of him once taken
Was recovered to our world.
Thank you Jesus for our brother!
And the graveclothes were unfurled.

How I pale now at the memory
Of my thoughts and words of fear,
And of pitiful self-pity
Which would deem Christ insincere.
He was caring, deeply caring,
Ever strong and ever near.

He had purpose in delaying
Which was far beyond our view;
And when everything seemed lost he proved
Both trustworthy and true
To a mighty love that neither
Grave nor death could e’er subdue.

Loaves and Fishes

The crowd had his blessing,
The desert place too.
The teaching refreshed like the early morn's dew.
The sun now was setting,
The homeward trip long.
And Jesus took pity upon the dear throng.

He’d given them wisdom,
He’d given them power,
He’d spoken the Word of God hour after hour.
And not a one waivered
At what he had said.
Their spirits still hungry, their flesh needing bread.

And so he had sent us
To gather up food;
To feed the five thousand, his dear foster brood.
And doubting, we set out
To meet the appeal,
But I of the twelve alone spotted a meal.

“What have you got, Andrew?
Bring it to me.
Fetch your resources, lad, that we might see,
How now the multitude
All will be fed.
Gifts from a faithful lad, fishes and bread.”

Sheepishly I conveyed
What I had found.
How could this boy’s treat be passed all around?
Look at their numbers, Lord.
Look at this snack.
How now will plenty be made from such lack?

Then from my hands he took
All that I had.
Two little fishes, five loaves from the lad;
Blessed them and broke them
And called us to share
Portions abounding with all gathered there!

Now where it all came from
Not one of us knew,
But faith’s little offering just grew and it grew,
Once given to Jesus
To meet the demand,
With blessing surpassing what men could have planned.

What have you got, Andrew,
Bring it to me.
Time or resources, your own ministry.
Give without sparing.
Leave all in my care
And find it sufficient with ample to spare.

Note: What an image is here! The food blessed, broken and distributed. The same is true of Christ's life. Will it be true of ours?

At the Summit

The eyesight still is dazzled
And the thinking not too clear,
And the three of us amazed, Lord,
That you ever brought us here.
For the stillness of the setting
And the call to join in prayer,
Neath the vastness and the freshness
Of the silent mountain air,
Gave no warning of the wonders ,
Lord, that you would have us share,

As we drifted into comfort,
You had moved to yonder space,
And the fervency of prayer, Lord,
Soon came gleaming from your face!
How this stirred us from our drifting,
From our flagging in the fight,
As alone, atop that mountain
We were stricken with the sight
Of your face, you clothes, your person,
All awash with inner light!

Not alone now, but in session
With some other-worldly men.
Were they Moses? And Elijah?
Sent to you? To earth again?
How could we so undeserving,
Dare to look upon them so?
Or to catch their words of courage?
We just had to see, to know.
There were you, the Law, the Prophets
And the summit all aglow!

Then as quickly, they had vanished
And the power began to fade,
And our brother muttered out
That some memorial be made:
“You have walked and talked with Moses
At this heady, holy height.
You have shared prayer with Elijah;
Been transfigured in the light.
We must fashion some mementos.
Surely that would be alright!”

But no sooner had he spoken,
Than a brilliant cloud appeared,
Which engulfed us in its glory.
Falling on our face, we feared.
And a voice not heard by mortals
To our impudence decreed:
“This is my belov’ed offspring.
Hear ye him and him ye heed.”

James' Farewell Song

Galilee,
A strange new urge sweeps over me
A pull now stronger than the sea,
And I a son of Zebedee,
With ships and gear reserved for me,
With knowledge of rich fishery,
Through years of wooing azure sea,
Now casting off my bark for free
To follow Christ who beckons me …
Oh Galilee.

Galilee,
The gentle hills surrounding thee
Resound with news of folk set free;
Of sicknesses healed instantly,
Of torment turned to sanity,
Of guilt and shame absolved for free;
All this our privilege to see,
And Christ reserves a job for me?
And to his course I will agree.
Have you now lost your hold on me,
Oh Galilee?

Galilee,
Your moods can change so suddenly,
One moment calm as calm can be,
The next one pitching dreadfully,
Our small craft swamped with foaming sea,
While Jesus sleeps aft peacefully.
We’ve reefed and bailed in vain ‘gainst thee,
Safe harbour but a reverie.
Has Christ’s call brought this storm to me?
Is this your plan to reclaim me,
Oh Galilee?

Galilee,
What strange deep evil lurks in thee,
Provoking now to jealousy?
What raging winds and waves I see,
Where once you rolled so peacefully.
At last, Christ rises to our plea
And mounts the prow where all might see;
Commanding you to let us be!
Commanding such tranquility!
Displaying his supremacy!
Oh Galilee.

Galilee,
For years you lured me out to sea,
Bewitching inconsistency;
Your song, your spray, your scent to me
Were tokens of some deity,
Some Mother Nature thought to be
The essence of eternity,
Yet somehow fickle, fancy-free.
But now I see, Christ masters thee, oh Galilee;
No other helmsman now for me, oh Galilee;
And from your charms I am set free, oh Galilee.


MATTHEW 4: 21, 22, 23 - And going on from thence, he saw other two brethren, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in a ship with Zebedee their father, mending their nets; and he called them. And they immediately left the ship and their father, and followed him. And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness and all manner of disease among the people.

With Mary At His Feet

I cannot beat the trails,
Or trim the wind-taut sails,
Or pitch a camp beside the dusty road.
I cannot tame the crowd,
Or reprimand the proud,
Or offer strength to bear your heavy load.

I have a woman’s heart,
And play a woman’s part,
Attending to the tasks of house and fare.
I hunger for some way,
Some gesture just to say,
I love you Jesus, and I truly care.

You’ve shown us so much life
And spared us all your strife,
Retreating from our home to pour your heart
Out in the hills of prayer,
To meet your Father there,
To gain His strength before you must depart.

I grieved your love before,
When you had planned much more
Than simply curing Lazarus’ ill health.
I wept that you came late,
That you would hesitate,
But you were bringing resurrection wealth!

And here we are again
At table with you, friend,
And I can sense the heaviness of sin
Weighs doubly on you now,
As you reflect on how
The final ministry will soon begin.

The ointment in my hand,
A rare and precious brand,
Seems all I have right now of worth to share.
And so I wash your feet
With fragrance rich and sweet,
And wipe them clean and dry with my long hair.

I know this is not waste,
Though Judas jeers with haste:
“The money could have gone to feed the poor!”
But you have read my heart,
My urge to play some part
In love’s anointing ere you reach death’s door.

Again I’m at your side,
While others harp and chide:
“There’s much work to be done, no time to rest.”
But here your eyes meet mine
In fellowship divine,
Assuring that in this I share your best!

MARK 14: 8, 9
She hath done what she could: she is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.

The Shantyman

It is good to toil
With the men I know;
And to trim the trees
And to lay them low;
And to haul their bulk
To the stream below;
I am glad that the Lord sent me here.

And from time to time
When the mood is right,
In the vaulted wood
With its dappled light;
Where the bluejay’s flash
Quickens shrill and bright;
I can sense that the Lord meets me here.

There’s a constant strain
From the whistle call;
As we scale the heights
Making giants fall;
And we swing our steel
And our chain and maul.
And I know that the men test me here.

But the dusk does come,
And the campfires burn;
And the grub is good,
And our thoughts will turn
To the ones at home,
And for those we yearn;
But for weeks we must still labour here.

Yet another time
The alarm will sound;
That a trunk has split;
That a man is downed.
And like mother birds
We all gather ‘round.
And I sense they are glad I am here.

Then the Sabbath day
Brings some extra rest;
And a few will come,
And by that I’m blessed;
And we search the Book,
And I share Christ’s best;
For the Lord of the harvest is here.

Oh shantymen sing!
In the golden field;
In the fishing hull;
In the mineshaft’s yield;
In the factory’s pulse;
Sing of grace revealed;
And the joy of the Lord finds us here.


Note: Canada recalls many work situations in which humble servants of the Gospel got into the workplace, rubbed shoulders, earned trust and simply prayed and helped.

Thomas Gets It Right

Oh, the sting of my reluctance,
Ever doubting Jesus’ words!
Had I not been in that dry place
Where he fed the hungry hordes?
Had I not been there at Bethany
As Lazarus left the tomb?
Had I not been in the Lord’s High Feast
Within that Upper Room?

Oh, the shame of my denial
At the news of Easter-tide.
Was it crucial that I test truth
With my hand thrust in Christ’s side?
Was I so bound to five senses
As to claim the others erred?
Was I so steeped in self-pity
As to doubt if Jesus cared?

But Christ came by special measure
Just to put Thomas at rest;
And he offered up his body
For my eyes and hands to test.
It was true, my Lord had risen;
How my spirit was relieved;
Yet I know of greater blessing
Had I, seeing not, believed.

Oh, the joy down at the seaside
In that breakfast with the Lord,
As he fed our hunger and our faith,
While Peter was restored
To a confidence that Jesus
Knew his love for him ran deep;
To a challenge and a hope of
Fruitful years feeding Christ’s sheep.

Oh, the promise as he left us
In his bright ascension hour,
Of baptism in the Holy Ghost
With fire and with power.
Then the angels’ bless’d assurance
As Christ left our dry terrain,
That in this same way from Heaven’s clouds,
He would return again!

My Lord and my God! I shall believe with faith’s eyes now!

Mary Magdalene's Song

Just one word,
Yet it released me
From the heaviest dismay,
In the resurrection garden
Where I heard my Saviour say
Just one word: “Mary”.

Just one soul,
So undeserving,
And besieged by demon power;
Now become his little garden
And expected yet to flower.
Just one soul: Mary.

Just one gift,
Has changed the history
Of the followers of Christ.
Bless’ed blood’s redemption mystery,
We need never pay sin’s price.
Just one gift: Calvary.

Just one hope
To light the future,
And the world must know it yet,
Ere the lover of the sinner
Treads again on Olivet.
Just one hope: Jesus.

Just one life
Now worth the living,
And its thrill will never wane.
Bearing witness to his rising
And his coming back again.
Just one life: Jesus.


JOHN 20: 15, 16
Jesus saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rabboni; which is to say, Master.

Nicodemus By Night

In the evening I approached him,
In the secrecy of night;
For I knew that he was wisdom,
And I knew that he was right;
And I knew he held the answers
And was guided by the light.
So I came to Jesus just to get it straight.

I had power in the Council
And was held in high esteem,
But I sensed the Jews had missed it,
Missed Jehovah’s grander scheme;
With our rules and regs ad nauseum,
Lost the sight of mercy’s theme.
So I came to Jesus when my hour was late.

I had struggled with obedience
To a host of holy laws.
But I couldn’t beat my failures,
And I couldn’t beat my flaws.
All my earnest resolutions
Couldn’t bolster my lost cause;
So I came to Jesus, life to illustrate.

There was something fundamental,
Yes, a change which must be wrought;
And it couldn’t just be studied,
And it couldn’t just be bought.
It was of the Spirit’s working,
Some strange new birth to be sought.
This was how the Father planned to change my fate!

But so simple, Lord, now really!
Can this be for older men?
That they must dare to be child-like,
And by faith renounce their sin?
Seek some Holy Ghost infusion,
And by grace be born again?
Here’s the truth which I must now appropriate!

Market-place Mission

There is such a need for patience
In the army of the Lord;
When to sit, and pray, and listen,
When to stand and wield his sword.

All around a world is hungry
For the seed we have to sow,
And our hearts are fixed on serving,
Once the Lord will let us go.

But some common task compels us
To a tiny post or trade,
Where the eager harvest-worker
Seems quite useless and waylaid.

Where the daily round of testing
In a market-place of sin,
With its callous cuts and curses,
Often wears our patience thin.

Was it not the same for Jesus,
Though he felt an early call,
To be toiling in the sawdust
Years, with rule and plane and awl?

To be bearing with the wicked
In their lust to get ahead;
To be praying for their cleansing,
But to see their filth instead.

Yet the patience which he practiced
Had her perfect work to do,
In the shaping of a servant
Who would see God’s purpose through.

Comes a day, oh faithful warrior,
When the chiseling is done;
When the perfect path is opened
In your mission for God’s Son.

And you may be quite astonished,
In reviewing by-gone days,
At the hearts and lives affected
By your patient Christ-like ways.

Peter's Lament

He has prayed for me,
And how I know his nights
Were given much to prayer.
On struggling priestly heights,
He sought my blessing there.


He has prayed for me,
And often while with us,
Upheld me by his power;
Though I would storm and fuss
And rush and fret and glower.


He has prayed for me,
While I refused to think
That any wicked plan
Would cause my heart to sink
In fear of any man.


He has prayed for me,
Yet I too quickly slept,
When asked to pray with him
In darkness while he wept,
Awaiting capture grim.


He has prayed for me,
And all I did to help
Was lash out once with sword,
A useless little whelp,
While troops removed my Lord.


He has prayed for me,
Who sought the High Priest’s home,
His fate to better view;
But fearing Jews and Rome,
Denied him, ere cock crew.


He has prayed for me,
‘Though I fled in the night
To luxury of tears,
Not knowing how to fight
My frailty, flesh or fears.


He has prayed for me,
And all has come to be.
The tomb now holds my friend.
Has Satan sifted me?
Is infamy my end?


But Jesus prayed for me,
His eager little rock.
Did any prayer get through?
Will I yet tend his flock?
Oh, if I only knew!