Point of Combustion

The day will come.
Incontrovertible truth
Presented.
The messenger’s face
Bright, direct
With sincerity,
Thanksgiving
And assurance;
The sufficiency
Of Christ.
His noble service.
His victorious ethic.
His blood-letting.
His invigorating Spirit.
The words are
From God;
Seeds of life
Through the ages.
Your arguments
Dissolved.
Your idols
Cracked and
Tarnished.
Your tradition
Picayune.
The trying moment
Comes.
Lab-testing
Of alloy.
The metal strip
Presented to burner.
Ignited and red,
Rushing to flame?
Flash of light?
Ethereal wind
Unleashed?
Or charred and limp,
Refusing transformation?
Lacking the inner
Accelerant.
Such a day
Will be yours.
Expect it.
Pray for
Christ’s constitution.
His agenda.
Disparage the
Experiences of
Soiled self.

Move of God

I remember seeing a painting of George Whitefield (1714 - 1770) preaching to a crowd in an English village. The faces of those in attendance registered every possible reaction – mild interest, polite boredom, awkward smirks, heckling, distraction toward the activity of others and some in heavy conviction and mourning for sin.

The face of the preacher showed only severe focus on the Word being preached. He was not scanning the crowd for their reaction or trying to tailor his presentation for sake of persuasiveness. He modeled the dedicated, humble messenger of the simple seed of the Word. I saw nothing of debater, salesman or distinguished celebrity.

How often do we hear of the ministries of “great men or women of God” wielding some “mighty anointing”. It is as if the sweet ministry of the Holy Spirit and His fruit have been reduced to a commodity like baking powder available for better effect.

I am convinced that we are seeing the eclipse of “great personalities” in ministry. God is jealous for His glory. One of a messenger’s greatest fears in service or testimony should be the fear of the praise of men and its debilitating effect. The sower simply, obediently and faithfully scatters the seed. God gives the increase.

I am expecting a groundswell of grass-roots love and sharing to be in the next outbreak of revival. We must all be prepared to give the glad report and to offer hands of help.

A Courtroom Someday

The judge is so stern.
He frightens me.
The case is my life-
What end shall be?

The gallery is filled,
An angel crowd.
The docket is called-
My name read loud.

Accuser declares,
His brief is packed
With evil I did,
With grace I lacked.

All constables stand
Alert today.
Strong chains are in place
To lead away.

I turn from my box
To seek a face.
Friends out of my past?
But not a trace.

The clerk of the court
Asks me to rise:
“Which lawyer serves you
At this assize?”

I tell him of One,
Jesus, by name,
Who came to my cell,
My case to claim.

I called for His help
Upon arrest.
My case was severe;
He was the best.

He asked for no fee,
Just trust in Him.
The judge was quite fair;
Our case would win.

I told Him with tears,
With grief and shame,
The charges were true.
I was to blame.

But somehow, this man,
With eyes so clear,
Commanded my trust,
Relieved my fear.

“Jesus the Christ
Argues today.
See, His arrival;
Hear Him, I pray.”

The great Advocate takes his place.
(Accuser looks nervous and frowns.)
This Jesus- light shines from His face,
Makes challenge on primary grounds.

“My Lord, there is precedent here.
A case can be tried but one time.
The charges at bar were all cleared.
Remember the trial, it was mine…

On Calvary’s hill I was nailed;
And judged in your eyes as all sin.
In Hell’s dungeon halls, Light prevailed,
And you ruled: ‘Enough for all men’.

This dear contrite soul has my plea,
By taking my name for his case.
And justly, you must set him free,
For, Father, I died in his place!”

His Lordship then smiles to the court
And looks upon me with changed eyes:
“Your faith has brought this good report,
A friend of my Son never dies.”

Note: This poem takes me back to the early 1980's. I was a young lawyer in a small community doing a considerable amount of court work and real estate and having an over-inflated opinion of my capabilities. Going to a liturgical church. Serving on the Board. Having just fathered a beautiful baby daughter. But suddenly my wife was depressed. Looking for answers with a few caring women in a small Bible- believing chapel. My momentum was jarred. My churchianity was threatened . I was angry. My wife was praying, reading scripture and smiling like never before.

I was convicted. A woman friend of Hilary's, a client of mine, got me cornered on a business trip and sweetly told me of man's fall in a garden, of Jesus' obedience in a garden and of faith's ultimate destiny in a garden paradise. I had little of this, I sensed. Other people, men, business-men started putting in a word for Christ. Off the pages of scripture leapt Job 9:32,33 "For he (God) is not a man as I am, that I should answer him,and we should come together in judgment. Neither is there any days-man (advocate) betwixt us, that might lay his hand upon us both."

There was I, a rookie lawyer, looking for an advocate for my offences. Jesus was available. Soon the door of revelation was opened. Grace was extended. I asked Jesus to forgive my sins, to take over my life and to dwell within me. I take no credit for this. God had a plan.

How about you?