Can’t Quit you Jesus

Can’t Quit You Jesus

(“The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John 1:29)

I can’t quit you Jesus, though
heaven knows I’ve tried. I walked out
of your house where the whoops and hollers
overshadowed the Spirit flowing in living streams of love.
I left behind every edifice where people name
the anti-christ time and time again and call for
armageddon to be fought to prove the fat-armed
god
they serve is ready to return with an ax and sword.

I can’t quit you Jesus, and I
wish I hadn’t waited so long. Disabused and
enlightened by the primeval light I walked out
to hear a quieter persuasion like daffodils smiling
for the sun. I lost you in the sanctuary; my heart was
famished for love. But you vanished from the place
I had always expected to find you free.

I can’t quit you Jesus, and I
know I am not the only one. We were enchanted
by the lover of our souls only to be bowled over
once we wondered how universal it had to be.
Stones were politely thrown at that heresy that
could not see the divisions between A and B.
Borders were drawn so precisely that we knew who
had to be in or out.

But I just can’t quit you Jesus, though I wonder
what the warriors in the pews must think. They
make it so distinct,
like weeds among the rye they are ready to clear them
out to protect their perfect lawn.  I was angry with you
for deceiving me to become such a fool. I started at only love
but the occupants of your house have retuned every chorus to
sound like marching orders. They ran out of time.

I remember dancing with you, Jesus, and my eyes wet
with tears at the thought of your touch. I remember simple
homes where circles were enlarged to make room for the next
outcast to come in from the storm. That’s why these memories
that inform me there must still exist some way that insists
holy kisses can begin a passing of the peace that
leads us to follow a now unfamiliar path. We walked
out and woke up reborn. And usually without a hint of
your permission. But we walked.

I can’t,

I simply can’t,
I cannot even quit your Jesus. I cannot.

Why the Hell Don’t You be Jesus?

 
Why the Hell Don’t You be Jesus?

(“But the Lord stood with me and gave me strength so that I might preach the Good News in its entirety for all the Gentiles to hear.” 2 Timothy 4:17a)

Jesus is all you need!

They say,
and send you away with another
crunchy cliché.

Jesus is all I need!

They boast,
and hide themselves away before their
brittle bullshit

Reveals their balloon busting pride.

Then the days yawn slowly when no one
made the trip to share hugs, nor dollars, nor
humanity, nor proffers of their
body warmth near mine.

May it not be counted against them.

Jesus stands, if we will see, beside the living spring
that transforms the desert as the sycamores bloom.
Jesus hands the sweet figs into our ailing ego,
fully conscious that we may misinterpret the kindness
and claim an exclusive breakfast meeting with the
glorified son of god.

Too many heads are patted by self-serving
spiritualists who quote more than chapter and verse,
but tell you a tale that was told them about a missionary
in Africa
(it is usually Africa)
who actually saw Jesus’ face in the mane of a lion.

I would not argue with the missionary, if I met her,
but I tire of hearsay mysticism. I cry at the descriptions
only read in books, the ones meant to hook you into
their way of thinking.

Here’s a hint; no, I will say it boldly. Why the hell
don’t you be Jesus
showing up at the time the shaking body you see
truly needs it.

And yet, though some consign the slit-eyed
soul to some outer hallway of unknowing,

The Lord does stand.
She does offer her hand.
He does smooth back your hair
matted with tears and sweat
and leaves you speechless about such encounters
for ever
and ever after.

Fulfilling our Duty

Fulfilling our Duty

“The master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know.” Matthew 24:50

This morning I stopped at Starbucks to get a latte and a croissant for breakfast. The server asked if I would like the croissant heated, and I said “Yes, but could you heat it just a bit less than normal?” Mine was a chocolate croissant, and I did not want the chocolate completely melted. She said she was happy to do that. She told one of her fellow workers that she would take care of the croissant because of the special heating instructions.

I found that a bit odd. I figured she would set the microwave for only 20 seconds rather than 25, for instance. Instead, they depend on a buzzer that goes off at the right time for each pastry. She had to keep her eye on the microwave and turn it off when she said it was the right time. My “special order” actually meant she had to do something out of the norm. But, she did it all with a cheery outlook and a smile.

For my order to be correct, she had to keep her eye on the microwave. Jesus has given every believer “special orders”. We could list a few of the obvious: to love God with all our being, to love our neighbors as much as ourselves, to share the Good News, to be faithful to attending worship, and so one. In Matthew 24, Jesus outlines one order that must take place or we might miss the opportunity to complete the others.

Jesus tells his disciples that He, the “Son of Man” will return and “will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.” (verse 31). He goes on to tell them that no one can predict when He will return, “neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (verse 36).

Let’s think about those two truths. 1. Jesus promises to return to earth sometime after His resurrection. He will gather His followers to Himself at that time. 2. Nobody but Father-God knows when that will happen. NOBODY!

I was manager of a clothing store called Pants for Less. When my afternoon employees came in to work, I often took my lunch break and then did errands for the store. I might make a bank deposit, pick up supplies, or even visit one of the other stores in the area to talk strategy with their manager. So I would tell my employee, “I’m headed out for a while. I’ll be gone anywhere from two to four hours. There is a list of things you can take care of around the store. Customers are first, of course. If you run out of things, find something that needs to be done.”

It made me happy and proud when I came back to the store and found that employee dusting bins, putting up a new display, pricing items, or any of a number of things that could be done. I would often compliment them on how good the store looked and how much it meant that I found them working when I returned.

But, those few times when I found my employee behind the counter reading a book or talking to a friend on the phone, I would be a bit discouraged. Not only were they not tending to the store, they hadn’t even finished the list I had given them.

Jesus told us to “be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Can you imagine God’s joy when His people are in His house every Sunday without excuse? And, He is even more thrilled when we bring a neighbor to whom we have shown Jesus’ love. We have all been given “jobs” in the Body of Christ. And, in each individual church, we are called to fulfill certain duties.

One of the most discouraging things for a pastor is having to encourage people to be more faithful to attend church. But, the greatest discouragement is when many who miss that great time of worship are people who have known Jesus long enough to be teaching others themselves. We have been asked by Jesus; no, commanded, to take the Good News to the ends of the earth. How sad if, when He returned, He had to ask, “Why weren’t you at work for my kingdom?”

What would happen if we all, expecting Jesus to return at any time, said, “I am going to fulfill the duties Jesus has asked me to do?” The church needs revival. God’s people need a new awakening. We need, not just to be reminded to “go to church”, but to “be the church.” Who will stand up and take their place, the place Jesus has asked you to take? Imagine Jesus returning, seeing your local fellowship alive and abuzz with the Holy Spirit’s fire, with each member in their place; imagine Him saying, “Well done, even though I came at an unexpected hour, you were busy fulfilling My will!”

A Few Ways

A Few Ways

(“And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well; he even makes the deaf hear and the dumb speak.’” Mark 7:37)

And here are a few other ways that He is different from
gurus and pundits, spiritualists and sages.
He turns the entire world inside out, the foundations we dug
now float away to the hidden warehouses of the snow.
And He builds with cast-off lumber, chinked bricks,
scads of shards indistinguishable from pebbles strewn
on the hardpan soil of desert expanse.

And here are a few other ways He challenges the
assumption of His some-time prophets who see the
End OF THE World at every shaking off San Francisco,
Peru or Japan. Or the scan the skies for the latest
blue moon array and exclaim the telltale signs that Jesus
is ready to get real mad now that He has spent 2,000 years
holding in all his anger, being nice, and all, full of grace and all,
for over two millennia, and that is more than enough time to wait.
The world was created in a week, and within the next week His
lightning and thunder will bloodily turn the undertow foamy.
Mark the date, people,
Empty your plates, people,
Walk straight, people because the Eastern Sky will explode
in gall and wrath just days after I’ve finished cashing all my checks
sent in by so many who
took the bait, people.

And here are a few other ways to welcome His coming
with visits to the unwashed cells of unwanted humans,
with encounters in stuffy rooms that smell of excrement where
the unknown aged wait their last breath alone,
with cookies for children with sores upon their faces,
with hugs for antagonists,
honey for adversaries,
and healing for every man (high, low, above, below)
who has a past you’ve never met, but who has a past
that keeps him awake at night.

And here are a few other ways He is different
than
any
other.

Your Ride, Your Majesty

“Do not be afraid, people of Zion! Look! Your king is coming. He is riding on a young donkey.” John 12:15

“Your Majesty”. Perhaps the first time we hear that phrase it is in the context of a child’s fairy tale or a Disney animated story. The “Majesty” is always the king or queen resplendent in their royal garb. The crown sparkles with gemstones on their head and the gold vestment flows down from their shoulders as they sit upon their elevated throne. A subject has entered, kneeling below, waiting for his “Majesty” to lower the scepter, indicating his approval.

The Smallest Timbre

The Smallest Timbre

(“And without faith it is impossible to please God, for whoever would approach him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” Hebrews 11:6)

I spot the impossible in memories and mind,
but miss it on the sod I’ve planted my feet upon.
The clouds increase my resistance,
my willingness lumbers under pretentious imagination
precisely where I left it time ago and
time again.

I have not done with seeking, it is finding that frustrates me,
and I wish the next bush would hold a bird or two with
a welcome song from the home where I know the view
has washed all the grey hues away. The music,
the lyric,
the lilt of fiddle tunes that echo from smokey mountains
to splintered front porches. The work is hard but the
play is better.

I love every word Jesus spoke, and need no others.
But I would like them front and centered,
above the late night memories and happy home rooms
I’ve entered so long ago they’ve come around and
masquerade as my future.

Let the morning carry the words I adore through
the cracks in the shutters, into the spirals that utter
dark expectations about the smallest timbre
and attach meanings to the absence I feel
of every love I’ve made or imagined. I
do not want to feel loved to rid my stomach
of its shivers
nor
my eyes of their tears.

I am nearing the end, and no longer needing proof,
I simply want to hear an answer to help me seek
just a little bit longer.

Still Rumored

Still Rumored

(“Some of them began to spit on him. They covered his face and hit him with their fists. They said to him, 'Prophesy!' Even the guards took him and slapped him.” Mark 14:65)

It is still rumored across the prevailing winds that
my sins
were included when they put that sack over Your face;
your nose scratched by the pinny burlap, your mouth closed by
the tight squeeze around Your head. One fist, then two, another,
then three, four or five, seven or ten, we lose count when the blows
come, one and then again, one after the other; knuckles below the nose
and palms straight up the cheekbones.

I do not remember that shadowy place, lit only by oily torches
leaving soot shadows in the air; ghosts crawling on the palace walls.

But the wind still whistles that I lack an alibi. There was no where else
such as I to be. (Though I had often discussed Messianic possibilities,
setting seniors upon their heels with my well-rounded arguments.) I
knew none of that mattered
now. For I did not recognize the very face I had theorized
God might have if He were to visit, satisfied to portion His
grace to the rightly studied few. I knew I stood head of my class.

I have an inkling I attended the mock court and its proceedings,
though I would swear I never meant to be there when God was
knocked down in the preliminary rounds. As the fists flew fewer,
You were left in the middle, a dizzied man pummeled by courageous
bragarts with a blindfold just in case the odds were not even. Turning
like a tree ready to topple, we screamed at your circling room,
“Tell Us! Speak Up! Tell Us, mighty son of god. Prophesy! Speak up!
Prophesy, who hit you, You Wretch of a Blasphemer and Pretender
to the Throne. Tell Us! Speak up! Prophecy! Tell Us! and we will leave you
alone.

But the breeze broke about the darkness of midnight; the whistles of wind
and the prevailing opinions were stopped when the prisoner did not speak,
did not moan, did not mumble, did not accuse. He stood, bloody; his
skin raked like a garden ready for seed. His face was shredded, flesh
torn between lips and cheekbones. His knees were buckled, though he
refused to kneel; and He swayed like the most majestic of trees
when the storms do their best to topple the wooden wonders with
roots spread over acres, and live among us still. He swayed,

But He stood. And for a moment brief as lightning I knew,
though my mind retreated to darkness quickly again:
though beaten and torn, bruised and aching,
before me stood, more than I'd seen stand before
was, no doubt, the Creator, the King.

A Bread Narrative

"A Bread Narrative"

(“Jesus replied: ‘I am the bread that gives life! No one who comes to me will ever be hungry. No one who has faith in me will ever be thirsty.’” John 6:35)

I spread the white cream cheese, one side at a time,
onto each half of my blueberry bagel. That is my breakfast,
two, three, or four times a week. That is my breakfast except
for the two times a week I pour almond crunch cereal into a bowl with milk,
and the one or two times a week I smear the same cream cheese
onto two slices of cinnamon toast.

But yesterday I spread the cream cheese on a bagel and walked out the door.

It was Sunday morning, the first day of Fall, and the half block to the church
was mostly grass, gold and brown after late summer’s dehydration, though
soft from the fog inching up from the river a quarter mile away; half eaten
I brought the second half, unthinking and rote, to my mouth as I strode across
the lawn. And half of that half, with an unhappy crease, fell upon the ground,
upside down, a sandwich of earth, cream cheese and bagel.

I thought about picking it up, not to eat, I knew there were cookies with the
coffee soon to appear as people began to populate the morning worship.
I thought about picking it up, just so no children, closer to the ground than I,
might like a bit of my breakfast as well.

I thought about picking it up, but left it there instead.

We prayed and we laughed inside our simple building. We rejoiced that
God allowed a young girl to keep her cat, it’s true. Last week the evil cat
was attacking all three other kittens in the home, and would have to live alone,
unless it learned to behave. We prayed. Now the cats get along, and one young girl
thinks God is pretty cool to do that.

After all had left, and standing for an hour long conversation with a constituent
who had no idea that my head pain increases the more I just stand and talk
and talk and stand. Inside I nearly toppled onto a pew, grabbing my temples and crying,
“Let me go home.” Instead I listened; and it was good.

I strode across the lawn, going home, and noticed my quarter-bagel was gone. I
am sure a
blue jay enjoyed a feast, a fortuitous find, and I suffered little at the loss
of just a bit of Sunday breakfast on my way
walking to church.

Changed by Love

Changed by Love

“For God loved the world in this way: He gave His One and Only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

There is a reason we do not use our best china for every meal. In our house it was because we had just one set, it was an heirloom, and Mom knew that eventually we would chip or break nearly every piece of that set. (I know, I asked her several times as a kid while stabbing green beans off a melmac plate.) Alright, for those born after 1975, “Melmac” was molded dinnerware that looked like hard plastic. (It had nothing to do with “Alf’s” home planet).

Teach us to Pray

Teach us to Pray

(“When you pray, say: ‘Father, may your name always be kept holy. May your kingdom come.’” Luke 11:2)

For many people, prayer is the most challenging aspects of their relationship with God. That is not to say that most do not want to pray, but it presents a number of difficulties which we should face honestly. It appears even Jesus’ disciples felt a certain deficit in their own prayer life. Jesus had been praying, and when He finished one of His followers asked Him to teach them to pray.

Imagine playing clarinet in an orchestra and sitting under the tutelage of one of the world’s greatest conductors whose primary instrument is also the clarinet. One day you hear him playing a part you have struggled with constantly. In awe, you listen to the maestro’s accomplished melodies. You ask on behalf of the other musicians, “Master, teach us how to play.”

It is not that you had been faking it; you knew your instrument quite well. You had practiced diligently, could read the music, produce the right notes, and play nearly anything with enough time to prepare. But, having heard the master play, you realized how much you had to learn. You knew the notes, but he knew the music. You could play the song, but he could bring people to tears.

So it is in our prayer. We see Jesus’ constant fellowship with the Father in the Scriptures and realize how much we lack in understanding the heart of prayer. We will never discover the beauty or the depth until we ask, along with the disciples, “Lord, please teach us to pray.”

Jesus does not reprimand them for not praying well enough. Instead, assuming they truly wanted to learn, He said, “When you pray…” The first lesson: Do it! God is not interested in perfected language; He wants us to simply come to Him. We will never learn to pray if we avoid prayer!

“Say, Father…” It is simple. God is the Perfect Parent. He desires to nurture us, provide for us, care for us and lavish the affection of the best Mother or Father. He is “our” Father; you are not an only child. When we call Him “Father”, we indentify ourselves with the family of all who follow Jesus.

See Him as your Father when you pray. If that is hard, go no further. Ask Him, by the power of the Holy Spirit, to change your imagination. Ask Him to take out the old images painting Him with lightning bolts and a voice of cruel thunder. Ask Him to help you see the caring Father He is.

Think about your desires for your own children. You would do anything to help them overcome a difficulty. You would supply anything they needed to have a fulfilling life. You would never leave them alone, allowing them to think you had forsaken them. You do everything you can to fill their hearts with confidence about your love. Why would God do anything different? He is the perfect Heavenly Father, wanting to fill your life-experience with the confidence that comes from knowing His love.

He is our Father whose name is “holy”. We must always keep the high view of God in view. Because He is holy, He deserves worship and complete submission. He is the image of perfection. As we learn to pray, we learn to align our life to His purity. Prayer is not a way to convince “Papa God” to let us have our way. It is meant to help us submit to His way.

That is what “May Your kingdom come” means. Jesus taught us that prayer always begin, not with a list of our wants and needs, but with a deep desire to see God’s plan worked out in the world. Bring the poor to the Father who cares about them. Pray for many who have not heard about the love of Christ and forgiveness provided at the cross. Pray for the widow who cannot figure out how begin her new life. Pray for the teen bullied by those who think she is different.

Most of all, make prayer a priority. Set aside a specific time, and do not let anything interfere. Your Father God looks forward to conversing with you even more than you do with Him. And, dear one, He misses you when you don’t show up.

Upside Down Messages

“Even though I am a free man with no master, I have become a slave to all people to bring many to Christ.” 1 Corinthians 9:19

Paul was a master at blending in when it meant he could avoid causing offense to others. He didn’t mind causing a stir if it was necessary. Goodness know, there was a huge riot in Lsytra when he made it clear there was only one God, and only one Savior, Jesus Christ His Son.

I Do not Qualify

I Do not Qualify

(“After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” Luke 5:27)

How many times have You asked me;
over and over until I got up out of my crouch,
or just once, while You waited for the Yes
to run from my mouth to my feet? Direction
and discreet turns of phrase to keep me disguised
well enough.

I could follow, my name misspelled enough,
to enjoy the walk without explaining my choice.

Pretty soon I found the rags You left me, donned them,
looked bereft as I thought You meant me,
and talked just like the guys on the radio who
told me where to turn in my Bible while I was driving
deliveries for the downtown pharmacy in the VW bug
without a muffler. I don’t think I followed better then,
but the rest of Your team certainly thought I did.

Finally, a decade or so, I think my heart is finally in it,
but more lost than the day I left my seat. I don’t mean
to complain, but a high school education makes me feel
like no one at all when I am sure I could have studied, striding
down Berkeley’s Halls on at least a scholarship or half.
But I left the hope for higher learning thinking You meant
my sight set on Higher learning yet. I will follow You to
the end,
I will.
But we will have to have a conversation about that at
the end,
we will.

My heart is in it, following You, I mean. My feet and hands
and voice and wardrobe are sadder than they have ever been.
All I want to do is ask each one at the crossroad to
follow You,
but it is not enough, and teary I remember pictures I
nailed on the dream walls; preaching to half a thousand,
teaching to hundreds who memorized the notes in hand.

I do not qualify for the big sky palaces, they want Masters of
Divinity,
not Community College dropouts like me.

My heart is in it, following You, I mean. I’m must not sure
where that means for me to go, my voice is throaty, my thoughts
disjointed, my eyes red with tears, and my feet swollen. I love You
more,
and more Your people as well.

For me, please, grant the hundreds of friends and fields and
mother and brothers You said I would have in
this world
as well as
the world
to come.

About My Father's Business

“Jesus said to them, ‘Why were you looking for me? Didn't you know that I must be in my Father's house?’” Luke 2:49

Other translations have Jesus say, “Didn’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?” The meaning does not change much either way. But it started me thinking about the things I expect Jesus to do, and the places I expect Him to show up.

HeadLong

HeadLong

(“Therefore, you are to store up these words of mine in your heart and in all your being; tie them on your hand as a sign; put them at the front of a headband around your forehead.” Deuteronomy 11:18)

I wasn’t sure it was true until I ran
headlong
into the
headlights
coming at me down the wrong side of the road.

I tried to swallow every truth they fed me;
forced down the sour, calling it sweet;
swallowing poison, singing their visions
and swore upon my future grave everything
I thought buzzed up or down my mind
was what they taught me: God was all
tangled up with me.

I wasn’t convinced I could believe until I
turned on
the song
turned down
by half the town that hated simple ballads.

I tried to perform every ditty they taught me,
reworked lyrics to frame the obvious,
toned down the volume to fit the audience,
eventually lost my words and threw the
lead sheets to the wind. I never understood them
anyway.

I memorized, not proof-text and address,
but words like dancing, rules like common sensing
(permission before fencing along my neighbor-line)
I packed my wits for the journey with pictures
I had taken along the way. It seems the portraits I
captured of my Companion smiled more often than
the pictures others had given me with their letters of
introduction.

Head-on He struck me, call me brainDead now, or
merely foolishly aging, but I’ve renewed my license to
write with His picture hanging on the wall. Like a movie
where the hero has amnesia, now I’ve forgotten every bit
of advice that kept me from singing like it came from
anyplace, any space other than
straight from my heart.

Tethering Our Thoughts

“My friends, God has chosen you to be his holy people. So think about Jesus, the one we call our apostle and high priest!” Hebrews 3:1

I think about a lot of things. I have a mind that keeps spinning, chugging away like a perpetual motion machine. If my thoughts became visible, they would look like some Rube Goldberg creation. The first few motions of thought would seem sensible, but after a few moments the connection between the first and latest thought is lost.

Less Than a Day Away

Less Than a Day Away

(“And they brought Jesus to a place called Golgotha (which means “Place of the Skull).“ Mark 15:22)

It was a deadhead where they brought Him,
a vacated cranium. It was empty-minded
thoughts, flotation devices that hung above
the well deep where wonder, despair, and
hope for better meet.

It was living and breathing, walking dead,
who made Life walk among the massive education
looming, ballooning their advertisements no heavier
than helium.

It was Language itself who never said a word
in the face of invented opinions meeting
capitalized religion together with abbreviated reason.

We cannot say we do not care
what happened upon that hill;
we may hate it, disbelieve it, embrace it,
mould reliefs, or ignore it, but fairly often
our opinion is stronger than we let on.

There was hope upon the ground that the senseless execution
would dull like morphine their mind’s constant goading
about the way Words and Reason made sense more
transcendental than dirt-bound philosophers or
ink-penned scribes.

The ruined One upon the tree refused every offer,
every drug-induced remedy. (We do not medicate to
expand the mind, but do quiet its constant truth attraction.)

One truth was placed on hold on the empty-headed hill,
Truth unfashioned by arithmetic or piety. There is nothing
to fear here, near Golgotha’s hill, save our own skull with
thought turned off
prematurely.

Heaven sent Truth to speak, to heal, to love, to reveal
the greater plan than man could conclude,
and we abused, excused and sentenced Him for
making Heaven sound far too near.

Even one thief that cruel Friday heard that
Paradise lay less than a day away.

When the Path is a Puzzle

“Back on the road, they set out for Jerusalem. Jesus had a head start on them, and they were following, puzzled and not just a little afraid. He took the Twelve and began again to go over what to expect next.” Mark 10:32

It must have been a dizzying three years for Jesus’ disciples. Within a typical week they might have heard him teach the most amazing concepts about God, turning their preconceptions about religion upside down; seen him heal, raise the dead, along with other miraculous signs; and witnessed the attacks by the religious ruling class on His authority and Jesus’ deft replies.

Let the Glory Show

“Smoke from God’s glory and power poured out of the Temple. No one was permitted to enter the Temple until the seven disasters of the Seven Angels were finished.” Revelation 15:8 (The Message)

I am the first to admit that the book of Revelation can be like walking through a bog with a heavy mist falling. Beasts and dragons, flying horses and bowls full of judgment whirl through its pages like an Arthurian legend. One thing is sure, though; this book is about Jesus.

A Note from Jesus

“And from Jesus Christ—Loyal Witness, Firstborn from the dead, Ruler of all earthly kings. Glory and strength to Christ, who loves us, who blood-washed our sins from our lives.” Revelation 1:5 (The Message)

It must have meant the world to the Apostle John, nearly 90 years old and exiled on the island of Patmos, to receive a personal vision and visitation from Jesus. Many have spent their lifetime trying to unravel the times and seasons of which the Book of Revelation speaks. One thing is for certain, as with all other Scripture, it is primarily supposed to make us better acquainted with Jesus Himself.

Love Because...

“We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19

I have never had to experience physical hunger. Oh, I’ve gone without eating, skipped a meal, and heard my stomach reenact a summer thunderstorm. But I have never experienced true hunger.