At this time of the year we are used to seeing the Babe in the manger. It is always a time when we can be thrilled with the wonder of it all.
Yet, think of it beforehand. Think of the Holy Foetus attached to Mary’s womb, gaining succour from a placenta that was to become the afterbirth. This is God? That tiny, budding life? How amazing is that?
Then, think of the wonder beyond the stable and the Babe to the Man, the very Word of God, who spoke all He walked amongst into being. Now he debates with sceptics and arrogant men of learning, allowing them to deride Him, mock Him and scorn His words that came from the same mouth that created them.
And the wonder goes on through Calvary, the empty tomb and the free gift of eternal life offered, incredibly without any obligation to accept it.
We do, indeed have an amazing God.
Amazing
The body of God Forming slowly A clump of cells A tiny brain Eyes Fingers Mouth Cord, placenta God, two inches long Drawing nourishment from Mary Amazing.
The Word of God Speaking light Speaking earth Speaking sea And stars The moon Lilies of the field And man Speaking all of creation into being Now debating with sceptics Contradicted Ignored Vilified Amazing
The love of God Selfless Giving Healing Joyous love Exploited Doubted Denied Nailed to a Cross And there, fully expressed Amazing
The blood of God Falling to the ground Earth-shattering Veil-splitting Blood A scarlet ribbon Rippling through eternity Buying freedom For you For me Changing history Letting the eyes of God Meet mine And yours, if you will Amazing
The power of God Life-giving Stone-moving Heaven-opening Glorifying Power Available to all who believe Amazing
Free choice for man A gift from God Setting his destiny Light Or darkness Loneliness Or comfort Life Or death God’s favour Or wrath God lets us choose Respects our choice
Choose light Comfort Life Choose God And stand amazed
After a delay while I had stents put into my coronary arteries and looked after a four-year-old step grandson for 10 days — a full time occupation with no time for anything else — I’m very proud to announce that my new book is in print — electronically and as a paperback.
There is something in music that causes a surge in the heart
of the listener, causing emotions that fluctuate as the music varies. A good
story, well written can do that, too.
In this book, I’ve written award winning stories that will put a song in your heart, like music. Whether you find your spirit soaring like an eagle with inspiring true stories such as that of Father Damien in “Plundering a Hell on Earth”, challenged with fictitious tales containing eternal truths, such as “I Did it My Way”, weeping at the tragedy of a senseless war in “Scorched Earth, Seared Soul” or tenderly touched by the love of two women in “To Mary, and Mary”, each story will strike a chord that brings you to Jesus, or challenges your walk with Him in some way.
Listen to the music that stirs within you as you read, and you
will hear God speak to you.
For the next two weeks the book is on promotion for 99c. If you buy it from Smashwords, you’ll need to quote a coupon, which is NM27P.
This is an extract from someone who previewed it:
“Loved the book! It was a real treasure trove of vignettes, little polished gems that keep me digging for more. I wept on several occasions at the beauty of your language and the emotions you evoked.”
Here’s a sample:
The
Mocking
At the cathedral exit, Jacques paused and looked at his friend. “Wait here. I’m going back to shock the priest out of his cassock!” Turning back to the aisle, he made his way towards the confessional. Jacques and Mario were touring the world and having a blast. Cathedral tours were not usually included with the beaches, night clubs and extreme sports, but this one was supposed to be famous. Jacques found it ornate, cold and otherworldly. He needed to inject some fun. Drawing back the curtain of the confessional, he sat down. “Father, I have sinned,” he said in a contrite voice. “Nothing is beyond God’s forgiveness, my son. Please confess your sins.” Jacques, his imagination at full sway, recited in lurid detail, stories of every abominable sin he could think of. He had murdered, he said, fornicated, cheated, lied, blasphemed and betrayed. Finally he stopped, waiting for a response. After a silence the priest spoke up in deep, clear tones. Was there a slight mocking? Had he seen the prank? “My son, you have much to repent of. This is the penance: At the life-size crucifix overlooking the chapel to your right, look into the face of the statue of Jesus hanging on the cross and repeat ten times, “Jesus, you are hanging there for all I’ve done and I don’t care.” Then, with the hint of a smile in his voice, he said, “Do not let the game end here. Carry it through to the end.” So he DID know. Oh well, Jacques would accept the dare. He found the crucifix easily. He never understood this Jesus thing. Why did people make so much fuss about a man on a cross improbably taking our sins? Was the story true? It seemed unlikely. Uncertainly, he started. “Jesus, you are hanging there for all I’ve done and I don’t care. Jesus, you are hanging there for all I’ve done and I don’t care.” Gaining confidence, he made it part of the fun. Beating his breast in mock despair, in a cracked voice he called, “Jesus, you’re hanging there for all I’ve done,” then he straightened himself, looked defiantly at the statue’s face and spat out the words, “and I don’t care.” He tried looking him in the eye, daring him to flinch, “Jesus, you’re hanging there for all I’ve done and I don’t care.” There, that was four times. Six to go. On the seventh time, as he looked into that face, he noticed, for the first time, how the thorns of the crown pierced the skin of his forehead, causing blood to trickle down into his eye. Inexplicably, he felt an urge to wipe it away. “This is silly. It’s only a statue!” The next time, his eyes wandered to the hands fiercely impaled with large, rough nails. Again he noticed the blood trickling, this time, from the palms to halfway along his arms before forming drops that hung, about to fall. “Jesus, you’re … you’re hanging there … for all I’ve done, and ….. and I don’t care.” He forced the words out. “I am just talking to a statue.” Why, then was he feeling so emotional about it? He looked back at the face. Those eyes; they seemed to know what he was saying and yet remained with that same compassionate look. Of course they would. They were the eyes of a statue. And yet…. what if it depicted a real person? Two to go. He started, “Jesus, you’re hanging there for all I’ve done and…. and… ” He felt his knees shaking, then giving way. On his knees he started sobbing, “and I DO care, Jesus. I’m not that callous. Or maybe I am. I am sorry. I am so sorry that you had to do this for us. Why do you love us so much? How could I not care, Jesus, when YOU care so much? Forgive me, please. I don’t ever want to willingly do anything that makes me more responsible for your suffering.” As he knelt before the cross, a tangible peace flooded his soul. Through his tear-filled eyes he half-imagined Jesus coming off that cross, laying a forgiving hand on his shoulder. And he felt clean; for the first time he could remember, he felt washed from the inside out. He looked up and saw the man-God behind the statue. He also saw, in every repeat of his own mocking another reason for those brutal nails. And, born again, he wept. (This is based on a true story)
Here I am again, back to the familiar where nothing’s
changed. I see I left a shirt on the bed and crockery drip-drying by the sink.
It seems incredible that this place — this home — should
be just as I left it, when God’s light is rampant on earth. And I’ve been part
of it. What a journey! It was a spur of the moment decision, but the best I’ve
ever made. I teamed up with Theo, and we just decided we’d take a road at
random and see what village it led to.
The wiry old man sitting outside his house had half a dozen
children playing at his feet. That gave us an opening.
“Are those your grandchildren, old man?” I asked.
His face softened and his eyes brightened as they wandered, first
to them and then to us.
“All of them,” he said.
Theo joined in. “Children are so trusting.”
The laughter lines creased around his eyes. “They come
to me with anything.”
“Did you know that’s the way we must enter the Kingdom
of Heaven?”
The old man stiffened; his face suddenly hard. “Trust
God like the children trust me?” He looked at the ground, frowning.
“No. You see, I’ve had experience, which these children haven’t had.”
His eyes misted over. “I know what it’s like to pray to God and have a silent
heaven.”
It was my turn. “Will you tell us about it?”
He stood up. “Come. I’ll show you.”
He opened the gate and ushered us into his home, leading us
to a room at the back. On the way, we heard cries and the pounding of heels on
the floor. He opened the door a fraction and bade us look. In the middle of the
room tied to a pole that was fixed to the floor was — what was it — an
animal? No, although like a crazed beast, its eyes burned with fury, the head
swayed back and forth and the heels drummed up and down, up and down while it
wrenched at the ropes holding it to the post. It was barely recognisable as a
young girl, tormented and crazed by a thousand demons.
Closing the door, the old man took us to his sitting room.
“That’s Lydia. I’ve prayed to God day and night for my grandchild, but
He’s not listening.” The tears glistened on his lined face. “Can you
see why I cannot trust Him as a little child?”
I glanced at Theo and saw his face shine. “Sir, God has
heard your prayer. His timing is perfect. He wants you to know about His
Messiah. He’s come to save us from our sins and deliver us from the oppression
of the Evil One.”
He told him the good news of Jesus, the Messiah. On
finishing, he said, “Now, take us to Lydia.”
It was our first taste of the power Jesus gave us. With
screeching and a stench that filled the house, the demons fled. Lydia’s eyes
softened, her face transformed and she spoke to her grandfather in a voice as
sweet and clear as a mountain stream. “Thank you, Grandpa for praying so
earnestly for me.” She smiled as she held the weeping, trembling old man.
That evening we preached to a packed house.
Lydia, had waltzed around the village in a dance of joy, spreading the
good news. The Kingdom of God permeated the whole village as we stayed at the
old man’s home preaching, teaching, healing the sick and driving out demons in
the Name of Jesus.
Then we moved to the next village and the scene was repeated
as we used Jesus’ strategy, staying in people’s homes and ministering from
there. (Luke 10:7) We’d never experienced such power.
Finally, after filling village after village with the light
of God, we reported back to Jesus. “Even the demons obeyed us!” we
exclaimed with excitement. The other seventy disciples had similar stories. (Luke
10:17)
But Jesus warned us, “Don’t get carried away with the
power I’ve given you. Remember from whence it came and rejoice that God has
chosen you to be with Him.” (Luke 10:20) It was a sober lesson. I admit,
the power had gone to my head a little.
And now, my little home, it’ll be good to sleep in my own
bed with familiar things around me, but then I’ll have to say goodbye to you.
You see, there’s a Messiah who has no place to lay His head (Luke 9:58) and
I’ll be following Him wherever He goes.
Whew, what a week! We have our four year old grandson with
us and it is hectic. I’d forgetten what it is like to have a little child in
the house.
But it’s fun, and full of lessons about our walk with our
heavenly Father.
For one thing, everything around him inspires wonder.
As adults we get so used to the miracles that surround us
each day that we miss the wonder of it all. Yet the intricate way in which the
weavers in our garden weave their nests, the tiny buds that form on branches,
long bare and barren through the winter months, the way a little insect knows
to scurry away as I put a finger near are all wonders of God’s creation.
Even though there might be scientific explanations for all
these things, it in no way detracts from the marvel. The laws themselves, dreamed
up by God from nothing, should inspire awe.
Then, my little grandson’s every second sentence is
punctuated by “Why?”
“Why does this come apart?”
“So we can clean this bit and not the bit with the
engine.”
“Why?”
“Because water will stop the engine working.”
“Why?”
And so on ad
infinitum.
But without a clue about electricity, how does one explain
about water shorting the works?
It makes me realise that God probably has the same problem
with us. How often, with our very limited understanding of the true nature of
things, do we ask the question
“Why, God?”
That probably explains why He seldom answers the question, but graces us with His presence, His comfort and His love. As I say, in God in the ICU:
“There is a deep
mystery in suffering. Nowhere does God say He will protect us from it. What He
does promise, however is that He will walk with us through it.. Many people,
having experienced great suffering through bereavement, persecution, financial
hardship or illness testify that those were the times they felt closest to
God.”
That’s usually how He answers our question, “Why?”
and sometimes (often, actually), I just have to do the same with my grandson.
I suppose it’s because we can go to a doctor without any
reference to God, that some people think of healing by doctors as some sort of alternative to God’s healing.
I have heard people say, “I’m not going to a doctor. I’m trusting God to
heal me.”
I’ve also heard others say, “Well, the doctor hasn’t
done much, I’ll just have to pray.”
It’s as though doctors and God are in some kind of
opposition.
The fact is, God is responsible for all true healing. As we walk in love, acknowledging His hand in our lives, we can participate with Him in our healing. An attitude of love, medicine and miracles are all part of God’s healing process. I write more extensively on this in Prayer, Medicine and Miracles, but want to write about it now because I’ve had direct experience of God intervening in my life through medicine.
My wife and I were due to go to a picturesque town in the
Cape for a four month break house-sitting for my daughter. She hadn’t asked; it
was an idea that came from nowhere as I awoke one morning, when I knew she’d be
away.
Shortly before we were due to leave, I experienced a slight
ache in my arm and a bit of breathlessness while jogging. Had we not been going
to a fairly remote village, I probably would have ignored it, but because we
would not be near sophisticated medical facilities, I thought I’d better get it
checked.
Within a week, I was in hospital having a stent put into a
major coronary artery which was close to blocking.
I have no doubt God put the idea of house-sitting in my mind
to precipitate me into seeking a medical checkup for a minor complaint which,
had I ignored it, could have killed me with a heart attack.
In His love, He used hi-tech medicine to fix my problem
without major surgery.
God deserves the glory for all true healing.
When we see Him as responsible for all healing, we can avail ourselves of everything at our disposal
This includes diet, exercise, alternative medicine as well, of course as prayer.
In fact, prayer can enhance any other aspect of healing. In one instance which I describe in Prayer,Medicine and Miracles, I was asked to take over a patient in ICU who was deteriorating. I did not change any treatment, but started praying with him. He immediately improved and recovered.
Of course, it doesn’t include methods that go against the Word of God (psychic healing, transcendental meditation or methods that pay homage to other religions). These might produce physical results but leave you spiritually oppressed/bankrupt, which is not true, holistic healing.
Even if a doctor is not a believer, you can trust God to use him. There are instances in the Bible where God has used unbelievers for His purposes.
It depends on where you put your focus. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus and trust Him to heal you in whatever way He wishes (and He does wish it for you.)
Nothing is impossible for God.
Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; save
me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise. (Jer.17:14)
