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Bill was visibly frustrated as he briskly strode into Dave’s office.

“Hey Bill, what can I do for you?” Dave asked pleasantly.

“You can accept my resignation,” Bill snarled.

“What?” Dave replied, in confusion.

“That’s right, I’m done,” he continued.

“OK Bill, I see that you’re very upset; why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Five Smooth Stones is what’s going on!” he said,

“You mean the Christian Rock Band?” Dave asked.

“Come on Dave, what else would I be talking about?” he shot back.

“OK, I just want to make sure I understand what the problem is?”

Bill’s expression twisted as he explained, “It’s really pretty simple, I’ve been teaching Sunday School in this church for almost twenty years now, and it’s been like pulling teeth to get anyone interested in this ministry; especially the kids.  We never have any budget, we fight to get teachers, and even when you get some kids in the classroom, you fight to get them interested in anything to do with God.  But let some guys with guitars show up, and all of a sudden, we’ve got money to upgrade the sound system, we’ve got an army of volunteers to set up the stage, and the kids are acting like its Christmas Eve.”

“So you’re upset that everyone is excited about this band coming in?” Dave asked in confusion.

“It’s not that I care about the band,” he responded, “I just wonder why no one is excited about working with this ministry until some group of hot shots they’ve heard on the radio comes around.  Is this really even about ministry, or is it just a meeting of the ‘Five Smooth Stones’ fan club?”

“OK Bill, I think I understand where you’re coming from.  First off, as the Superintendent of the Sunday School, no one understands better than me about the struggle to keep this ministry going, and to get people excited about it; but having a nationally known Christian band just volunteer out of the blue to come, and give a concert here is a blessing, not a curse.  This will give us an opportunity to reach the kids in a way that we’ve never been able to before.”

“Will it Dave?”

“Will it what?” he again asked in confusion.

Reach the kids,” Bill replied.

“I don’t know, but don’t you think that it’s worth a try?” Dave pled.

“I don’t know what I think anymore,” he said.  “I’m beginning to doubt that I’ve ever reached any of the kids that I’ve taught over the years.”

Dave’s face fell, “Come on Bill, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

“No really; I’ve watched them come in, and sit through my class like it was detention.  They do there time, and then they leave,” he responded.  A few years later, when you see them on the street, they either don’t know you, or you find out that they’re living with their girlfriend or something.”

“You know that isn’t every kid’s story,” Dave defended.

“I know, but the good kids seem to come from good parents.  They’re fine when I get them, and they’re fine when they leave,” Bill asserted.  “I just can’t see where I’ve made any difference in their lives.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You’re right Dave, I would be.”

Just as Bill finished, an assistant knocked on the open door, and exclaimed, “They’re here!”

“You mean the band?” Dave queried.

“Yup!” the assistant chirped.

“Send them in,” he directed.

Bill rolled his eyes, and said, “I should go.”

“No Bill, you should stay and meet these guys,” Dave replied.  “It may make a difference for you.”

With a heavy sigh, Bill grumbled, “I don’t see how, but whatever.”

As two members of the band stepped into the office, Dave quickly moved to the doorway and extended his hand.  “Hey guys, we’re excited about you being here.  I’m Dave Roberts, the Sunday School Superintendent’ and this is one of our teachers, Bill Walker.”

Bill smiled weakly, and shook the guy’s hands as well.

“It’s a pleasure to be here, and to see you guys again.  I’m Chris Smith, and this is Tom Howard.  The rest of the guys are unloading our equipment.”

Dave looked confused, as he asked, “So you’ve been here before?”

“Oh yes Sir,” Chris replied.  “As a matter of fact, Mr. Walker was my Sunday School teacher.”

The men exchanged a look of shock before Bill turned to Chris, and confessed, “I’m sorry, you do look familiar to me, but your name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Chris smiled knowingly, “Back then they called me Willie.”

“O Lord,” Bill exclaimed. “Little Willie Smith!  Of course, I remember you now!”

“It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me Willie,” Chris chuckled.

Dave exuberantly asserted, “So you guys have some history together?”

“Oh yeah,” Bill nodded.  We’ve definitely got some memories.”

Sheepishly, Chris nodded in agreement, “Yeah, some pretty bad memories really.”

Again, confused, Dave asked, “Bad memories?”

“Willie, I mean Chris, was going through a tough time back then,” Bill defended.

“It’s true,” Chris affirmed.  “It was probably the lowest time in my life.  I was here living with my Aunt, while my parents tried to work out their problems with the law, and each other.  I was pretty angry, and I definitely didn’t want to be in church.”

With a look of satisfaction, Dave said, “I guess things changed after you got to know the people here.”

Chris grimaced slightly, “I wish I could say that was true.  Honestly, I was hateful to everyone here, especially Mr. Walker.  This is part of the reason that I wanted to come back; to apologize, and to let you know that you didn’t waste your time on me.”

Bill’s voice was noticeably softer as he continued, “As I remember, you went back to your parents.  I guess they got their issues worked out.”

“Not really,” Chris replied. “My Aunt sent me back because she said that I was unmanageable.  Things got a lot worse after that.  My father eventually went to jail, and the courts took me away from my Mom.  I was raised in a Foster home after that.”

Dave almost seemed to be pleading, “So,I guess they got you back in church?”

“No, they were good people, but they weren’t church people,” he said.

“So how do you go from where you were to a Christian Rock band?” Bill asked.

“By the time I was taken from my mother, I was so angry, and depressed that I was thinking about killing myself.  I had actually planned it out, but then I remembered something you showed us in class,” he said turning toward Bill.  “Do you remember the string that you had that stretched all the way across the room, with the little piece of string hanging from the middle of it?”

“Oh sure,” Bill nodded. “I still have that in my classroom to teach kids about how short this life is compared to eternity.”

Well it works,” Chris declared.  “I remembered that picture in my mind, and I realized that killing myself might end the pain of this life, but that it would simply be trading it for an eternity of pain.  That depressed me even more, but then I remembered when you taught about the prodigal son, and you said that no matter what happens you can always come home to Jesus.  I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so that night, alone in my bedroom, I asked Him to come into my life, and to help me.  And He did.”

Dave could see Bill’s eyes filling with tears, as he exclaimed, “Wow, what a great testimony.”

“You know Chris gives his testimony at every concert, and we’ve seen hundreds of kids give their hearts to the Lord,” Tom added.  “Many of them talk about how someone once told them about Jesus, but that it wasn’t until they reached the bottom that they were willing to call out for help.  As a matter of fact we wrote a song about it for our second CD.”

“Wow!” Dave gasped.

Yeah, it’s called “Believing for the Harvest,” Chris added.  “I thought of how Mr. Walker’s ministry had touched my life, and I knew that he’d probably never know about it.  It struck me that there are a lot of faithful servants out there who pour themselves into kids, without ever knowing whether they’re making a difference.  I guess I wanted to honor their service and their faith.”

Pulling out a CD from his case, Tom said, “I just remembered that Chris wrote a little dedication for the song that we put on the CD cover.  It says, ‘This song is dedicated to Mr. Bill Walker, and to diligent servants like him, who are faithful to sow and water, knowing that they may never get to witness the harvest.  They will never fully understand the impact their lives have made until they get to their Father in Heaven’.

Bill could no longer contain the tears, as Chris warmly embraced him, “Thank you Mr. Walker.”

“Thank you Willie,” he whispered.

As the two men separated, Tom stepped up and hugged Bill as well, “I want to thank you too Mr. Walker.”

“For what?” he queried.

“Well, Chris is the one who led me to the Lord, so I figure that I also owe you some thanks.”

“God bless you son,” Bill cried.

As the men separated, Chris declared, “We really need to go help the guys set up the stage; maybe we can get together afterward, and talk some more.”

“That would be great,” Bill said as he wiped his eyes.

As Chris and Tom headed out the door, Dave turned to Bill, and smiled, “Where were we?”

Bill smiled sheepishly, and replied, “I believe that I was saying how excited I was about tonight’s outreach, and how I can’t wait to get back into class on Sunday morning.”

Dave’s expression grew more serious, and with his voice was filled with emotion, as he said, “God bless you Bill.”

Tears once again began to flow, as Bill choked, “God bless you Dave.”

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(Another older writing)

Today, it all became clear to me.  It wasn’t always that way; for many years I felt caught between two worlds or more accurately between two brothers.  I (Marcus) was the second of my fathers’ three sons; born seven years after my brother Phillip and just a year before my brother Andrew.  My father is the King of this great land and of course that makes each of us a Prince.  The affairs of the kingdom have kept my father away for as long as I can remember and thus much of what I know of him has come through my older brother Phillip. 

As the first born and the first heir to the throne, he has access to things within the kingdom that Andrew and I don’t.  I’ve never struggled with that knowledge, but it has always been a point of resentment for Andrew.  He’s never seemed content with his role in our family or in the kingdom.  All through our childhood his discontent grew stronger, along with his resentment of Phillip.  I tried to stay out of that conflict, but eventually I was drawn into the middle and forced to choose a side.  To understand that choice, I must go back to the beginning.

Andrew and I have always been close; I suppose this is largely due to the small difference in our age and the fact that Princes rarely have the opportunity to interact with other children.  Even so, our temperaments seemed to fit well together.  Andrew is fierce and impulsive; full of passion, emotion and expression; while I am naturally cautious and thoughtful; more of an observer and slower to speak.  Though I am older, I’ve always tended to yield to Andrew, even in the times when I’ve disagreed with him.  I guess that I’ve rarely felt passionate enough about my own beliefs to fight with him; and to disagree with Andrew will always mean a fight.  We spent almost every waking moment of our childhood together and this forged an unbreakable bond between us, or so I thought.

Phillip is very much a reflection of our father.  He is even tempered, wise beyond his years and deliberate in all that he does. He always seemed much older than us and has always been busy with the matters of the kingdom.  I can scarcely remember a time when he’s acted like a child, even when he was one.  Everything that he says or does seems to be motivated by either, “the kingdom calls” or “it is what father would want”. 

Those phrases tend to aggravate Andrew, but I’ve never sensed any pretense in Phillip, so I tend to view them as noble.  Phillip was always fair with us, though he could be very firm as well.  I know that he was aware of Andrews’ feelings toward him, yet he never acknowledged them or acted in a way that I thought was retaliatory.  He didn’t really have to force us to do anything, but often Andrew would complain bitterly whenever he asked anything of us.  Though Phillip and I are probably more alike, we’ve rarely spent much time together and thus we haven’t shared the closeness that Andrew and I have.

As we reached early manhood, I sensed Andrew becoming more distant.  He would leave the palace and be gone all day.  He was rarely willing to speak of where he had been or what he’d been doing.  In this time, his resentment for Phillip seemed to grow into hatred.  Just the sight of him would cause Andrew to seethe.  On occasion I tried to reason with Andrew about this condition, but his anger would normally just turn on me, so I quickly abandoned that effort.  As much as I could, I tried to remain neutral, but the day eventually came when that became impossible.

Late one evening, I was lying in my chamber, when I heard the foot steps of many men moving through the passageway.  I quickly moved to the door, just in time to see the door of Andrew’s chamber close.  I quietly moved down the passageway, intent on learning the source of this commotion, and as I paused at the door, I could hear Andrews’ impassioned voice.  He was describing how they were going to overtake and kill “him” and I suddenly realized that the “him” that they were speaking of was Phillip. 

I was immediately torn as whether to burst into the chamber, letting them know that their plan was exposed or whether I ought to run to Phillip.  After a momentary pause, I chose the latter and quickly went to awaken Phillip.  Even coming out of a deep sleep, he seemed immediately coherent and calm.  As I excitedly conveyed what I’d heard, he didn’t seem at all worried or even surprised.  When I was finished, he told me that he knew that this day would eventually come and then he asked me a disturbing question.  He said, “Which side are you going to take”? 

I was instantly irritated by the idea that he would expect me to choose between my brothers and after some hesitation, I blurted that out.  Phillip calmly agreed that no man should ever have to make such a choice, but went on to say that all of my tomorrows would hinge on that choice tonight.  He also reminded me that if Andrew was successful in killing him, that I would be the next in line for the throne, which is something that I’d not yet considered.  Phillip genuinely seemed more concerned with what decision I was going to make, than with the fact that Andrew and his accomplices could arrive at any moment. 

It felt as though either way I chose to go, one of my brothers surely would be destroyed.  I asked Phillip, “how does one make such a choice”, to which Phillip replied, “For me it is simple; what would father have me do”, “but the question you must resolve is whether that will be your standard”?   As I sat there in a daze, Phillip eventually broke the silence, thanking me for warning him and assuring me that he would handle Andrew’s uprising.  Before I departed from him, he reiterated that no matter what happened, whether I acted or failed to act, I will have made a choice.

As I made my way back, I noticed that all was silent in Andrew’s chamber and I tried to convince myself that it had all been talk; but as I stepped through my own door, a voice emerged from the shadows, “good evening Marcus”.  Surprised, I stammered, “Andrew, what are you doing here”?  He said, “I’ve come to speak with you brother, where have you been so late in the evening”?  I replied, “Well it seems as though we’re all having difficulty with sleep tonight, what is it that you’ve come to speak about”?  “We’ve come to discuss the future of the throne”.  “We”, I replied; “Yes, I’ve some friends with me”, said Andrew.  I could sense their menacing presence in the room as I said, “Since when does a brother need friends to speak to his brother”?  To which Andrew replied, “My friends haven’t come for you”. 

“Who have they come for” I inquired.  “I think you know” responded Andrew.  I let out a sigh and said, “Yes I suppose I do; but then what happens”?  “Why you’ll become the first heir to the throne of course”, he replied.  After a silent moment, I asked, “What if I refuse to be a part of this…brother”.  At that moment Andrew stepped out of the shadows, with his sword drawn and moved slowly toward me.  Upon reaching me, he raised the tip of his sword to my chest, just poking through the cloth of my shirt and said, “The choice is yours…brother”.

I could barely breathe at the revelation that my own brother was willing to destroy me, but before I could respond, Phillip and a squad of palace guards poured through the door.  Before Andrew could fully turn, Phillip had knocked the sword from his hand and had his sword drawn on Andrew, while his accomplices were immediately subdued by the guards.  To my surprise, Phillip did not address Andrew, but instead he queried me. 

He asked, “So have you decided Marcus”?  “Decided what”, I responded weakly.  “Which side you choose”, said Phillip?  After a moment I asked, “What if I choose Andrews’ side”?  “If that is your decision, I will lay down my sword, surrender my claim to the throne and put myself at Andrews’ mercy”.  His words were like a kick in my stomach, no matter what I chose it would mean the destruction of one of my brothers.  As my mind flooded with thoughts and memories; memories of Andrew and I laughing together as children, thoughts of his sword at my chest; it suddenly became very clear to me and I said the only thing I could think of, “what would father want”? 

At those words Andrew screamed in agony and it was finished.

In the time that has passed since that night, I’ve often wrestled with whether I’d made the right decision, but today it was resolved forever in my mind.  Today, our Father came home.

This story is a parable about the relationship between our body, soul and spirit.  In the story, Andrew represents the body, or more rightly our flesh (i.e. our carnal nature).  We naturally feel more connected to the flesh, because we grew up being guided by it and our relationship is much closer than to that of the spirit.  Like Andrew, the flesh always wants its way, even to the eternal destruction of the soul.  Phillip on the other hand represents our spirit, which is our connection to the spiritual realm and to our Father in heaven.  Like Phillip, the spirit is motivated by the things of the kingdom and is edified by doing the Fathers will.  As in the story, the spirit is not willing to destroy the soul to gets its own way, but if we are willing to submit (through our spirit) to the leadership of the Holy Spirit, the kingdom rule of our King will be manifest, even in His apparent absence. Marcus represents our soul (i.e. our mind, will and emotions), which is what makes us who we are and lives on for eternity.  As in the story, we don’t like to have to choose, but the Bible clearly says that the flesh wars against the spirit and that what is pleasing to the flesh is not pleasing to the spirit; it goes on to say that the flesh needs to be put to death, so that we can partake of a life in the Spirit.  While the battle between the flesh and the Spirit may be difficult and confusing today, it won’t be on the day we come face to face with “Our Father”. 

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(Written many years ago)

Barry stared at the seemingly endless and unchanging landscape of the Arizona desert, as the bus crept down the highway.  Though not even six months had passed since his 21st birthday, he felt much older.  His view of the world and of life itself had changed a lot in the three years since he’d left his hometown in Selby, Oklahoma, to join the Army.  Nothing in his upbringing there had prepared him for the things that he’d seen and experienced since he’d left. 

Selby was a very small town that was in the middle of nowhere; even the few people from Oklahoma that Barry had met while in the Army, had never heard of it.  The town had sprung up during the oil boom in the early 1900s, and years later a pipeline pumping station was built there to load crude oil into tank cars, which were then moved to refineries in the south of Texas.  Pretty much anyone who lived in Selby either worked for the railroad or the oil company, though a few people tried to raise some cattle or sheep on the side. 

There was no hotel in town because no one ever came to visit and no one had a television set, because there wasn’t a signal that reached the area.  Barry’s family lived on the edge of the community, on a ten-acre tract that most people would consider a “dirt farm”.  The soil wasn’t fit for growing anything, but Barry’s father managed to support enough livestock to keep his family supplied with eggs, milk, and on occasion, some fresh pork.  Though his father worked long days for the railroad, Barry tended to think of him as more of a farmer.

Though many a small town boy has entertained dreams of leaving the confines of their upbringing, Barry wasn’t one of them.  He loved his family and the life that they had in Selby.  It was a tight knit community, where everyone felt like kin and Barry had no desire to live anywhere else.  But in 1972, the year that he’d turned 18, the United States was still deeply entrenched in the Vietnam War, and he felt that it was his duty to serve his country. 

The week after he graduated, his father drove him to the nearest recruiting station, which was over two hours away.  Though Barry had not been anxious about this decision, a wave of loneliness and fear swept over him as he watched his father drive away.  He felt sure, in that moment, that life would never be the same, and the years since had been proof that he was right. 

Barry was a quiet and thoughtful young man with a very developed sense of right and wrong.  His upbringing had cultivated a deep and abiding faith in God, which seemed to affect the way he viewed everything.  In the Army, they often referred to him as “preacher man”, because of his habit of carrying his Bible with him everywhere he went; though Barry was never one to preach to anybody.  He was more of a listener and observer.  He seemed to run to the scripture more to find a context for what he was observing than to create a sermon for someone else. 

During his years in Selby, he had experienced very little turmoil, so as he ventured from there, he was shocked by the emotional pitch of the times.  In his mind, it was like driving into a tornado.  As grieved as he found himself over the condition of his own country, what he saw in Vietnam shook him to his foundations.  He was not one to question God’s goodness, and so he viewed these things as the byproduct of man’s fallen nature.  As such, they only served to reinforce his belief that God’s intervention is man’s only hope. 

As Barry laid his head back against the bus seat, the emotional and spiritual exhaustion of the last three years seemed to weigh upon him.  He wondered what the next chapter of his life was going to look like, and those thoughts of the future made him wish that God would simply come and take him to heaven, like He did with Enoch in the Bible.  As he drifted off to sleep, he whispered beneath his breath, “I just want to be with You, Lord.” 

In what seemed to be only a few short moments later, Barry became aware of his head resting on the shoulder of the man seated next to him, which caused him to jerk his body upright.  As he tried to clear his head & open his eyes, he said, “Excuse me sir, I’m sorry about lying against you like that.”  Before his eyes could focus, he heard a warm voice reply, “That’s not a problem son.”  As he regained his composure, Barry saw that this voice had come from a well preserved man who appeared to be in his early 60s; with a full head of silvery hair and very light blue eyes.  Just as his voice had managed to convey a sense of warmth, so did his glance, which helped to curb Barry’s embarrassment. 

Not really knowing what else to say, Barry began to sink back into his seat when another sudden realization struck him.  He was no longer on a bus; he was now seated in a train. 

Without realizing it, Barry let out an audible gasp and the man sitting next to him said, “Are you all right, son?” 

Again, Barry was at a loss for words, as he quietly stammered, “I must be dreaming.” 

As his eyes met the older man’s, the man said, “It is very dream like, isn’t it?” 

Both his glance and tone let Barry know that this man understood exactly what he was feeling. “So is this a dream?” asked Barry. 

The older man’s face broke into a broad smile as he said, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what is real and what’s a dream.  Maybe we should just ride for awhile and see what happens.” 

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Barry felt compelled to trust this man, as he exhaled some of the tension from his body. 

After a few moments Barry asked the man, “Where exactly is this train heading?” 

To which he replied, “Everyone on this train is heading to a place that they’ve never been before,” and as their eyes again met, he went on to say, “This is the Glory Train.” 

While Barry didn’t really understand what that meant, he could sense that there was profound meaning in it.  He qualified, “God’s glory?” 

“Is there any other kind?” the man replied.

After another awkward pause, Barry reached out his hand to the man and introduced himself, “By the way, my name is Barry.” 

As the man grasped his hand he said, “Hi, Barry, my name is Raymond.”  

“I’m pleased to meet you, sir,” Barry responded, before going on to ask, “You seem to know something about what’s going on here.  Can you tell me about this train and how I got on it?” 

Raymond explained that the train had been created specifically for those who were seeking God’s glory and that Barry’s desire for that must have been what brought him aboard.  As Barry looked at the other passengers he noticed the various, and in some cases strange, ways that they were dressed.  When he queried Raymond about it, Raymond explained that the Glory Train itself existed outside of time, but that the passengers had come from many different periods in time.  Barry found the idea to be pretty hard to digest, but he reminded himself that this was probably just a dream and decided not to worry about it. 

For several minutes after that, he sat watching and listening to the other passengers.   The conversations seemed to blend into a low, undistinguishable murmur, until the heated words of a man sitting just in front of them cut through the background. 

“This is totally unacceptable!  I will not have my name attached to some third-rate, amateurish effort like this!  You’re not going to accomplish anything for the Kingdom unless you start demanding excellence from yourself and from everyone else!  You need to get this out of my face!” 

As the man’s terse words ebbed, a well dressed young man with a distressed look on his face moved quickly from the seats in front of them and down the aisle.  Raymond stood up and leaned against the seat in front of him, asking, “Is everything all right my friend?” 

The man sitting in front of them quickly stood to his feet and spun around; and with a tone quite unlike the one he’d used with his young assistant said, “Oh, yes, everything’s just fine.  It’s just this boy I’ve been discipling.  He just doesn’t get it.”  

“Get what?” asked Raymond  

“Oh, you know, the Kingdom,” replied the man. 

“Ah yes, the Kingdom,” Raymond said knowingly.  As he reached his hand out to the man, he said, “My name is Raymond.” 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Raymond, I am Apostle Terrance Jones.” 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Terrance.  This is my friend Barry,” Raymond said as he motioned toward Barry. 

Barry quickly stood, offering his hand as he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“The pleasure is mine, Barry.  I just love young people,” Terrance replied.  “In fact, you may have heard of some of the youth-oriented programs our ministry offers,” he continued. 

But before he could go on, Raymond interrupted to say, “Barry comes from a different time period than that of your ministry.” 

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” continued Terrance, “But I just happen to have some samples with me.” 

Reaching down into his seat, Terrance pulled a laptop computer from his case and inserted a disc.  Barry watched in amazement as the disc played.  It detailed Terrance’s rise from the humble beginnings of a small rural church to the renown that accompanies international ministry.  There was footage of him storming across the stages of packed arenas, of people crying and falling on the ground as he lay hands on them, of the beautiful facilities that the ministry had built all over the world, and there were endorsements for all of the resources available from his ministry.  Barry had never seen anything like it, especially not associated with church. 

When the disc ended, Raymond said, “That’s very impressive,” which seemed to please Terrance, but he then went on to say, “We just wanted to make sure that your young friend was okay,” which seemed to make him uncomfortable. 

“Oh, yes, he’ll be fine.  He’s like my little Elisha.  He sees my anointing and wants to wear my mantle, but every once in a while I have to tell him to go away to test his desire for it.  I’ve told him many times that if he wants my anointing, he’s going to have to serve me without question.  This is all just a part of his discipleship,” Terrance concluded smugly. 

“Ah yes, discipleship,” said Raymond.  After a somewhat awkward pause, he continued, “Well we certainly didn’t mean to intrude, it was a pleasure meeting you, Terrance.” 

Terrance thanked them as well and upon gathering his things, he moved down the aisle in the same direction that his assistant had fled.

As they sat back down in their seats, Raymond could see that Barry was troubled, and he asked, “So what do you make of all that?” 

Barry thought about it for a moment and finally replied, “I find it kind of disturbing I guess.” 

“In what way?” asked Raymond. 

“In a lot of different ways, really; but I guess he probably knows a lot of things that I don’t, so it’s better that I don’t say anything,” Barry replied sheepishly. 

“What do you think he knows that you don’t?” asked Raymond. 

“I don’t know, I mean he went to bible college and he’s been ministering for years and he’s obviously been very successful with it, so who am I to question what he says?” he answered. 

“Well, I’ve been around for awhile myself and some of what he said raised a few questions for me too; so why don’t we share our questions and see if we can help each other out?” suggested Raymond. 

“Well that seems like it should be okay.  You go first,” replied Barry. 

“All right”, said Raymond. “What did you think about his explanation of discipleship?” 

“I think that I understand the relationship between Elijah and Elisha, but I wonder if that should be our model for discipleship today?” he said.  “I mean, back then, they didn’t have Jesus or the Holy Spirit living inside of them, so I guess all they could do was to chase after someone who they figured had tapped into God in a way that they hadn’t.  For Elisha, Elijah was probably the closest thing to Jesus that he ever knew, but it seems to me that it shouldn’t work like that anymore,” Barry concluded. 

“Why not?” asked Raymond. 

“Well, because Jesus came and accomplished everything for us, He reconnected us to God, He gave us an example of how to live, He gave us the Holy Spirit, and so we don’t have to chase after someone else’s connection to God, we’ve got one of our own,” Barry replied. 

“That’s very good, Barry, but what about this young man’s desire for Terrance’s anointing?  I mean wouldn’t you like to have a big successful ministry like that?” asked Raymond. 

Barry thought for a moment and said, “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t find that idea kind of appealing, but that sort of seems like covetousness to me.  I guess that I believe that God formed me with His very own hands for a specific reason, and that I ought to be seeking what He’s anointed me to do instead of coveting what He’s already done in someone else.” 

Raymond smiled and said, “Very good my young friend, very good.” 

Before they could continue their conversation, a monotone voice came over the railcar speaker, announcing that they were pulling into Kingdom Station.  This drew Barry’s attention away from their conversation, as he craned his neck to see what was happening.

As the train crept to a halt, Barry asked Raymond about what this stop was for.  Raymond explained that the Glory Train stopped at several stations, and this stop was for those who were seeking a revelation of God’s glory through His kingdom.  After explaining that he could only get off of the train at one stop, he asked Barry whether he felt that this was the one.  Barry asked how he could know and Raymond assured him that when the time came, there would be no doubt about where to get off the train.  In light of Raymond’s answer, Barry said that this must not be his stop, and within a few minutes the train was once again underway.  After the commotion of the stop calmed down, Raymond and Barry got back to their conversation.

“So we were talking about what disturbed you during our time with Brother Terrance,” began Raymond. 

“Oh yeah,” replied Barry.  “Well, I guess I’ve got a pretty simplistic way of looking at things, but shouldn’t a man who’s spent so much of his life in ministry seem a little more like Christ?” he continued. 

Raymond again smiled and asked, “Why would you expect him to resemble Christ?” 

“Well I guess it’s because the scripture says that we are destined to be conformed to the image of Christ and because of the fruit of Holy Spirit,” Barry replied. 

“What about the fruit of the Holy Spirit?” asked Raymond. 

“I don’t know, maybe I don’t have the right understanding of this, but I always thought that as we give control of our lives over to the Holy Spirit that people should start to see the fruit of the Spirit in us,” he replied. 

“So you didn’t see any of that fruit?” asked Raymond. 

“Well, not really.  I sure couldn’t use words like peace, patience, self control, kindness, gentleness, or joy to describe the way that he talked to his assistant, but honestly, I didn’t see any of that in his little movies either,” he replied. 

“How would you describe what you saw?” Raymond asked. 

Barry was quiet for a few moments and then his face broke into a smile. 

Raymond asked, “What is it?” 

“It’s nothing really,” said Barry. 

“No, it’s something, be honest,” he prodded. 

“Well, I don’t want to be disrespectful, but have you ever heard of the singer James Brown?” 

“You mean the guy they call ‘The Hardest Working Man in Show Business’?” answered Raymond. 

“Yes, that’s the guy,” Barry said with a big smile “Even though this pastor was talking about God, with all that running around and shaking, and shouting, and sweating, and working the crowd into a frenzy, he seemed a lot more like James Brown than Jesus Christ.” 

Raymond laughed loudly, but Barry only smiled, as he was still worried about appearing to be disrespectful. 

When Raymond’s amusement subsided he said, “I take it that isn’t how the pastor did it in your church back home?” 

“Well, actually we didn’t really have a pastor,” replied Barry. 

“Really, why not?” he asked. 

“Well, Selby was too small and too far away from anything.  Besides we couldn’t afford to pay a pastor,” Barry explained. 

“So what did you do?” 

“Well my dad pretty much led the services,” he answered. 

“Really.  So what were those services like?” continued Raymond. 

Barry’s eyes seemed to lock into a stare, as if he were reliving the past, and he said, “Everyone would come to the Union Hall at around 11:00 on Sunday morning, with pots, pans and bowls of food, which the ladies would put in the kitchen.  My Aunt Ruth would always lead us in a couple of hymns, then we’d have a time of prayer where anyone who had something on their heart could lead out.  When that was finished, my dad would always pray that the Lord would open our eyes, ears and hearts to the Word.  Then he’d read whatever scripture he felt the Lord was leading Him to share. 

Sometimes he’d say what he thought it meant, but he would always remind us, that as children of God, we needed to go to the Lord directly for our understanding of scripture.  He’d always end the service with a prayer of thanks for the previous week, for God’s hand to be on us in the coming week and a blessing over the food.  He’d also remind us that, ‘His sheep know His voice’ and to be listening for that voice in the week to come.  Then we’d all move into the part of the hall that had the tables and eat lunch together.” 

“Wow that sounds wonderful,” said Raymond. 

Barry’s eyes seemed to return to the present and he said, “It wasn’t very exciting, but it’s what I grew up thinking church ought to be.” 

“Now that you’ve been some other places, have you changed your mind about that?” asked Raymond. 

After a thoughtful pause Barry replied, “No, actually I think what I’ve seen since then has only made me believe that even more.” 

Raymond was shaking his head in agreement when the railcar speaker crackled with the announcement that the train was pulling into Firetown.

As they continued their journey, Raymond continued to ask Barry questions.  Even though Barry wasn’t very fond of talking, Raymond kept asking about things that were close to his heart.  Barry wanted to ask Raymond some questions too, but he wasn’t able to steer the conversation like Raymond seemed to be able to. 

At each stop, Raymond would ask if this was the one and when Barry would say that he didn’t think so, he would ask him why he didn’t think so.  It forced Barry to express his beliefs in a way that he never had, and even he was surprised at some of the things that came out of his mouth.  He hadn’t remembered thinking some of the things that he said, but they were, without a doubt, his convictions.  He was also surprised by how at ease he was with Raymond.  It normally took Barry awhile to warm to someone, but he seemed to have an instant bond with him. 

With each stop, they seemed to get deeper in conversation about the things of the Kingdom, like the fire of God, God’s grace, God’s love of the lost, knowledge, wisdom, miracles, the anointing, abundance.  It seemed that they had been riding all day, and as they pulled out of the Miracle City station, the expression on Raymond’s face grew serious.

“Barry, I have to tell you that was the last scheduled stop for the train on this run.” 

Barry’s looked somewhat distressed and said, “I thought that you said that I’d know where to get off and that there wouldn’t be any doubt?” 

“Indeed, that is what I said,” replied Raymond. 

“But I don’t understand.  I mean as attractive as all of those stops were, I didn’t believe that I should get off there.  Now you’re saying that I’ve somehow missed it?” exclaimed Barry! 

“Missed what?” Raymond asked calmly. 

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me,” said Barry. 

“I’m asking you what you came here to find?” said Raymond. 

“I thought you said that everyone came looking for God’s glory?” 

“Again, you are correct, I did say that.  But as you can see God manifests His glory in many things, which is why there were so many stops.  But none of them represented His glory sufficiently enough for you to choose them.  So the question that I’m posing to you is where do you hope to find God’s glory?” 

Barry was confused by the question and he didn’t understand why Raymond seemed to know everything else, but that he couldn’t (or maybe wouldn’t) tell him this answer.  He closed his eyes and began to silently pray that God would help him, and he began to have a vision of a hand reaching toward him.  It was a strong, rugged looking hand, but it moved in a manner that seemed very gentle.  As the hand reached him, it lovingly stroked his face, and he began to weep. 

Barry opened his tear filled eyes and quietly said to Raymond, “Jesus… it is Jesus that I’m looking for… that’s where I hope to find God’s glory…Jesus.” 

Raymond’s eyes seemed to be filled with loving approval, as he slowly put his hand on Barry’s shoulder and whispered, “Very good son…very good.” 

Barry dropped his head and quietly wept, as Raymond rubbed his shoulder.  After a few minutes Raymond asked, “What is it, son?” 

As Barry raised his head, he said, “I just want to see Him glorified in my life.” 

As Raymond looked deeply into his face, he replied, “Do you understand how rare that is?” 

Barry looked confused and said, “I thought you said that everyone on this train was seeking to glorify Him?” 

Raymond shook his head vigorously, “No, no I said that everyone was seeking His glory, not that they were seeking to glorify Him.” 

Still confused, Barry said, “I don’t understand, if it’s not to glorify Him, then what are they seeking His glory for?” 

“It can be different things with different people, but rest assured that His glory will expose the motivation of every heart.” 

For several minutes they rode quietly as a profound sense of God’s nearness resonated in Barry.  Suddenly, he was aware of the train slowing and Barry looked to Raymond for an explanation.  Raymond didn’t seem at all surprised and said, “We’re here.” 

“We’re where?” asked Barry. 

“At your stop,” he replied. 

“But I thought that you said that there were no more stops?” Barry said. 

“No, I said that there were no more scheduled stops.” 

As the train crept to a stand still, Raymond led Barry to the door of the railcar.  As they stepped into the warm outside air, Barry could see that there was no station, no platform, not even a marker.  The only thing that Barry saw was a dirt road that seemed to lead through the desert, to an empty horizon.

“What is this place?” asked Barry.

“It is the way,” he replied. 

“The way to what?” Barry continued. 

“The way to what you’re looking for.”

“I don’t understand, if this is the way to Jesus, then why is there no station or scheduled stop here?”

Raymond’s face grew serious as he replied, “Because the train is normally empty by the time we get this far.” 

A sense of wonder and grief washed over Barry, as he stared across the landscape.  “How will I know where to go?” 

“Stay on the road and you won’t be able to miss it,” replied Raymond. 

As Barry stepped off the train, he could feel the sandy soil shift beneath his feet and his eyes strained to look for any sign of life on the horizon.  Now that he was standing on it, Barry could see that the dirt road that cut across the desert was really just a narrow path that appeared to be perfectly straight and level.  He breathed a heavy sigh and turned to say farewell to Raymond, when he saw that he, the train, and even the tracks were gone.  There was no sign that they’d ever been there. 

Suddenly feeling very alone, Barry tried to console himself that this was probably a dream, but fear and discouragement began to well up inside of him.  He closed his eyes and prayed beneath his breath, “Help me, Lord Jesus, help me.”  This seemed to curb his apprehension some, and he slowly began down the path.

As Barry shuffled along, hunger, thirst and fatigue began to gnaw at him.  His mind began to drift back to the train and his conversations with Raymond.  He wondered if he’d made a mistake by not getting off the train sooner, but he quickly consoled himself with the thought that nothing was more worthy of his pursuit than Jesus. 

After several minutes of being lost in his thoughts, it occurred to Barry that he hadn’t checked the horizon for a while.  Without any real sense of expectation, he raised his eyes and glanced down the path.  To his surprise, he saw a wooden shed just a couple of hundred feet ahead of him.  His heart began to throb in his chest, as his anxiousness at not finding his way became anxiousness at what he might find.  He instinctively began to pray, “Help me, Lord Jesus, help me.”

The shed was the size of a small barn, with darkly stained, vertically mounted boards covering the outside.  The wooden-framed windows and the single entry door in the front gave it the appearance of an old general store, like the ones Barry had seen in pictures from the frontier days.  Though there was a large window near the front door, he could not clearly see what was inside. 

As he approached the door, he noticed an old paper sign in the lower corner of the window, which said, “Open, Please Come In.”  Even though he hadn’t seen any indication of life within the shed, the invitation of the sign helped to calm him some.  His hands trembled as he reached for the door, and he unconsciously held his breath as he stepped across the threshold into a large open room. 

The air within the room seemed cool and light, compared to the heavy warm air of the desert.  The interior of the room seemed dark because of the rich cherry-stained wood that covered the walls and floor.  The room had the appearance of a furniture gallery, with many different pieces of wooden furniture throughout.  Several of the pieces were beautifully stained and polished, with each piece taking on a different wood tone. 

In one corner of the room there were other pieces that appeared to be constructed of raw wood and not yet stained or finished.  The smell of wood stain and varnish filled the air.  Though Barry knew very little about woodworking, he sensed that these pieces were very special.  The atmosphere in the room heightened his sense of being invited and a fresh wave of peace washed over him as he slowly moved amongst the furniture.

Suddenly a voice from behind him said, “You’re here.”  Barry was startled by this break in the silence, and he quickly spun around to see a tall man standing in the doorway to what appeared to be a back room.  The man had on a sleeveless linen work shirt, long linen pants, and what appeared to be a tool belt around his waist.  Though he was not exceptionally large, he was powerfully built.  His bearded face was rugged but pleasant, and as Barry looked into his eyes, he immediately understood that this was Jesus. 

Along with this realization came a sense of awe that caused Barry to remain motionless and speechless.  His heart was filled with emotion and there were so many things that he wanted to express, but his mouth was as dry as the desert sand and he could not seem to move.  In his mind, he pictured himself falling at the Lord’s feet, but his body remained unresponsive.  Jesus seemed to understand his dilemma and said, “Here, why don’t you sit down,” as He pulled a chair away from a nearby table. 

Barry was embarrassed, and he felt as though he was underwater and moving in slow motion as he struggled to get to the chair.  He tried to muster a loud, clear voice, but his “thank you” came out in a whisper, as he came down heavily on the chair.  Jesus smiled knowingly and said, “Let me get you something to eat and drink.”  As He disappeared into the back room, Barry tried desperately to gather himself.

In what seemed to be a very short time, Jesus returned, carrying a tray with a glass pitcher of water, two water glasses and what smelled like a loaf of fresh bread.  Barry’s perceptions still seemed to be overwhelmed by the presence of the Lord, so he stared intently as Jesus poured them each a glass of water.  He studied Jesus’ strong hands as He placed the glass in front of him and said, “I’m glad that you’ve come.” 

Barry took the glass in his hand, nodded to Jesus and brought it to his lips, just as Jesus did.  As Barry began to drink, the cool fresh water seemed to touch every part of his inner being; a wave of joy and strength seemed to surge through him and his thirst was quenched in a way that he’d never experienced.  As he lowered the glass from his lips, he could perceive Jesus’ face with a clarity that he couldn’t before and he began to ache to be closer to Him.  He felt as though his soul was going to rip itself from his body in order to reach Jesus. 

He then took the loaf in His hands, pulling it into two pieces and reaching one of those pieces across the table to Barry.  Barry’s heart and eyes overflowed at the realization of what was happening between them.  He hesitated to take the bread as he pondered his unworthiness, but the Lord said, “take and eat this bread, it was made especially for you.”  Tears streamed down Barry’s face and his hands trembled as he took the bread. 

As with the water, they both raised the bread to their lips at the same time; and as Barry put the bread in his mouth, it once again seemed to go all through him.  A sensation that he imagined was something like swallowing burning candle wax moved through him; as the initial sense of burning quickly cooled and seemed to coat the inside of him.  He sensed a fullness and completeness within himself that he never could have imagined was possible. 

His eyes remained locked upon the Lord, and he once again found himself full of things that he wanted to say, yet unable to speak.  He thought of the little drummer boy, who wanted to give his best to the Lord, but felt as though he had nothing worthwhile to give.  The Lord’s eyes were filled with understanding as He asked, “do you know what the treasure of heaven is, for Me?”  Barry gave a shallow nod to indicate that he did not.  “It is your heart,” He said. 

The revelation of those words hit Barry like lightning, and in that instant, he remembered the Lord coming to walk with Adam and Eve in the cool of the day, the hurt in the Lords voice as He conveyed His unrequited desire to be Israel’s King, Jesus calling His disciples “friends”; and the day that he first knelt on the floor of the old Union Hall and told the Lord that he wanted to live for Him.  He profoundly understood how valuable his love was to the Lord and how immense the Lord’s love for him was. 

Waves of emotion swept through Barry – joy at the love of the Lord, shame at the imperfection of his love for the Lord, love and gratitude for his Savior, fear of the treason within his nature, warm security in the Lords sovereignty.  They all bubbled within him, though everything seemed to melt into tears of joy. 

Barry desired to express his love to the Lord, but all that came from his lips were the whispered words, “I am Yours, I am Yours.”  The Lord’s eyes blazed with love as He reached across the table and took Barry’s hands, saying “Yes, you are Mine.”  It was all more than Barry’s senses could process. 

He felt at once completely broken & yet wonderfully whole, totally inadequate & yet completely accepted, without any strength of his own & yet totally empowered.  He lowered his forehead onto Jesus’ outstretched forearms and wept without restraint as his heart continued to overflow.  After what seemed to be a long time, waves of peace began to wash over him, as the emotional intensity ebbed and he began to feel weightless.  In this quiet state of euphoria, he drifted into a deep and restful sleep.

Since this place seemed to exist outside of time, it was impossible to tell how long he had slept, but Barry felt completely refreshed when he awoke.  As he raised his head from the table, he looked longingly for Jesus, but he could sense that He was no longer there; though even the residue of His presence brought a sense of great peace. 

As he sat back in the chair, he noticed a small piece of paper on the table.   Picking it up, he saw that Jesus had written the words, “Please come again.”  His heart once again welled up with emotion and he smiled, saying “I will, Lord, I will.” 

Barry briefly wondered what to do next, but his profound sense of well being prevented him from worrying about it.  He slowly got up and took one last look around the room as he found himself wanting to remember everything about it.  With one final glance over his shoulder as he turned the doorknob, he stepped from the coolness of the room into the warm air of the desert. 

To his surprise, he found that the Glory Train was waiting for him just outside, and that the tracks that had disappeared earlier were now routed up to the shed as if it were a station.  Raymond was standing in the doorway to the passenger car with a big smile, and for the first time it occurred to Barry who He was. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” asked Raymond. 

Barry smiled, and replied, “Like all of the other questions that you’ve asked me, you know the answer.” 

Raymond laughed and said, “Indeed, I do.  Are you ready to go home?” 

“Can I stay here?” he asked, with a knowing smile.

“No, there is much left to do,” replied Raymond.

“Then I guess I’m ready.”

Barry stepped onto the rail car and followed Raymond to their seats.  “Where is everyone?” he asked. 

“Well this train is still bound for glory, so everyone who missed this stop still has some traveling to do,” replied Raymond. 

“I guess I understand what you’re saying, but how will me going home be anymore glorious than this?” he asked. 

“Because it is Christ in you that is the hope of glory for the world,” answered Raymond. 

The train lurched forward and Barry sat quietly pondering what Raymond had said.  After a few minutes, he turned to Raymond and said, “thank you.” 

“For what?” asked Raymond. 

“For being my comforter and counselor and for guiding me to my destiny,” he answered. 

Raymond smiled and it appeared as though there were tears in his eyes as he said, “It is my pleasure.”  They sat silently for a few more minutes before Raymond said, “maybe you ought to get some rest, it’s a long way home.”  Barry nodded, and laid his head back against the seat.  Within a couple of minutes he was asleep.

He felt as though he’d just dozed off, when something fell on his feet and woke him.  He quickly looked down and realized that his Bible had slipped off his lap.  As he picked it up, he recognized that he was no longer on the train, but back on the bus.  He leaned back against his seat and stared out the window.  Somehow the Arizona desert didn’t seem so desolate anymore.  In fact, he could see that it was really quite beautiful in its own way.  The vastness of it seemed to stir a sense of endless possibility within him, and the long highway gave him a sense that he was heading toward his destiny. 

He wondered if what he’d experienced was a dream or a vision or some sort of out of body experience, but in the end he supposed that it really didn’t matter; because the truth of what he saw and felt was undeniable to him.  He understood that whatever his new life would bring, it would be Christ in him that would be the hope of glory.  After a few minutes of soaking in this blessed assurance, he decided to read his Bible for awhile.  As he opened the book, he saw a small piece of paper between the pages; pulling it out, he read the words, “Please come again.” 

Looking upward, he whispered, “I will, Lord, I will.”

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(Written many years ago)

Long ago, in a kingdom far away, there was a magnificent king, whose reign was without precedence.  His wife the queen had borne him many sons, and with each kingdom that his army conquered, he would crown one of his sons as the ruler over that new land.  This continued until all of his sons were on the thrones of their own kingdoms.  Yet even then his domain grew.

On this night, the king’s palace was filled with the noise that accompanies a large celebration; there was music and laughter and occasionally boisterous shouts of joy.  Despite these festivities, the king’s personal servant (Thaddeus) noticed that the king was alone on the vast balcony adjacent to the ballroom.  Though Thaddeus knew from the king’s posture that he was deep in thought, his affection for the king compelled him to interrupt.  He was not afraid to approach, as the king was always patient and kind with his servants.  As Thaddeus reached him, he bowed low and said,

“Begging your pardon, sire, is all well with you?” 

The king’s eyes remained fixed on the dimly lit horizon, but his face shifted into a shallow smile; “You are a faithful servant, Thaddeus, and I am thankful for your concern,” he said. 

This response left Thaddeus in the awkward position of not knowing whether to dismiss himself or to wait for additional response.  As Thaddeus was prone to, he chose to wait.  After a thoughtful pause, the king continued

“I am pondering matters of the kingdom and I find myself with the need to speak of it.”  At that, he turned to Thaddeus and looked him in the eyes.  “Would you be willing to serve me in such a way?” he said. 

Thaddeus felt the blood rush to his face.  While the king had, on occasion, asked him about happenings within the household, he wondered what he could possibly contribute to a discussion on matters of the kingdom.  His voice broke slightly as he responded, “Sire, I will endeavor to serve you in any way that you see fit, but wouldn’t the members of your court be better suited for such a dialogue?” 

“Indeed, that would often be true, but these matters concern them, thus it would seem imprudent in this instance,” he replied. 

Thaddeus bowed his head and said, “Let it be as you wish, lord.”

The king began, “Today, we celebrate the victory over still another foreign kingdom and yet, for the first time, I have not a son to crown as its king.”  Then, after another thoughtful pause he continued, “Many suppose that I have bestowed each of my sons with his own kingdom as a gift to them, yet in truth I meant for each of my sons to be a gift to the people within those lands.  I know the hearts of my sons and had one of them not been true, I would not have entrusted him with a crown.  I have found that royalty is not passed through the bloodlines, but that it is carefully nurtured in one’s heart.  As I look out on the vast horizon, I must now distinguish the man whose heart is prepared to sit upon the throne of this new kingdom.”  Again the king paused, and then thoughtfully said, “The heart of a man is not easily judged by the heart of another.” 

Thaddeus could feel the weight of the king’s thoughts, and hoping to encourage him, he said, “You are a good and wise king, surely you will find this man whom you seek.” 

The king smiled broadly, and with warmth in his face, he asked Thaddeus, “Whom do you see who might be fit for the rule of a kingdom?” 

Thaddeus felt unworthy to even ponder such a thing, but he was intent on serving his king.  “Your court is filled with noble men, lord, surely one of them would be fit,” he responded. 

“Speak freely, Thaddeus, whom do you see?” asked the king.

“I see Sir Fredric, the governor of the southern province, sire.  He seems to be a man of influence and persuasion, knowledgeable in the ways of government and diplomacy.  Surely such a man would make a fine king,” said Thaddeus. 

“Indeed, what you have said of Fredric is true, he is a very capable man and certainly well respected, but while he is knowledgeable in matters of the kingdom, he seems to lack an awareness of those closest to him.  His own family suffers from his neglect of their most basic needs.  A man who fails to provide for his own family is not fit for the leadership of any other,” the king responded. 

Thaddeus was embarrassed by the king’s quick dismissal of his suggestion and he wished that the king would simply dismiss him, but instead the king nodded for him to continue.

“What of your scribe, Denard?  He is a man who knows your decrees and tenants well, a man who is knowledgeable in matters of truth,” suggested Thaddeus. 

“Again, my servant, you have spoken well.  Denard is a man who is knowledgeable of the truth, but, alas, his heart is full of compromise.  Many are the men who acknowledge the truth, but few are those who embrace it.  A man who does not hold to the truth is like a ship without a rudder, he is a vessel unworthy of being followed,” concluded the king. 

Again, Thaddeus yearned to flee from this dialogue.  He was clearly not fit to speak of such things, but again the king nodded for him to continue.

“Sire, what of Sir Stephen, the head of your royal guard?  He seems to be a man without fear, decisive and strong, a leader among men.  Surely such a man could lead a kingdom,” asserted Thaddeus. 

“Indeed, Stephen is a valiant warrior and quite naturally a leader, but he is also a man of little mercy.  While that quality may serve him on the battlefield, it is needful in matters of the kingdom,” said the king. 

Exasperated, Thaddeus allowed his discouragement to spill onto his face, but the patient eyes of the king quickly calmed him.  “Go on,” said the king.

“Lord, what of the sage, Philibus?  He is a man of great wisdom and learning, even you look to him for counsel.  Certainly he would have the wisdom to guide a kingdom,” said Thaddeus.

“Indeed, Philibus is a man full of wise words and I do value his counsel, but wise words are merely seeds, which will only blossom into wisdom when they find a fertile heart to act upon them.  Each person has been endowed with certain gifts, and to be sure, Philibus is among the most gifted men in the kingdom; but while the nature of a gift ought to breed humility, it has instead become vanity in Philibus.  He is a man of little discretion, blinded by his conceit and ambition,” said the king. 

At this, Thaddeus dropped his head, feeling as though he had failed in his service to the king. 

The king sensed this frustration and asked, “Thaddeus, are you my slave or my servant?” 

Thaddeus was surprised by the question and his eyes rose to meet the king’s.  “I am your servant, sire,” he said. 

“What do you see as the difference between the servant and the slave?” 

“The servant is free to leave whenever he chooses,” he replied. 

“Then what keeps you here, Thaddeus?” asked the king. 

“It is my honor to serve you, my king,” he said. 

“Do you despise your station as a mere servant?” asked the king. 

Again, surprised by the question, Thaddeus replied, “No, my lord, I believe that my service is virtuous.” 

The king again smiled broadly and said, “I believe that too.”

Thaddeus was confused by the king’s inquiries and again wondered if he should dismiss himself, but after another short pause, the king began to speak,

“Thaddeus, why shouldn’t I crown you as the king of this new land?” 

Thaddeus was stunned by the king’s question and he stumbled to find words, “I am but a lowly servant,” he said. 

“Do you believe that you are lowly by fate or by destiny?” asked the king. 

Thaddeus had never considered such a thing and was at a loss to respond.  Before he could answer the king answered,

“I believe that it is by fate, but that you have been destined for greater things” 

“My lord, I am honored by your words, but what do I know of ruling a kingdom?” asked Thaddeus. 

“You have been at my side for years, your understanding is deeper than you know and a heart that yearns to serve will always find a way to serve.  It is the only heart that can be entrusted with the lives of the people,” responded the king. 

Thaddeus stared into the compassionate eyes of his king and he felt hot tears streaming down his face.  The king reached down, placing his hand on Thaddeus’ head, and said, “You shall now have a whole kingdom to serve.”

In the years that followed that fateful day, the wise judgment of the magnificent king was affirmed as good king Thaddeus served the people of his kingdom with humility, honesty, wisdom and mercy.

“For it is the one who is least among you all who is the greatest (Luke 9:48)”

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He wasn’t fond of spending time on the computer, but it was the only way he was able to work from home.  To keep business from infiltrating his day to day life, he kept his computer in the office, and his phone notifications turned off. 

He normally checked his e-mail at the beginning and end of every work day, and didn’t worry about it any other time.  Frequently, his Inbox would get clogged with SPAM, and he’d have to do a purge.  Her e-mail was very nearly a casualty of one of those dumps.

The subject line included the name of the online dating service that brokered the contact, and he knew that he’d never have any interest in that sort of thing; but just as he was about to hit the delete button, he remembered a conversation he’d had with his sister (Candace). 

She’d voiced her concern about how much time he spent alone, and his apparent disinterest in the dating process.  He reasoned that if it was meant to be, he shouldn’t need to do anything to make it happen, while she argued that his solitary lifestyle wasn’t likely to create an opportunity to make a genuine connection with anyone. 

She finished the conversation by threatening to set him up with a profile on one of the popular dating sites.  He didn’t think that she was serious, but apparently she had been.

The message provided a brief explanation, which indicated that this girl didn’t really care for the whole on-line dating scene, but that the demands of her career kept her from having a lot of free time for socializing.  It further expressed her interest in making a connection, which included a link to her profile.

He found himself reluctant to click on the link, as though it might be opening Pandora’s Box.  He loved the simplicity of his life, though he could not deny that he yearned for someone to share it with.  Even so, he couldn’t shake the sense that this wasn’t the way to go about it.  After several moments of hesitation, he finally steered his mouse to the file, and took the plunge.

She loved on-line dating apps.  It was a great way to avoid the most awkward elements of traditional dating.  No walking up to a stranger, asking for a dance, or trying to make some sort of meaningful conversation.  This system allowed her to do some research, and to plan a strategy.  Though people often exaggerated, or flat out lied on their profiles, she had developed a pretty intricate system for checking prospects out. 

When she came upon his profile, it seemed oddly understated.  It was almost as if it were put together as an afterthought.  It had the standard nonsense about loving animals, kids, the outdoors, long walks, holding hands, meaningful conversation…, and she very nearly clicked off it.  But as she scanned through the pictures, she noticed a few details that intrigued her. 

He was definitely a good looking guy, and about the same age, though the latter wasn’t necessarily a requirement for her.  He had a lot of horse pictures, which included some nice shots of a picturesque barn and pasture, along with a deluxe hauling rig (i.e. matching F350 pickup & fifth wheel horse trailer).  Given the area he was from, she guessed that this must be his place, and combined with his claim of being an Architect, she felt certain that he must have some serious money.

After years of dating guys from the city, she felt like finding someone from outside her circle might be a nice change of pace.  She liked that this guy didn’t seem to be going for the hard sell, though she worried that he might be some kind of Boy Scout.  She was able to cross reference his name to a LinkedIn account, and through that she was able to verify that he was both educated, and highly successful.  That was all she needed to know.  She copied and pasted her spiel from the last introduction e-mail she’d sent, and waited for a reply.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but his screen seemed to explode with colorful banners, pictures, and text.  It appeared to be a pretty intricate web design for a dating site.  It certainly gave him the sense of looking at a magazine spread. 

He discovered that “Linda” was a Regional Sales Manager for a high end department store chain, which was headquartered in the city.  It said that she loved animals, the outdoors, long walks, holding hands, meaningful conversations…, but he noticed that in all of her pictures she was formally dressed, in heels, with full makeup, up-do hair styles, and that she often had a drink in her hand.

Despite the wide array of information contained on her page, he found nothing that would indicate why this girl would have any interest in him.  That made him curious about what his sister had put in his profile.  After navigating through the webpage for a few minutes, he finally found his profile, and clicked on it. 

It was decidedly less spectacular than Linda’s; almost embarrassingly so.  He was glad that Candace hadn’t claimed anything that he would have to deny, but he wondered what this woman could possibly have seen in it.  Again, he hesitated, and again, he could hear his sister’s voice in his head.  Reluctantly, he began to compose his response.

She only scanned through the first paragraph of his response, which explained his sister’s involvement in signing him up for the website, and the confession that he didn’t really get into town much.  Rolling her eyes, she mouthed the words, “Boy Scout” under her breath.  She sensed he was about to respectfully decline, when he mentioned her expressed love of animals, and offered an afternoon of horseback riding at his ranch.  That was all she needed to confirm that he was as loaded as she’d guessed, and she quickly formulated her response.

Though he didn’t see her e-mail until the following morning, he was surprised to note how quickly she had responded.  Upon reading her reply, he was embarrassed to realize that he’d already made a significant social misstep, as she explained her reluctance for their initial meeting to be in such a private and remote setting. 

Though he didn’t really have a desire to make a trip into the city, he was now self-conscious about turning down her offer to meet at a more public place; afraid that it would appear as though he had indeed been trying to lure her into some sort of compromising situation.  It was probably his eagerness to demonstrate that this wasn’t the case that caused him to respond, “Pick whatever restaurant you’d like, and I’ll make a reservation”.

She smiled when she got his message, sensing that her plan to shame him into an expensive dinner had worked.  This was also a chance to see how well connected he was, as reservations for “Au Clair De Lune” weren’t easy to come by.  Being seen there, with a good looking guy that no one really knows could only do good things for her social stature.  She typed in the place and the desired date, then punched the send button.

Her response confirmed to him that the pictures he’d seen on her profile page were probably a better representation of who she was than the words she’d used to describe herself.  It wasn’t really the expense of the place she’d picked that bothered him, but he had a special dislike for French Nouvelle cuisine.  He tried to restrain his skepticism, but it was hard not to feel as though he’d walked into a setup.  The one upside to her choice of restaurants was that he had done some work for the owners of the high-rise it was in, so getting a reservation wasn’t too difficult.  After messaging her with the information, he added it to his calendar, and tried not to dread it.

His apparent ease at getting a reservation for a Friday night only served to raise the stakes for her.  “Good looking, loaded, and connected,” she thought to herself.  Smiling, she began to formulate her strategy for the evening, and to think of the social media posts she might do. 

In the days leading up to the date, she coyly spoke of the “new man in her life” to friends and co-workers, giving no hint that they’d never actually met.  On the day of their dinner, she picked an outfit that she felt sure would attract his eye without coming off as overly provocative.  She was still convinced that he was a Boy Scout, but she wore some lacey undergarments, just in case she might be wrong.

He left for the city right after getting the horses fed that morning, figuring that he could do some work from his office there, so as to avoid driving in during the evening traffic.  Since both of their offices were fairly close to the restaurant, he briefly considered suggesting that they walk over, but he felt sure that she wouldn’t be in walking type shoes, and decided against it.  As he pulled into the circular drive in front of her office building, he smiled as he noticed her large spikey heels.  Rolling up to the curb, he quickly put the car in park, and jumped out to greet her.

Walking up to her, he said, “You must be Linda”.

Somewhat startled, she answered, “Oh, and you must be Paul”.

Reaching toward her, he extended his hand awkwardly.  She hesitated for a brief instant, and then grasped his hand and shook it.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you” he said.

She still looked a little bewildered, so he asked, “This is where you wanted me to pick you up, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” she stammered.  “I guess I was looking for a pickup truck, and not a Lexus”.

Opening the car door for her, he responded, “Yeah, it’s a little tough trying to maneuver a truck around these streets, so I figured this might work a little better for us.” 

As she slid into the passenger seat, she smiled to herself.  He was sharper and more attractive than she’d imagined, and the Lexus was a nice surprise.  She half expected him to show up in cowboy boots and a bolo tie, so she was relieved to see that he knew how to dress, and carry himself.  Of course, the clumsy handshake was pure Mr. Rogers.  Even so, she felt confident that he was going to be a fine accessory for her evening.

As he made his way around the car, he tried to shake off the awkwardness of the moment.  He’d never been on a blind date, and he was at a loss as to what to talk about.  As they pulled onto the street he made a comment about the downtown traffic, and she shared that she never drove in the city, opting for Uber’s or cabs instead.  She chuckled at his confession that he’d never been in either one of those before.  Though the restaurant was only a few blocks away, it took several minutes, and a lot of forced small talk, to get there.  Thankfully, the restaurant had a Valet, so he didn’t have to find parking.

As the Valet opened her door, she slowly stepped onto the busy sidewalk. Paul quickly came alongside her, and she hooked her arm to his.  Absorbing the envious stares of onlookers, she made her way into the cordoned entryway. She felt like a celebrity as she passed through the velvet ropes toward the doorway, and imperceptibly looked for familiar faces amongst the crowd.  Stopping, she handed the doorman her phone and asked him to take a picture of them.  Though it seemed a bit uncouth, she knew that she’d need the shot for a social media post.  Once inside, the noise of the street gave way to the low murmur of a busy eatery, with a cool jazz soundtrack.  It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the lowlight.

Paul was surprised by the way Linda had grabbed hold of him, and pulled him close to her.  When he saw their reflection in the door, they looked very much like a couple, which seemed odd given their brief and bumbling introduction.  He didn’t sense any warmth or affection in it, so he wondered if she wasn’t just nervous.  He briefly considered that she may have been doing it for effect, but he quickly dismissed that idea as overly cynical.

As they waited to be seated, she quickly scanned the room, trying to take in every bit of the ambiance, and hoping to see someone she knew.  As they made their way to the table, she recognized an older gentleman, who was an executive at the corporate office, and she stopped to greet him.  He introduced his wife, and she introduced Paul, before they continued on.

Paul was caught off guard by her unannounced stop, and he sensed that this man’s wife wasn’t exactly thrilled to have their meal interrupted.  He also felt as though Linda was speaking rather loudly, as people from other tables seemed to be looking at them.  Again, he had to push away the suspicion that this was intentional, and excused it as nerves.

As they reached the table, he pulled out the chair for Linda, and she smiled brightly as she slipped into it.  She seemed to be sending decidedly mixed signals, at times giddy, and at other moments, aloof.  When the Maître D asked if they would be needing wine service, she looked to Paul wistfully.  Though he wasn’t much of a drinker, and he knew that he had a long drive home at the end of the evening, he didn’t want to make their shaky start any less stable, so he nodded that they would, and offered that she pick the wine.  This seemed to please her.

When the Wine Steward listed the various vintages that were available, it was clear to Paul that Linda had no idea what to order, but before he could step in, she asked the Steward what he recommended.  Given that the server didn’t inquire about what they planned to eat, Paul was confident that this bottle of wine would be pricey.  Again, he chose to say nothing, and to allow things to play out.

Linda watched Paul carefully as she selected the wine, looking for any hint that he might be concerned about the cost.  His lack of visible reaction only spurred her sense that she’d hit the jackpot.  Though she wasn’t particularly hungry, she ordered a full five courses to enhance the experience of being “wined and dined”.  Paul tried to make small talk, but she was more interested in soaking in the ambiance. 

A few times he seemed to hit on a topic of interest to her, but she inevitably turned the conversation back to the restaurant, and how great everything was.  She continued to scan the room for familiar faces, and at one point, she took a picture of Paul, for a “Check-In” post on social media.  She was delighted to hear her phone buzzing with reactions throughout the rest of the meal.

As the meal went on, Paul became fatigued by his attempts to sustain a conversation.  He found that Linda was willing to briefly talk about work, sports, and entertainment, but that she had little interest in discussing anything personal, or that had any sort of depth or meaning.  The only question she asked of him was about his work, and as he tried to answer, she looked both distracted and disinterested. 

She did appear to be enjoying both the food, and the wine, even though she only seemed to sample each course instead of actually eating it.  With most of her dinner still on the plate, she ordered dessert, coffee, and aperitifs.  Paul welcomed the coffee, while passing on the liqueur.  Though he found himself ready for this meal to end, she seemed to be doing her best to keep it going.

Linda thoroughly enjoyed the food, as she took pictures of everything before trying it.  She wanted to make sure to have plenty of photos for her posts, documenting her evening at “Au Clair De Lune”.  As the meal wound down, she was tempted to order a second dessert, but she had to admit that she was completely stuffed, and didn’t want to seem greedy. 

Because they were having such a good time, she wondered if Paul might be willing to take her to a club, or bar to meet some friends.  It also occurred to her that he might want to go back to her place.  Though he didn’t seem the type, she wondered if he wouldn’t expect a little quid pro quo for all money he’d just laid out for dinner.  Though she didn’t find herself exceptionally motivated in that direction, she did believe that it was probably fair, and was willing to entertain the idea.

Paul nearly choked on his coffee when Linda chirped, “So what’s next?”  He was more than ready to call it a night, and take her back to her car.  Though he tried to be careful of her feelings, he was absolutely resolved that he wasn’t going to extend the evening.  Politely, he mentioned the early start to his day, and his long drive home, before indicating that he probably just needed to get her back to her car.

He was relieved that she didn’t seem offended by that, but was a little disappointed when she reminded him that she didn’t drive into the city, and that she would need a ride home.  Going 40 minutes in the wrong direction wasn’t good news, but knowing that this date could be over within the hour provided a needed boost of energy.

Linda tried to sneak a peek when the waiter laid the bill on the table, but Paul picked it up before she could get a good look.  Again, she noticed that he didn’t seem to flinch at the amount, which made her smile.  She excused herself to go to the ladies room, in order to “freshen up” just in case things escalated at her place, and his noticeably more upbeat countenance as they left the restaurant made her feel as though that was a real possibility.  Though she wasn’t wildly attracted to him, she liked the idea that he might feel that way about her.

The conversation seemed to flow more easily as Paul took Linda home.  This was probably because he gave up on learning more about her, and simply talked about traffic, the rapid transit system, the length of her commute, the neighborhood she lived in…  Without the distraction of the restaurant, Linda seemed more engaged, and strangely warmer than she’d been.  The noticeable change in her countenance caused Paul to suspect that she was beginning to feel all the wine and liqueur she’d had with dinner.  As they pulled onto her street, he wrestled with the best way to handle his, “Good-night”.

As the ride home went on, Linda found herself even more receptive to the idea that Paul might come in, and stay for a while.  Though it had been a long day, the idea of being cuddled was appealing, and she was getting the vibe that he wanted her.  He clearly wasn’t her type, but with him not being local, it might turn into a nice little side benefit when he was in town.  When they pulled into the driveway, Paul jumped out to open her door, and she wrestled with the best way to let him know that he was “invited”.

When Paul pulled the door open, he expected that Linda would simply get out, but instead, she extended her hand to him.  When he grasped it, she pulled herself to her feet, and then toward him. 

With her face uncomfortably close to his, she looked into his eyes and seductively said, “You’re welcome to come in if you’d like.” 

Not wanting to offend her by pulling away, he lowered his eyes, and softly replied, “I think it’s best that I head home.” 

Seemingly undeterred, she said, “I guess that means we’ll have to say goodnight out here.”  With that, she pressed in to him, and kissed him passionately on the lips.

Paul was not at all expecting that, as he stared at her in stunned silence.

Linda could see that she’d rocked his world, and she could feel his temptation to give into her.  She smiled at him knowingly, and said, “We’ll have to do this again sometime.” 

Slowly, she pulled away from him, and made her way towards the front door.  She could feel his longing eyes on her, and wondered if he might change his mind.  But when she got to the stoop, she turned to see him backing out of the driveway, and she gave him a little wave. 

Entering the house, she decided that she wasn’t really disappointed.  She didn’t really want him, she just wanted to feel desired, and she’d gotten that from him.  This gave her time to draw a bath, relax, and to work on her social media posts. 

As she did those things it occurred to her that this had been the perfect date.  A good looking, well-connected, well-financed man; a Lexus; a table at an exclusive restaurant; wined, dined, and delivered to her front door.  No messy complications; no drama, nobody’s clothes to pick up in the morning…  What more could a girl ask for.

Paul found himself shaking his head as he drove down the interstate, wondering how he’d let himself fall into such a convoluted mess.  If this is what dating had become, he was amazed that anyone ever really got together.  Linda’s actions completely baffled him, as she was distracted and disinterested all night, only to passionately kiss him and invite him to consummate their relationship at the end.  When he got home, he immediately went to his computer, and deleted the profile his sister had made for him.

When I first got this story, I understood that it was meant to demonstrate a relational dynamic, where two peoples contrasting motivations and perceptions caused them to interpret the same situation differently.  Though that seemed very practical, and non-spiritual, I sensed that it was somehow associated with our relationship to God. 

In writing in out, switching back and forth between the perspectives was necessary to demonstrate the disparity in these two characters perceptions.  By the end, one had concluded that it was a smashing success, while the other felt as though it had been a complete disaster.

As I finished the story, I sensed that on some level it was representative of the Lord’s relationship with His Bride.  While He seeks a deeply personal, and committed relationship, He often encounters “followers” who are distracted, disinterested, and simply pursuing comfort, affirmation, and blessing.  That reduces Him to being a means to an end, instead of the end that is being pursued.  While I do believe that is addressed within this tale, I feel like the Lord eventually provided an even more specific context.

In the midst of praying about this writing, and what to do with it, I felt as though the Lord said that it speaks of the modern worship movement, and why it isn’t having more of an impact.  Certainly, if someone had told me years ago that arenas across America would be filled with “worshippers”, that worship groups would be doing international tours like rock stars, and that worship music would permeate the airwaves of every major radio market in the country, I would have thought that our culture, or at least “the church” would have been significantly impacted in some tangible way.  Yet, it’s hard to claim that it has been.

Though I do not sense that this is an indictment of the entire movement, I do believe that He is saying that many of those attracted to worship gatherings are like Linda in the story.  They are not really interested in a long-term, deep, meaningful, committed relationship; opting instead for something to make them feel special in the moment. 

Indeed, we generally gauge the value of a worship experience by the degree to which we are moved (emotionally, and spiritually) by it.  While in truth, it is only the object of the worship who can really judge whether or not the worship was “good”. 

There is little doubt that the Lord means for His people to be profoundly touched within moments of worship, but if our motivation to come is rooted in how it makes us feel, He can become incidental in the process (i.e. a tool to get what we really want).  In such cases, it becomes difficult to characterize the activity as worship; or at least not worship of Him.

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The Voice in the Closet

The Voice in the Closet is a collection of stories, poems, essays, lists, prayers, and thoughts that were inspired during times of prayer.  Taken together, they are effectually a prayer journal from almost two decades of walking with the Lord.  Volume 1 became available on Amazon today.  Volume 2 should be available in the coming weeks.

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Back in 2008 I published my first book, which was a little collection of stories I got during times of prayer. Unfortunately, there were some technical difficulties (e.g. font too small, margins too small), and the publisher set too high a price for it. Because of that, I’ve not encouraged people to look for it. For years I’ve been meaning to go back and fix it, and in recent weeks, I finally did. This Revised edition has a few more stories in it, and is hopefully more readable. The prices are better as well ($5.00 paperback, $3.00 Kindle).

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A Wake Up Call

I got this word many years ago, well before my wife started this blog for me. Like so many other things I wrote in that time, it was destined to live in my notebook, except that my beloved made it her mission to share my writings. Apparently, she posted it on Facebook, as it popped up in Memories. Good thing she did, because I couldn’t find another copy of it anywhere. As I re-read it, I remember how vividly I received it. I believe it resonates just as strongly today.
*
I awoke to the voice of the Lord saying, “Son, wake up; I’ve got some people for you to see.” I arose quickly and dressed. Skipping my morning routine, I made my way downstairs to the lobby of my apartment building and out onto the sidewalk. The sun seemed to be very bright and as I looked across the street to the park, I heard the Lord say, “Over there.”
*
The park was surprisingly busy for early on a Saturday morning and I walked slowly, as I anticipated further direction from the Lord. Just ahead I saw a girl or maybe she was a woman. She had one of those faces that could belong to someone in their late teens or in their early forties; though I would have guessed that she was in her twenties. She had kind of a “goth” look to her; jet black hair, lots of mascara, multiple piercings on her ears, nose & lip… She was barefoot, with gray sweatpants, a black tank top and she appeared to be doing some sort of yoga or meditation. As I started to pass the bench she was on, the Lord said, “Ask her” and somehow I understood that He meant for me to ask her what she was doing. Though I was uncomfortable about approaching her, I sat down and struck up a conversation. She said that she was “centering” herself, which she explained was her way of coming to a place of inner peace. She was surprisingly open about the fact that she’d had a late night of debauchery and that this was her way of spiritual cleansing. Even more surprising than her candor, was the fact that she did seem genuinely peaceful. She went on to explain that she was a recovering drug addict and that her “spirit guides” had taken her to past lives to show her that she was a strong person and that she didn’t need to be at the mercy of this addiction anymore. She proudly told me that she’d been drug free for the last eight months and that she was hoping to enroll in college classes in the fall. As the conversation began to wane, I guessed that the Lord must be opening a door for me and so I asked her if she knew anything about Jesus. She laughed and rolled her eyes, telling me that she’d been raised in church and that she’d even been a leader in her church youth group. I was stunned and without thinking I asked her what had happened; to which she looked me in the eye and knowingly said, “Absolutely nothing!” At that moment I realized that our conversation was over. As I walked on, I wondered if there was something that I was supposed to have told that girl, but something inside of me knew that the Lord had been speaking to me through her.
*
After a few more minutes of wandering, I saw a man that used to go to my church and again I felt the Lord’s prompting to go speak to him. As we spoke I found out that he’d just finished an eighteen month tour of duty in Iraq, where he’d been working alongside and training members of the Iraqi army. As I commented on how difficult it must have been to be an American living amongst the Iraqi people and even more so, a Christian living amongst Muslims, his expression grew troubled. He said, “You’d think so wouldn’t you; but honestly I felt more acceptance and brotherhood amongst those people than I ever have with the people that I’ve called brother and sister here.” He went on to tell me that his experience in Iraq has made it difficult for him to attend church since returning, because those relationships seem so phony and superficial. I tried to say some wise sounding words to encourage him to stay in church, but they sounded hollow and empty to my own ears; and undoubtedly meant nothing to him. As we parted ways, I once again had the uneasy sense that this conversation had been more for my benefit than for his; and I began to pray that the Lord would help me to understand what He was trying to show me.
*
Feeling suddenly tired, I decided to sit down on a bench for awhile; and after a few minutes my attention was drawn to a group of women who were gathered at a nearby picnic table. Not wanting to stare, I could only see them out of the corner of my eye, but they seemed to be having a great time together, as they talked and laughed loudly. After stealing glances for a few minutes I began to sense that there was something unusual about the way they interacted with each other. As they gathered their things and began to walk toward me, I was able to get a better look and from their appearance and body language I guessed that they were probably a group of lesbians. As they got closer, I recognized that one of the women was my cousin Peggy, who I hadn’t seen in a few years. She had become somewhat of an outcast in the family since deciding to live the homosexual lifestyle, though she and I had always gotten along well as kids. I was genuinely happy to see her, but I was also apprehensive about approaching her amongst this group of women. Within my moment of hesitation, she recognized me and immediately shouted out my name. She broke away from her group, moving quickly to me and throwing her arms around me. She spent the next several minutes catching me up on the events of the last few years and introducing me to her friends. I was struck by how genuinely happy she seemed and at the wonderful closeness she seemed to share with her companions. The few times I’d seen her as an adult (mostly at family gatherings), she’d seemed miserable and depressed; and when I mentioned how well she seemed to be doing, she replied, “I’ve finally found a place where it’s alright to be who I am.” Somehow those words were piercing to me, though I managed to suppress that emotion while we exchanged cell phone numbers and a warm farewell. But as this boisterous group walked away, an overwhelming sense of grief washed over me. I searched for what it was about our family that had failed to make Peggy feel loved and accepted; and wondered at how she’d so easily found that in the streets.
*
As I began to head back to my apartment, I felt queasy at the understanding that God had somehow orchestrated these three encounters. What was He trying to tell me through the lives of these people; all of whom had heard about Him and yet were finding their peace, hope, fellowship, love and community somewhere else? My eyes were fixed on the sidewalk and my mind was wrestling to understand, when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. When I stopped to get a closer look, it appeared to be a twenty dollar bill and instinctively I looked around to see if there was any obvious owner. Since there wasn’t, I stepped over to the curb and eagerly picked it up. Even before I got a chance to unfold the bill to look at it, I could tell that it didn’t feel right in my hand and as I held it up, I could see that it was one of those gospel tracts disguised as money in the hopes of tricking people into picking it up. My queasiness began to rise into nausea, as I heard the Lord say,
*
“Unless my people begin to deal in the currency of heaven, the things they do in My Name will only make the counterfeit seem more real.”

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Jury Duty

When Paul walked through the apartment door, he saw his younger brother Matt reach over from the couch, grab the remote, and quickly turn off the television.

 

Acting as though he didn’t see this, Paul said, “Hey little brother, how goes it?”

 

Matt abruptly sat up, and tried to act nonchalant, replying, “I’m good.”

 

But as Paul crossed the room, he swooped down and grabbed the TV remote with a grin.  “So what are we watching?” he said playfully, as he turned the television back on.

 

Matt jumped to his feet, and tried to wrestle the remote from him, but it was too late.  To Paul’s utter amazement, what came on the screen was a television preacher, talking about hell.

 

Turning to Matt, he said, “What is this?”

 

“It’s nothing,” Matt replied defensively, as he pulled the remote from Paul’s hand, and turned the TV back off.

 

“What do you mean, ‘it’s nothing’.  If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to hide whatever it is that you’re doing here,” Paul said.

 

With an intensity that Paul didn’t often see from his younger brother, Matt looked him in the eye and sternly said, “It’s nothing that you need to worry about,” before disappearing into his bedroom and closing the door.

 

Paul’s curiosity made him want to go after Matt, and push him for an answer, but he reminded himself that they were both adults now; and that when they’d agreed to share an apartment, they’d also promised to stay out of each other’s business.  He knew Matt well enough to know that he wasn’t going to talk until he was ready, so Paul decided to wait him out.  As he thought about it, he realized that Matt would eventually have to come out to eat, and so he decided to help that process along.

 

After throwing a bag of frozen fries in the oven, Paul fried up some bacon and burgers, and made himself a plate.  He knew the smell of the bacon had to be working on Matt, as he knocked on his bedroom door and said, “There’s burgers and fries if you’re hungry.”

 

Though Matt didn’t come out right away, Paul knew it wouldn’t be long, as he sat on the couch, and turned on ESPN.  Sure enough, a few minutes later Matt came out, made a bacon double-cheeseburger, and sat down in the living room.  They didn’t talk much at first, other than to react to whatever the sportscasters were saying, but after he finished his food, Paul decided to try again.

 

“So what’s going on?” he said gently.

 

Matt let out a sigh of frustration, and started to get up.  “What difference does it make?” he said.  “Why is this such a big deal to you?”

 

“Come on Matt, don’t get mad.  I’m not trying to bust on you.  I’m just asking what’s got you so upset.” Paul said, in a tone that seemed sincere.

 

Matt grabbed Paul’s empty plate and carried the dishes into the kitchen.  When he came back out, Paul expected him to head to his bedroom, but instead he came back in and sat down heavily in the chair.  Letting out another audible sigh, he began to share the story.

 

“You know that I had jury duty today,” he said.

 

“Oh yeah, you’d said that was coming up,” Paul replied.

 

“Well, I got there and they have you fill out this ridiculously long questionnaire with all sorts of things, like you’re opinion on the death penalty, and have you ever been convicted by a jury…  And one of the questions was about ‘Religious Affiliation’.  So you could say Muslim, or Hindu, or Christian, or New Age…  And they also had blocks for, ‘Atheist’ or ‘No Religious Affiliation’.  And I know this is going to sound crazy, but I didn’t know what to put down.”

 

With a look of confusion, Paul said, “What do you mean you didn’t know what to put down?”

 

“I mean, what am I?” Matt replied.  “Mom and Dad raised us in church, so I guess I could say that I am a Christian.  But I haven’t been to church in years, so maybe I should just say, ‘No Religious Affiliation’.  But if I’m honest, I haven’t really thought about God in years, so at some point would you just be considered an ‘Atheist’?”

 

Shaking his head, Paul said, “No, an Atheist doesn’t believe that there is a God.”  And then, after a brief pause, he added, “You do still believe that there is a God right?”

 

“I guess,” Matt replied.  “I mean I’ve always believed that because that’s what we were taught.  I’ve never really questioned it.”

 

“Do you still believe the whole Jesus story?” Paul asked.

 

“I guess,” Matt repeated.

 

“Well it sounds like you’re a Christian” Paul declared confidently.

 

With a look of doubt, Matt replied, “I don’t know.  I wanted to check that box, but it seemed kind of dishonest.  You know, like I was trying to fool someone.  I thought that the ‘No Religious Affiliation’ box was probably more accurate, so I checked it.”

 

“OK,” Paul said.  “So what’s the problem?”

 

“I don’t know,” Matt stammered.  “It made me feel kind of guilty that I couldn’t say that I was a Christian.  I thought of how disappointed Mom and Dad would be if they saw that.  I thought about the time I got baptized at church camp, and I remembered being pretty sincere about all of that back then.”

 

“Listen little brother, you’re way over thinking this.  I’m sure that the courts don’t really care that you don’t go to church, and no one else is ever going to see that questionnaire.  If I remember my Vacation Bible School trivia correctly, it says something like everyone who believes will be saved.  So if you believe, you should be good.  You’ve done your time in church.  You did the whole baptism thing.  You’re a good guy.  I think you’re really worrying for nothing.”

 

“I understand what you’re saying,” Matt said.  “But I had hard time shaking this uneasy feeling.  Then, I got picked to be on a jury, and we drew a civil case.  And that was interesting enough to take my mind off of it for a while.”

 

“Yeah, so how did that go?” Paul asked.

 

“It was pretty cool.  This old guy had died, and his will said that everything should be divided between his kids.  But this woman, who claimed to be his wife, was contesting the will.  She said that in the last year of his life, he had changed his mind, and that he really wanted everything to go to her.  She claimed that she had a piece of paper that he’d signed, which was essentially his new will.”

 

“So did you believe her?” Paul said.

 

“She had a pretty good lawyer, and from his opening remarks, he made it seem like they had proof of everything.  The way he told the story sounded so reasonable that I felt like I was probably going to vote in her favor.  The lawyer for this guy’s kids just said that the woman didn’t have any proof to back up her claims, and that the kids were the rightful heirs.  I guess that was all he really could say, but I liked the first guy better.”

 

After taking a drink, Matt continued, “But as the day wore on, I really had to wonder.  She said that they’d been living together for almost two years, but the kid’s had never met her, or spoken to her.  She tried to say that it was because they lived in other states, and that the man kept it from them so that they wouldn’t feel like he was betraying the memory of their deceased mother.  I guess I could kind of see that, but if they were really married, you’d have thought that he’d have told them at some point.”

 

“Wouldn’t the state have a record of them getting married?” Paul interrupted.

 

“Yeah, but she claimed that they got married when they were on vacation in Mexico, and that their luggage, which had the marriage papers, got lost on the trip back,” Matt replied.

 

“That sounds pretty shaky,” Paul said.

 

“Yeah, but then her lawyer pointed out that this is a ‘Common Law Marriage” state, and that the law says that if you live together for more than a year, you are considered legally married; which kind of sounded like a slam dunk.  But then, the kid’s lawyer pointed out that there wasn’t any real proof that they’d ever lived together.  In fact, he had proof that she’d had her own permanent address for that whole period.  She claimed that she’d been trying to sell her old place, and that she just wasn’t having any luck, but then the kid’s lawyer showed phone and utility bills that made it seem like someone was living there.  And this new will she claimed to have didn’t look right either.  The signature didn’t look like his handwriting, and she tried to say that it was because he was really sick and couldn’t hold the pen steady when he signed it.”

 

“This all sounds pretty crazy,” Paul commented.  “How did you decide who was right?”

 

“Well, for me it was the testimony of both the woman claiming to be the wife, and the man’s oldest daughter, that made the difference.”

 

“What did they say?” Paul asked.

 

“It’s not exactly what they said,” Matt replied.  “It was more like the way they acted.  The woman seemed like she was after this guy’s money, and like she was willing to say anything to get it.  Nothing that she said gave me the feeling that she really knew or cared about this guy.  His daughter was just the opposite.  She just seemed to want to do whatever her father would have wanted.  She didn’t seem to care about getting his stuff, and she actually seemed more hurt that he might have had a life that he’d kept secret from them.  When we got together to deliberate, it didn’t take us any time to decide.  This woman didn’t have any real proof to back up her claims to be his heir, and none of us believed her story.  So we ruled in favor of the kids.”

 

“From what you’ve told me, it sounds like you guys got it right,” Paul said.  “So what does all of that have to do with you watching TV preachers?”

 

Matt’s face turned serious, as he said, “As I was driving home, I had this crazy thought pop into my head.”

 

“What was it?” Paul asked.

 

“I was thinking about my difficulty in answering that questionnaire, and about the rest of the day’s events, when a little voice inside my head said, ‘I wonder how your trial will go if you show up in heaven claiming to be an heir?’”

 

Paul’s face appeared to twist into a painful expression, as he quietly exclaimed, “Ouch!”

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The Follower

The music seemed especially loud at this morning’s service and the congregation was really into it, but I was way too tired for all of that. The ballgame had gone into extra innings last night, and so I didn’t get to bed until the wee small hours of the morning. My wife Karen had warned me that I’d be “tired at church”, when she headed off to bed around 10:00 p.m. But, as usual, I pretended not to hear her. She, of course, was one of the first people up dancing and clapping to the worship. Periodically, she’d turn and shoot me a look of disapproval for sitting in my chair. She acted as if I was embarrassing her. But I figured that I wasn’t the only one sitting, and that she just needed to get over it. At the church I grew up in the service would have been over in an hour, you could have set your watch by it. If the service ran over by even three minutes you could hear everyone grumbling in the parking lot. But at this church we did the worship thing for at least an hour, and then the pastor would get up and preach for another hour, so there was no relief in sight. Suddenly, the music shifted from the upbeat praise songs to the slower worship type songs. In the midst of that the pastor encouraged people to gather around the altar and to pray. Though I wasn’t particularly moved by all of this, I saw it as an opening to catch a little rest. While I wasn’t one to lay prostrate on the floor while praying, I’d seen other people do it lots of times. Sometimes they’d be there for the whole service. I always figured that they must be sleeping, and so I thought that this might be a great way to get Karen off my back, to keep the pastor happy, and maybe to even catch a little nap. I got down on the floor and buried my head in my hands, so that no one could see whether I was awake or asleep. After a few minutes I found myself drifting into that half-awake, half-asleep, dream state; as the sound of the music began to fade in my ears.

After what seemed to be a very short time something within me shuddered violently, effectively shaking me awake. But as I opened my eyes I realized that I was no longer lying on the floor in the church; instead I was sitting on a hard wooden chair, in what appeared to be a large room. As the fog in my head continued to lift I recognized that this room was a courtroom, and that I was seated at the defendants table. I was pretty sure that this must be a dream, but I was kind of curious about what might happen next, so I didn’t try to snap out of it. Though the sounds in the room were muffled in my ears, I sensed that the prosecuting attorney was making his opening statements to the jury. His back was to me, but I could see that he was dressed in a long robe and that he was wearing sandals. When he finally turned I realized that it was Jesus. I could see both sadness and compassion in His eyes as He made His way back to the table. I felt a knot forming in my gut as my mind desperately tried to conjure a scenario in which this arrangement might be a good thing. At that moment, my lawyer rose to his feet, grabbed a large book off the table, and moved toward the jury box. My hearing suddenly seemed to grow more acute as I could hear his expensive looking shoes click across the floor. In stark contrast to Jesus’ appearance, my lawyer looked like something off the pages of GQ magazine, and he moved in a very definitive manner. Though I hadn’t really had the chance to look him in the face, I sensed that he must be a relatively young man. As he reached the jury box he opened the large book and began to speak.

“Ladies and Gentleman of the jury, I think that you will find that reaching a verdict in this case will be fairly simple if you keep the definition of one term in mind, and that term is ‘follower’. Here in the Webster’s, that term is defined as one who follows the teachings or opinions of another; one that imitates another; one that chases another; or even as a part of a machine that is moved by another part of the machine. As we work our way through this proceeding I ask that you keep this definition clear in your minds. Thank you.”

Just as quickly as he had risen from the table, he thumped the dictionary closed, and spun to return. When our eyes met, I sensed something like contempt in his face, and as he moved closer I couldn’t shake the idea that this was Lucifer himself. A sick feeling washed over me as he sat down without acknowledging me. I tipped my chair back slightly, and slipped my foot beneath it, in hopes that I could exert enough pressure to cause me to wake up from this dream. Despite crushing my foot to the point that tears were streaming down my face the dream continued.

My thoughts began to swirl in the confusion of the moment. What is it that I’m accused of? Why would Jesus be a Prosecutor? Is my lawyer really Lucifer? Why can’t I wake up from this dream? I became even more confused when I looked to the bench and realized that the judges’ chair was empty. Just then, Jesus stood to his feet, and moved toward the Bailiff with a piece of paper in His hand. He addressed the empty chair as if someone were sitting in it, saying “Your honor the state wishes to enter this document as ‘State Exhibit A’.” He handed the paper to the Bailiff, and turned back to the jury, saying, “It is the signed confession of the defendant, Mr. Richard Davis. And upon this confession the State rests its case.” Jesus quietly made His way back to His chair as the courtroom was suddenly abuzz with reaction to the evidence.

My heart sank at the realization that whatever my particular crime might be I had already confessed my guilt. It suddenly made sense to me that Jesus would be the prosecutor, as He is always on the side of truth. I don’t know what argument my lawyer thought that he might bring to counter a signed confession, but he wasted no time in getting to work. He quickly stood to his feet and began to speak. “Your honor, if it pleases the court, the defense would like to call the defendant, Richard F. Davis to the stand.” He shot an impatient glance toward me as I stumbled to my feet, and every eye in the courtroom seemed to be on me as I shuffled forward. My foot ached from my attempts to expel myself from this dream, and I tried not to limp as I made my way to the Bailiff. After being sworn in, I climbed into the witness chair, took a deep breath, and wondered what was about to happen.

“For the record, please state your full name.”

“Richard Franklin Davis.”

“So, Mr. Davis, are you married?”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“And how long have you been married?”

“It will be sixteen years in June.”

“Well, congratulations, that’s very impressive in this day and age. And how did you meet your wife?”

“We were high school sweethearts.”

“Really and how long did you know her before you decided that she was ‘the one’?”

“Well, I guess I knew the first time I saw her. I remember telling my best friend that I would marry her before I ever had the chance to actually speak to her.”

“Ah, love at first sight. She must have been very attractive.”
“Definitely, she was a cheerleader.”

“How nice, and do you have any children?”

“Yes sir, we have two children.”

“And how old are they?”

“Well our daughter, Tiffany, is fourteen, and our son, Bruce, is twelve.”

“And how did you decide on the names Tiffany and Bruce?”

‘Well, I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but Tiffany was my wife’s idea. ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ is her favorite movie. Since she got to pick the girl name, I got to name the boy, and Bruce Springsteen has always been my favorite singer.”

“Ah yes, ‘The Boss’.”

“Absolutely!”

I was a little embarrassed by the enthusiasm that came across in my response, but I guess I was feeling somewhat relieved by the innocuous questions he was asking. I didn’t really understand what the point of all of this was, but I guessed that he was just trying to let the jury know that I was a regular guy. It, once again, made me wonder what I had been accused of, and I expected that the questions were about to get more difficult, but they didn’t.

“And so what do you do for a living Mr. Davis?”

“I’m a Tax Accountant.”

“That doesn’t sound like very exciting work, is that what you’d hoped you’d be doing at this point in your life?”

“No sir, truthfully, I always wanted to either play in a rock band or to play professional baseball.”

“Why didn’t you go into one of those fields instead?”

“I wasn’t a very good baseball player, and I wasn’t much into practicing my guitar, so neither of those things materialized.”

“So how did you settle on accounting?”

“I was always good at math, and they said that accountants made good money, so I decided that was the way to go.”

“And were ‘they’ right?”

“Right about what?”

“Right about accountants making good money?”

“Oh, yes, I make a good living.”

“And where is it that you live?”

“We live in the Cherry Ridge subdivision, out towards the mall.”

“That’s a very expensive neighborhood, even for someone who makes a ‘good living’.”

“Yes, well, my wife works also.”

“Really, that must be hard on your children.”

“I really don’t think that they mind. They understand that this is what it takes to afford the kind of life that we want for them. I actually think that it’s helped them to grow up a little faster.”

“And what exactly are your aspirations for your children Mr. Davis?”

“Well, I’ve encouraged them to do well in school, so that they can get into a good college, and eventually get a good job.”

“Anything else?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Jesus sitting at the table and I searched for something to say that might please Him.

“Well, I guess I’ve tried to teach them to be good people too.”

I sensed that my attorney had been trying to get somewhere with the idea that we lived in a nice neighborhood, and that my wife chose to work, but I couldn’t figure out where. I kept watching him, trying to figure out whether he was really defending me, or whether he was trying to set me up. Just as quickly as he’d shifted the questioning in that direction, he moved away from it.

“Mr Davis, who are the three people that you would say have had the greatest influence in your life?”

“I guess that would be my wife Karen, my mother, and probably my high school baseball coach, Mr. Simpson.”

“And what is it about these people that affected you so deeply?”

“Well, my mom was always there for me. My Dad had left when I was still a baby, so it was just the two of us. She was always a great mom, who took great care of me. My wife is really beautiful, and smart, and I’m just glad that she chose to spend her life with me. Mr. Simpson guided our baseball team to the regional finals in my senior year, and he’s been a kind of father figure to me ever since. We talk almost every week on the phone.”

“So would your answer change much if I asked you who your heroes were?”

“I guess I think of heroes as kind of larger than life characters, which for me would be, ‘The Boss, Mr. Bruce Springsteen’. He’s an amazing guy, and his music really speaks to me. For my eighteenth birthday my mother took me to the local tattoo guy, who etched ‘Born to Run” on my right arm.”

“Really, have you ever been to one of his shows?”

“Are you kidding, I’ve seen him at shows all over the country. Karen and I even planned our tenth wedding anniversary trip around seeing him in Atlantic City!”

Again I found myself somewhat embarrassed at my enthusiastic response. At first my lawyer seemed amused by it, but then he took another sharp turn.

“Do believe in the idea of God, or a ‘Higher Power’?”

“Yes sir, I was raised in church, and we are members of a church as well.”

Pointing towards Jesus, he asked, “Other than here in the courtroom, have you ever seen this man before?”

“I’ve seen pictures of Him.”

“You mean some artist’s rendering of His image.”

“Yes sir, I guess that would be accurate.”

“Have you ever had a conversation with Him?”

“I’ve prayed to Him.”

“That was not the question Mr. Davis! The question was whether you’ve ever ‘conversed’ with Him.”

“Not exactly in the way that you’re implying”

“Other than here in this courtroom, have you ever heard His voice?”

A sense of panic was beginning to rise up in me as I sensed that he was trying to make it seem as though I wasn’t even saved.

“I believe that God speaks through His Holy Word, the Bible!”

“Oh really, so can you tell the court when the last time was that God spoke to you ‘through His Holy Word’?”

I went completely blank at this question. I tried to conjure a picture of me studying the Bible or even praying, but I couldn’t. I sat there trying to find something to say, but nothing came. After a very uncomfortable period of silence, my lawyer again spoke.

“Mr. Davis, do you consider yourself to be a ‘saved’ person?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“When you say saved, what do you mean? Saved from what?”

“Saved from an eternity in hell”

“Do you fear hell Mr. Davis?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Your honor, the defense has no further questions, and rests upon the testimony of the defendant.”

The Bailiff let me know that I could step down from the stand, and I felt completely drained as I made my way back to the table. Though I still had no idea what I had been accused of, I somehow felt as though I’d just walked into an ambush. It wasn’t clear to me what the jury could derive from my testimony, but I was sure that I hadn’t represented myself well. My lawyer seemed strangely pleased with all of this, which only added to my sense of confusion. I once again pressed the leg of my chair onto my throbbing foot, in hopes of waking up before the closing statements were given to the jury, but it was to no avail. After Jesus waived His option to make a closing statement, my lawyer once again sprang to his feet, and swiftly moved toward the jury.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as I mentioned at the beginning of this proceeding, I believe that reaching a verdict in this case will be quite simple as long as you bear in mind what it means to be a ‘follower’. Once again, Webster’s defines this as ‘one who follows the teachings or opinions of another; one that imitates another; one that chases another or even as a part of a machine that is moved by another part of the machine.’ In light of the defendant’s testimony, I cannot find one shred of evidence that he meets any of those criteria. As he testified about the most significant elements of his life, we learned that he chose his life’s mate based solely on his physical attraction to her. By his own admission he hadn’t even spoken to her, and yet he knew that this was ‘the one for him’. Again, in his own words, he chose his life’s work based on the potential to make money, and it sounds as if he’s guiding his children to do the same. In light of the definition, it would seem that money, and a nice home in ‘Cherry Ridge’, are the part of the machine that drive him. And what can we say that he’s been chasing? From his testimony, I gather that he’s chased his hero across the country. He’s even tattooed his body, and named his only son in honor of this man. Had my client been accused of being a follower of that man instead of this one (as he pointed toward Jesus), I’d gladly hand him over to the Bailiff. But that is not the case.”

Tears began to stream down my face as I realized that the accusation raised by Jesus was that I was His follower, and I found it difficult to catch my breath as I understood that my confession was the only viable evidence that he could present. A wave of nausea roiled in me as my lawyer continued addressing the jury.

“The prosecution has submitted this signed confession, and while I don’t dispute that my client did sign this document, I submit that by his own admission it was under duress. He was simply afraid that if he didn’t he’d be sent to hell forever. In my esteemed colleague’s own words, His followers know His voice and you can tell who they are by the fruit of their lives. So even if you apply the prosecution’s own criteria, you must acquit my client on the charge of being a ‘Follower of Christ’.”

My head dropped into my hands as heavy sobs bubbled out of me. I wanted to deny what he was saying, but I knew that he was right. I had no rebuttal. I wept bitter tears, and shook with fear. And, in my head, I heard the voice of the Jury Foreman echoing, “We the jury, find the defendant ‘Not Guilty’ of the charge of being a ‘Follower of Jesus Christ’.” I suddenly felt as though I was falling into a bottomless pit, and that the air was moving by so fast that I couldn’t pull it into my lungs. In the deepest part of my soul I cried out, “God help me!” and instantly everything became still.

I remained completely motionless for what seemed like a very long time. I was afraid to move. Afraid that this wasn’t really a dream, and that I might somehow set this whole thing back in motion. Paralyzed by my fear, I felt as though I could remain there indefinitely. But out of the blue I felt something moving along my back, and I began to hear the faint sounds of a voice. My ears reached for the sound, and it seemed to grow more distinct. The voice seemed very familiar, and it was calling my name. Suddenly, I realized that it was Karen’s voice, and that it was her hand rubbing my back.

“Richard, are you OK? Service is over honey, it’s time to go.”

I cracked open my eyes, and saw that I was still lying face down on the floor of the sanctuary. I carefully pulled my arms up, and tried to push myself into a sitting position. I was dazed, covered in sweat, and my whole body ached. The service had apparently just ended as most of the congregation seemed to be milling about in conversation. Karen looked very concerned, and kept asking if I was alright. But all I could do was nod incoherently. I was just thankful that this whole thing had just been a bad dream, and that it was really over. Karen seemed to want to get me on my feet, but I wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do it by herself. Just then, a man named, Marcus Freeman, stepped over to help her. A lot of people claimed that he was some sort of prophet, but I wasn’t sure that I believed in all of that stuff. Nevertheless, he seemed like a nice enough guy, and I appreciated his help. As they helped me up I tried to stand on my own, but the pain in my one foot shot all the way up my leg, and my knee gave way as they guided me into a chair. Another wave of panic began to rise in me as I realized where that pain had come from, and I could feel my arms trembling against my sides. In that moment, Marcus crouched down beside me, and said, “The Lord told me to tell you that the chair won’t remain empty forever.” He went on to say, “I don’t really know what that means, but the Lord said that you would.” All I could do was nod in agreement.

“Then Jesus said to His disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me’. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” Matthew 16: 24-25

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