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Archive for the ‘Word Pictures’ Category

The Treasure Chest

Posted in Heart of "The Father", Word Pictures, tagged , on February 12, 2010| 1 Comment »

There was once a young sailor who had the opportunity to sail through uncharted waters, on a ship headed to a dark and unexplored land.  The men in his family had been sailors for generations and he’d grown up to stories of the great adventures that his father, and grandfather and great-grandfather had on such journeys.  Though he’d been sailing for some years himself, he’d never gone more than a few hundred miles up or down the coastline.  He yearned to experience the adventure of the unknown and despite the potential danger; he jumped at the chance to sign aboard.

 

Only his father seemed to fully understand his desire to do such a thing.  And as the day drew near for his departure, he noticed that his father was busily working on something.  It occurred to him to ask of it, but he was too distracted to remember the question.  As he was saying his goodbyes on the pier, he saw his father having a chest loaded onto the ship.  When he asked about it, his father simply said, it is a few things that you’ll need along the way.  The young man couldn’t imagine what he’d need that wasn’t already loaded in the sack slung over his shoulder, but he was too excited to ask any more about it.

 

The chest was loaded deep into the ship’s cargo hold, where it seemed destined to be forgotten.  In the first days of the journey, the excitement of the departure gave way to the monotony of the sea and as the days turned to weeks, the journey began to take its toll.  As the sun and the wind of the sea began to make his skin turn to leather, the young man remembered the chest and his father’s words of what was inside.  He made his way deep into the ships hold and found the chest; sure enough there was a jar of ointment for his skin.  Later while re-loading supplies in a tropical port, the ship became infested with biting flies and the young man found a roll of netting within the chest that protected him from them.  In the days when sickness and fever swept through the crew, he found various jars of herbs and teas to preserve him.  As a matter of fact every time a malady came his way, he seemed to find something within the chest to help him.  Each time this would happen, he would marvel at his fathers’ insight as to what he would encounter on his journey.

 

As the months turned to years, the young man always knew to go to the chest when he was in need, until one day he noticed that he was taking the last article from it.  A wave of sadness came over him, as he guessed that his father couldn’t have anticipated that this journey was going to last so long.  His heart was heavy as he climbed out of the ships hold, his sense of adventure was spent and he just wanted to be home.  As he reached the deck, he first heard the excited voices of the crew and then the ringing of the ships bell.  As he got to the ships railing he could see that they were finally home.

 

As the ship drew near to the pier he could see his father calmly waiting, as if he knew exactly when they’d be arriving, even though they hadn’t known themselves.  The son stared at his father in awe and his heart was filled with love and gratitude.  As he walked down the gangway, he felt like a little boy and as he embraced his father, his tears began to flow as he heard him say, “Welcome home Son, I’m so proud of you”.

 

As the Lord gave me this little parable, He said that you are that young sailor, and that the chest He’s packed for you is your heart.   He said that because He’s gone before you, He has anticipated everything that you will need on your journey and that you simply need to go and look for His provision within your heart.  He said that you need not ever question whether you’ll find what you need, because He was very careful when He packed.  He also mentioned that He knows the journey is longer than, and at times not nearly as adventurous as you’d hoped; but He wants you to know that there is purpose in every mile.  He says that it’s exciting to see you find new things within your heart that you didn’t know were there, but that His truest joy will be the day that you return forever.  He’s looking forward to that moment on the pier even more than you are.

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A Naturalized Citizen

Posted in Stories, Word Pictures, tagged on February 12, 2010| Leave a Comment »

As she stepped out of the hotel lobby and onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk, she could sense the electricity in the air.  The boulevards were jammed with people and cars, not unlike the streets that she’d grown up with in Calcutta (or Kolkata as it is known in India).  But to her the atmosphere was totally different.  Despite the affluent appearance of her hometown, she viewed it as a monument to a bygone era; an oasis of civility in a largely third world culture.

*

New York City seemed different to her; modern and progressive.  America was not some third world country; it was the nation of the great middle class, where average people expected the next generation to progress beyond the current one.

*

As she walked along the crowded avenue the possibilities seemed endless, as exotic smells filled her nostrils, unfamiliar sounds rang in her ears, and inviting scenes seemed to unfold at every turn.  She found it intoxicating, as she spent hours strolling through shops, galleries and plazas; simply taking in the ambience of the city.

*

Every once in a while, a wave of sadness would wash over her as she remembered that the Travel Visa, which allowed her to be in this country, would soon expire; and that she would have to return home.  This trip had been a graduation gift from her parents, and she was due to start Medical School in a few weeks.  But this is where she wanted to be, and the thought of going back was excruciating to her.  She quickly pushed these thoughts and feelings aside, as to not waste the precious time that remained.

*

As she passed through the doorway of the exclusive restaurant, she saw Michael waiting for her.  When he saw her, his face broke into a broad smile.  Failing to conceal his excitement, he quickly made his way to her.  He helped her with her coat and they were soon seated at a little table by the window, which overlooked Times Square.  She had met Michael a few days after arriving in New York, and he had persistently pursued spending time with her ever since.  He was a successful business man, in his mid-thirties, and he seemed very eager for them to cultivate a relationship.

*

While she had every reason to be attracted to Michael, his earnest manner made her somewhat uncomfortable.  She loved the places that he’d taken her, and enjoyed the attention that he lavished upon her, but she couldn’t seem to get herself excited about the relationship that he seemed to long for.  As they waited to order their food, Michael stared at her intently; totally enthralled by her dark eyes and almond colored skin.  Yet, she seemed oblivious, as she stared out the window, apparently mesmerized by the bustle of the cityscape.

*

After their food was ordered, Michael’s face grew serious.  He told her that he understood that her time in America would soon be over, and of how sad he was at the thought that they might never see each other again.  Though his grief seemed to rest more on the latter thought, hers rested firmly on the former.  His face brightened some as he explained that it didn’t need to be that way.  Reaching into his pocket, Michael produced a small felt covered box, pushing it across the table to her.  A wave of trepidation swept over her as she realized what was happening.

*

His face was glowing with love as he said, “You could stay here and be my Bride”?

*

Her head spun at the sound of his words.  She knew that her feelings for him were not nearly as strong as his were for her.  Truthfully, she didn’t really know him very well; though she had to admit to herself that her desire to know him better wasn’t that strong.  On the other hand, agreeing to this proposal would mean that she could remain in this place, which she’d come to view as a sort of paradise.  The thought of returning to the oppressive atmosphere of her homeland was overwhelming to her.  The thought of becoming a naturalized citizen in this country was like a dream come true.  This was her chance for the life that she yearned for; how could she even consider saying no.

*

As she opened the felt box, she saw the spectacular diamond ring that he’d picked out for her.  He pulled the ring from the holder and taking her hand, he gently slipped it onto her finger.  It fit perfectly and flashes of light erupted from it with every movement; she found herself captivated by it.

*

“Do you like it?” he asked.

*

“Oh yes!” she replied, without looking at him.

*

When she was finally able to pull her eyes from the ring, she looked into Michael’s face.  She could see that he was stricken in anticipation of her answer.

*

She finally whispered, “How could I say no?”

*

Michael made no attempt to conceal his delight, and people from other tables began to look at them.  She was embarrassed, but he was unashamed to share his joyful report with anyone who would listen.  As Michael ordered Champaign for everyone in the restaurant, and continued in excited conversation with those around him, she stared out the window at her new home, and smiled.

*

_______________________________________________

*

This story is derived from a vision, which was received during a time of prayer.  While I’ve added some detail to make the scene more accessible, the vision itself told the same story. 

 *

At the end of the vision I felt like the Lord said, “This is a picture of my Bride.  She yearns to live in my Kingdom, she yearns for the things that this marriage will afford her, she yearns for the treasures of my store houses, but she doesn’t necessarily yearn for Me.” 

*

While the Lord intends for His Kingdom to be inviting and to be lavish with His children, I believe His heart yearns for a Bride who will love Him for who He is.  I pray that we would become such a Bride.

*

From the book, “Along the King’s Highway” by Bryan J. Corbin

Published in 2008 (ISBN 978-1-4363-6965-7)

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His Workmanship

Posted in Heart of "The Father", Word Pictures, tagged , , , on February 12, 2010| Leave a Comment »

It is one of those cool clear nights, when every star in the heavens seems to be visible. The moon is but a sliver and sits low on the horizon. Other than the steady chiming of the crickets, there is no sound. There is only enough light to see vague silhouettes in the distance, except for the yellow glow coming from the partially open door on the shed.

 

Though the door is only slightly ajar, the light pours out from it. As I move closer, a faint gnawing sound can be heard coming from inside. The hour is late and these are the only signs of life.

 

As I peek through the opening, the room seems filled with more light than could be produced by the little lantern on the workbench. It makes the room seem warmer than the cool night air. At the bench sits a craftsman, with his head bowed low and his shoulders shifting from the intent work of his hands. From behind he seems to be very focused on his work and unaware of my presence.

 

I creep closer, straining to elongate my body in hopes of catching a glimpse of the object in his hands. It appears to be a small wooden figure and he is handling it as though it is fragile. On the bench before him is an array of knives, chisels and picks, used to whittle the wood; and I see him deftly shift from one tool to another, as he hones every crease and edge. The intricate detail of the etching reveals the skill of his hands and the depth of the vision he has for this creation. His steady and patient movements reveal his commitment to fully realize this vision. Though the hour is very late, there is no sense that he’s concerned about the time. His loving, gentle touch speaks of his passion for this work.

 

Occasionally, he holds the piece close to his face, to blow a stray sliver away. There is no pause in his manner; every movement of his hands seems filled with significance. As he sets down the finest of his picks, I sense that the work is done. There is a low hum that seems to come from within him and I sense that he is smiling. He gently caresses his new creation, holding it up to the light and looking at it from every angle. It is a beautiful piece of work and more intricate than I could’ve imagined was possible. Sensing that he is finished, I back away and suddenly the lantern within the shed goes out.

 

There is a stirring that happens within the heart of love and as it wells up, it becomes an inspiration. If that inspiration is embraced, it becomes a passion, spilling out of the heart and becoming manifest for all to see. In the heart of a painter, it spills onto a canvass; in the heart of a musician, it comes out as a melody; from the heart of a sculptor, it takes on a form and from the heart of a parent, it is expressed in their children. Creation is the manifestation of inspiration and it is truly divine.

 

For those who create with their hands, each piece is a one of kind. Each creation is an expression of the heart of its creator and as such reflects an aspect of their being. There is much that can be learned about an Artisan by studying what they’ve made; each piece invaluable in the understanding of their heart.

 

One night, long ago, your Creator was stirred in His heart, and that stirring became His inspiration to create you. He formed you with His very own hands, and with painstaking detail He fashioned your heart. There is nothing about your being that is a mistake or an oversight, each part of you was created with intent and purpose. Who you were made to be is not just the accumulation of past experiences, good or bad. You were made to be a reflection of the heart of your Creator, and as such there is something of Him that is uniquely revealed in you. His light and life can show through you in a way that can be expressed by no other creation.

 

If you don’t become who He made you to be, there is an aspect of Him that the world might never see. You are a one of a kind, unique across all of time and irreplaceable. When He was done forming you, He sat back and admired His work. He still does. He knit you together in your mother’s womb, He created your inner most being; all the days ordained for you were written in His book, before one of them came to pass. You are His workmanship, only He knows the real you and it is only through Him that we can come to understand who we were made to be. He yearns for you to find all the good things that He wove into your being; He yearns for you to know the truth about you, and about Him. You are significant because you were made in His image and He’s destined you to return to Him.

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