Tag: afflictions

People of the Fire

“Whatever we build on that foundation will be tested by fire on the day of judgment. Then everyone will find out if we have used gold, silver, and precious stones, or wood, hay, and straw. We will be rewarded if our building is left standing. But if it is destroyed by the fire, we will lose everything. Yet we ourselves will be saved, like someone escaping from flames.” 

1Cor. 3:12-15, CEV

“The fire doesn’t make you what you are; it reveals what you were.”  

Jack Hyles

Christianity at the end will basically an incendiary endeavor.  We understand this and know the need for quality, which we should be building into our lives.  What makes us think this is that fire is the metaphor that describes what the Holy Spirit is doing. A torch will be set to ones construction.  This sounds all wrong and yet it does explain our built-in need of proving what is authentic.  Our building supplies may vary, and the quality will need to be continuously monitored.  Things that are real, will last.

When we see the torch thrown on the pile, we must get ready for it to burn all that can be burned.  This is undoubtedly an unpleasant and anxious process, but it happens no matter what we think.  Only fire will determine our authenticity.  As it burns, only precious jewels, gold and silver show a magnificent durability.  The rest is reduced to ashes. Things of permanence are left when everything is burned away.  We rake through the ash piles looking for the things that have endured. Gold and silver, red rubies and glittering diamonds are that which will survive.  The fire could not destroy these precious things.

For years this passage has frightened me.  My anxiety over this has grown when I actively consider the negligence and foolishness of my life.  When I think about what could be, I’m intimidated by this principle of testing, and the ‘Day of Judgement’.  It is hard for me to rest in grace on these days.

I guess I feel responsibility, accountability and my awareness of shame.  I have lived my life somewhat ‘frantically’, which has disturbing  consequences for me.  I don’t want them.  I do not want to be evaluated with the torch.  The day of judgement frightens me.  I do not want to be brought to terms with my mammoth sized foolishness.  It makes me very nervous.

But my reading of the Word makes judgement inevitable.  But we have been given time and space to change our lives.  There is no way we can skirt this reality, the man who was building could choose any foundation he wished– would it be the rock, or the sand?  It’s all on you.  It’s your call.

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My Deliverer

My Deliverer

“So Jehoahaz pleaded with the Lord, and the Lord listened to him, for He saw the oppression of Israel, because the king of Syria oppressed them.”  2 Kings 13:4

“Then the Lord gave Israel a deliverer, so that they escaped from under the hand of the Syrians; and the children of Israel dwelt in their tents as before.”  2 Kings 13:5

I see this:
Our pleading + God’s listening = Our Deliverance

Lord, I’m pleading with You for deliverance of those who are being oppressed today.  And here’s a simple poem . . .

Pleading

The oppression is so great
they can but hardly pray

and so I’m pleading with You
to please take it away

lift the heaviness
that keeps pushing them down

let them see their Deliverer
has come to save them now.

Amen.

Deb’s Blog of Simple Poems and Faith

http://iftodaywehear.wordpress.com/2012/03/12/my-deliverer/

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Evil Gets a Makeover

by Catherine DeMonte LFMT

God delights in changing evil things into good. He has this crazy habit of taking dark things and making them new. Many of us have a checkered past, many hurtful and ugly things have been committed on us, as well as by us. We have been wounded, and we have hurt others.

There are some of us with a mental illness. And some with a chemical dependency. These have been a factor in our sin, but they are not excuses. The Book of Proverbs describes this “playing with fire.”

“Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned?”

Proverbs 6:27, ESV

The first step we take is to “own up.” But alas, we have hid it for so long, denying and pretending that we have not been harmed, or have harmed others. We are masters of disguise, masquerading as whole people. When I was a boy, I often earned the task of cleaning the barn. You would scrape the manure into the gutter, and then dusted lime over anything left behind. But it was only cosmetic, it was simply covered up.

The deep promise of Jesus is not cosmetic. It is not superficial; it is not just “skin deep.” The profound actuality is that our transformation is inside out. It is a work that starts in our heart, and then works itself out where people can see. We have all tried to clean things up, but what we don’t need is more lime.

The love and forgiveness of our Lord is what we really must have. Our sins are making us very unpleasant people. As we get older we find that our evil has been compounded and extrapolated. The infection only spreads, and it gets worked throughout our lives and relationships. This is ruinous, and David understood.

“Then I confessed my sins to you
and didn’t hide my guilt.
I said, “I will confess my sins to the Lord,”
and you forgave my guilt. “

Psalm 32:5, NCV

We are sinners, and some of us are very talented at it. It is an art form to us. Our entire society, and every social aspect is sick with it. Jesus who knows us completely, and He loves us the most.

“In Christ we are set free by the blood of his death, and so we have forgiveness of sins. How rich is God’s grace,8 which he has given to us so fully and freely.”

Ephesians 1:7,8

“I sinned against the Lord,
so he was angry with me,
but he will defend my case in court.
He will bring about what is right for me.
Then he will bring me out into the light,
and I will see him set things right.”

Micah 7:9, NCV

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Broken Prayers From the Edge

I lock the doors.  Close the curtains.  And let God have it.

I clinch my fists in a maddening rage as my hands tremble violently.  Within moments, my fingers ache from the intense, white-knuckle tightness.  And my forearms cramp up.  The blood rushes to my head.  And my eyes burn and burn and burn from the tears.

I speak, then shout — and scream.

My voice becomes raspy as I rant.  And soon, my throat burns.  My heart is aflame with grief and rage, so much so that my ears can no longer understand the words coming out of my mouth.  Before it’s over, I will blow my nose several times and wipe my eyes often and much.

I am broken — and I am praying.

I start with the loss of my friend, JD, a man taken far, far too soon.  A man who left behind a wife and two children.  I tell God that I do not think it is fair for his children to grow up without a father.  And then, I ask God why He didn’t take me instead, that I want to be with my children, that I don’t have any here for me.

“All I do is suffer and I am sick to death of it!!!”

And then, I rant about all the believers — never the broken — who paint a picture of life with Christ as a portrait of perfection.  Their grandiose testimonies have made me feel like God has something against me, like grace is a joke for people like me because my life has been so hard.  My brokenness is not the result of one trial, nor one tragedy — but a lifetime of unbearable loss.

“And it just keeps happening!!!”

I rattle off the names of those I’ve lost in just the past five years:  Jerry, Britany, Virginia, Rob, Terry, Nancy, Leroy, Art, Kim, Greg, Melody — and now JD.  I tell God that I am the anti-Midas.  Everything King Midas touched turned to gold, but I feel like everything I touch turns to dirt.  I am cursed.  “God has raised His fist against me.”

“How am I supposed to go on?  How?”

And then, in that moment, all of my rage and all of my grief and all that I am burns and burns and burns for The Almighty.  I am a man of faith — and, even in the midst of this monstrous mess my life has become, I know that He could end every ounce of this despair with a simple whisper.  A sign.  A something.  Anything.

“If You would just speak, this madness would end!”

With the last tissue, I tell God that I am convinced He wants me to suffer — alone, in this maddening agony.  I tell Him that I have given up on Him, that I cannot take any of this any more.  That I am broken.  And my heart is dead.  My pain is too great, my anguish too deep.  And that I will never serve God again for as long as I live.

“I can’t do it!  I can’t do it!  I just can’t do it!”

Three days later, God spoke to me through a dream.

“In my dream, I had a vision…”

To learn more, read “Safe in the Mouth of Danger.”

 

Love,

The NorEaster

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