Tears of our Father

Our Father’s Tears

            The Lords wants all to be saved . . . and he waits patiently. Millions of souls are in the balance, millions of souls marching into eternity. Most have no clue where they will spend eternity. Sadly, most don’t even care. 

            One night I had a vision of a multitude of expressionless people walking face forward, turning neither to the left nor to the right. They walked as though they had no power within them to stop or consider their direction. They had stopped being real—they were as dead men walking. This scene haunted me, so I followed to see where they were going. The more I walked with them, the greater the pressure was to continue with them. The crowd behind was growing in number, and the space around us was limited. And so we walked faster, faster.  

              Soon we were almost in a dead run, not the kind of run people do to get where they would like to go but one of trying to escape. As we increased our efforts to escape, the people behind only pushed us faster in the same direction. We were like animals being loaded for slaughter. Trying to escape by running up the loading chute, they find themselves in the trailer, confined and doomed to a certain death with no hope of escape. They realize too late that they need to turn around. And then the pressure of the animals behind them blocks them into their fate. They thought they were escaping through the chute, but too late realized they were moving toward their own destruction and unable to change course.

            So it was with the walking dead. They were not dead physically, but they were dead to emotion, dead to reason. They were just functioning, moving like zombies. 

            As we were pushed and shoved to whatever lay ahead, a fog descended on us. Visibility dropped to only a few feet, and pandemonium mounted. Sudden fear enveloped us. We must be going in the wrong direction! We tried to stop but all the feet running behind us pushed us forward. We couldn’t turn back. We couldn’t even stop our advance.

            Suddenly I found myself looking into a mass of faces—those in front had turned and were trying to run against the flow. They were trying to flee something we were all headed toward. They were no longer emotionless—they were stricken with a terror so great I can’t put it into words. Eyes wide in shock, every emotion now alive, they were trying with an unnatural strength to push back against the flow of people coming their way. But they could not. They were running into the crowd, but their feet only stirred the dust. They planted their feet, but the crowd continued to push them forward. The air was filled with horrible panic and fear. These people were facing a sudden realization of a truth that could not be changed, a truth that was not in their favor, a truth they believed too late. 

           

            And then I reached the horror everyone was trying to escape. The most terrorizing state a human mind can ever grasp or experience. For only a split second, and yet a lifetime, I stood on the edge of a deep precipice, and an unimaginable sight opened before me. The fog was now lifted, the sounds horrific, the depths unforeseeable. The look in the eyes of those I watched as they were pushed over the edge was something I will never forget. The memory is seared into my brain like a bad dream I cannot erase. The sounds were indescribable—screams of terror, yells of rage, sounds that were not human. I felt myself pushed over and experienced the feeling people have when they suddenly realize the depths of the mistake they made. Like when a speeding driver looks in his rearview mirror and sees the lights of a police car closing the gap between them. He has no license, no insurance, and is wanted on a felony. He has a phobia of being locked in a room with no escape. He wishes he could go back and change things—but it’s too late. And so with the people at this precipice. Nowhere to run, no way to turn back. Only an immediate and certain doom.

            But I didn’t fall. I was suspended on the brink. I could not see the depths, but I could hear the screams of the people as they descended out of sight. I could see fire down below, and I could see the smoke rising and smell the acrid fumes. I could sense the great evil that enveloped the place. But I did not fall. I found myself in the safe arms of an angel who held me suspended there in space, watching the scene before me. 

            Then the angel set me on a rock, safe above the mob. From that perch I could see the real picture before me. The reason there was no escape was shocking yet final. These people were doomed long before they reached the edge—their decision or failure to decide had sealed their fate long before. Not choosing is by default to allow the enemy to choose for you. God will not choose for you—He provided the only way of escape, but He wants us to freely choose it. 

            I looked to the horizon. God gave me a supernatural view, and I could see the whole picture from beginning to end. 

            At the beginning of the journey were little children playing happily on the hills. As they grew, they all were motivated by some internal call. They would leave the others and enter their chosen pathway to follow those who were already on it. As they walked, they laughed and talked; they rested by the wayside and enjoyed themselves to the fullest. Then they would come to a Y in the road. One side led upward through a narrow passage. The other led in a slightly downhill direction. It was large and full of people. Each person approaching the Y paused—and made a choice. Most just followed the masses, not even considering the smaller way. However, some of them stopped and looked up at the rock above the small trail. There they saw a handsome young man with a kind face and a warm smile. He stood beckoning with open arms, and I saw scars on the palms of his hands. 

            On the other side of the Y was a multitude of characters, laughing raucously and showing open disregard for the man with the scars in his hands. They were enticing people to their side by telling of pleasure to be had, fun to be experienced, just around the bend. Besides, one look told the approaching people the broad road looked much easier to travel than the narrow pathway, which was rough and steep even from the beginning.  

            The man with the scars said nothing. But he beckoned the people to come as he pointed to a cross standing over the opening in the rocks. Many who looked at him paused only a moment . . . and then turned to take the wide path. But others entered the narrow way, sensing the sin in their life and feeling a need for forgiveness. Even against the call of the wide way . . .  even though they noted the difficult climb ahead . . . something within them drew them to the man with the scars. He embraced them and pointed the way on up the path. Thus began a difficult but rewarding journey. These travelers soon learned that they never had to face challenges alone. This kind man with the scars in his hands always provided the help they needed.

            Those on the other path found temporary pleasures, but as they continued their journey, life became empty. A slow but steady death began to envelop their emotions. The pleasures of life began to lose their luster. Traveling the wide path gradually dulled their senses. Without realizing what was happening, they were caught in a mob that pushed, shoved them forward.

            I watched the people on the small path as they climbed on. Many times I did not think they could make it, and then from nowhere a hand would reach down and lift them up. Then they would rest a while with others, enjoying their new view before again moving up the pathway. 

            All along the journey were trails connecting the two paths. However, as the pathways went forward, they spread farther and farther apart, making the trails longer between them. At each junction, people had a choice. Would they continue on the same pathway—or would they change to the other one? Men and women stood at these junctures, beckoning to those going by. Some invited people on the broad path to move to the narrow one. Most of them were not dressed in finery, but their faces expressed caring and concern. However, their voices were largely unheard. They told of difficult climbs but amazing views. They warned of impending doom for everyone who chose to continue down the large pathway. 

            The people on the large pathway mostly laughed. Looking ahead, they could see no danger; all seemed well. Occasionally someone would heed the people calling them to the narrow path. They would climb the connecting trail to the narrow path and begin the ascent, some to the finish and some simply to turn back when the going became difficult. Those who turned back rarely tried again. Some were even bitter about putting the effort out only to be further behind their friends when they returned to the large pathway.

           

            Another group made every effort to influence the people on the wide path to stay where they were. They told smooth lies, trying to convince the people if they continued down the large pathway, they would find excellent views and much satisfaction. They told the people if they went on the narrow way, they would miss out on life. They deceived the people into thinking the large and small pathways ended in the same place. Many of these deceivers were those who had walked up the narrow pathway at first but had tired of the seemingly endless difficulty and turned aside into a less challenging way. They had convinced themselves they would be fine. Sadly, they were deceiving others also. They wanted company on their journey and took comfort in the multitudes progressing downward with them. They had decided against the narrow road and did not want anyone else to succeed and prove them wrong.  

            Many of the climbers on the narrow way did become discouraged. Promises of an easier and more enjoyable walk enticed them and some gave in. Even though men and women from the narrow way pleaded with them to be faithful and offered comfort to the discouraged, not everyone chose to stay on the narrow path. 

            It was startling to see the masses walking into destruction, so unaware. Only a few even tried to learn where they were headed. All along the pathway were signs warning the travelers of the consequences of their choices. But these warnings were overshadowed by distractions designed to prevent as many people as possible from reading them. I noticed how the wide path grew even wider. The people seemed to multiply, streaming from the hillsides and even from the narrow way. 

            I saw many places on the narrow way where climbers were in low places, facing hard climbs. Some fell backward from the tough climb ahead. I saw evil beings darting among the rocks, briefly pouncing on the discouraged climbers and lashing them with whips. But then angels of God descended from the peaks and drove the evil ones away. However, with this cycle of abuse, even with an angelic deliverance, these people sank further and further into depression. All they saw before them was the climb. As they lay there on the ground, the incline became an insurmountable mountain before them.

            I saw many places where eloquent deceivers stood in the narrow way as though they were on it. But they had only climbed up that way to deceive. They would return to the wide path when they were satisfied with the loss they had caused. Or when God, fed up with their deceit, would send his angels to run them off and send them howling down to the wide way. These were lawless men and women who had convinced themselves that God’s love covered all their sins regardless of the path they followed. 

            On the narrow path, I also saw people in rags who were full of legality and harsh words. They were struggling to climb these hills with heavy packs on their backs. They were constantly reaching out to other climbers and trying to place heavy packs on their backs also. They were often found struggling to climb the path because of these heavy loads, their negative and demanding words discouraging other would-be climbers. Some decided if they had to carry these heavy weights, they’d never make it . . . soon they were found traipsing downward to the wide path. 

            Many saw the men and women who insisted on carrying the heavy backpacks as true climbers and thought it would be good to bear the heavy packs with them. But often, after struggling with the weight of the packs for a while and listening to the harsh words of the legalistic leaders, they became bitter and turned aside into rebellion, hatred, and unforgiveness. These were also found traipsing downward to the wide way. Bitterness blinded them to the truth. They didn’t understand the wonderful outcome of the narrow path . . . or the help they could have had along the way. They didn’t understand that the kind man with the scars in his hands would lift those burdens. And they were blinded to the fate of those traveling the wide path. Many never realized what was happening until they were caught up into the mass of people on the wide way. Then it was often difficult to return to the narrow path. 

            I was amazed at the difficulty of the narrow way until God opened my eyes. I saw at each point of difficulty was an angel of significant strength waiting patiently for the travelers to ask for help. Only those who looked up and asked for help ever saw them standing there and received their assistance. Pride and arrogance were abundant among the people on the lower levels of this climb. When my eyes reached the higher climbs, I realized there were not many people there. But those who had reached these heights were people who were quick to reach out for help and humble to receive it.

            Then I noticed again a point in the wide path where there was a slight Y in the road. The wide road plunged ahead and I could see the walls rising along the sides, higher and higher, as far as the eye could see. Most did not notice this change. They were so comfortable with their walk and their camaraderie with those around them that they did not pay attention to the slight changes, nor the slow angle downward. 

            The other road in the Y led to the narrow pathway. Another opportunity to choose. Along the path were many men and women pleading with tears for the souls of the travelers on the way to destruction. But the people of the wide way were drunk with the pleasures of their worldly journey. They scoffed at the last hope they had to change. To follow those who warned them of impending doom was to climb a difficult pathway to reach the narrow way, now winding far up into the peaks. 

            Sadly, a few at this point had turned back from the narrow way and were slipping and sliding down the connecting trail to the wide path. At one point was a large drop off that would make it difficult to return to the narrow path, now high above them. 

            I thought about what a sad place this was. I knew that without a miracle of God himself, those who continued on the wide way were now doomed to the pits of hell. They were trapped with no way of escape as the wall rose around them and the crowd gathered behind them. This was the point where the emotions of the people became deadened, at last realizing the hopelessness of the path they had chosen.

            The atmosphere on the narrow way was so different as the travelers approached journey’s end. The people sang, their home above in sight. While difficulties persisted, the reward was closer than ever before, and a great number of angels now accompanied them, encouraging and warding off the attacks of the enemy. 

            Now I began to see evil faces peaking from the crevices along the wide path. Occasionally they would lash out in torments, knowing those people could not escape. As the wide path narrowed and the rocks became higher, the crowd began to compress and the people had to run ahead to avoid being crushed. The evil ones rose from the rocks and lashed on these people, hurrying them the more. When someone tried to escape up the walls, the evil ones brought huge lashes down on them, forcing them to return. 

            Once again the scene reminded me of a herd of animals headed off to slaughter, driven by whips up a narrow chute and unable to escape because of the walls narrowing as they went and the push of the crowd behind them. Men and women tried to escape, only to find their lives swallowed up in the abyss of hell because they had chosen the wrong path. Or they had chosen not at all, and default is hell. The only way to avoid hell is to choose life!

            One sight brought a small drop of peace to the unraveling scene of chaos and brought me some comfort. Far away up on the mountaintop, I saw a mother crying out for her son, I saw a father pleading for his daughter, I saw a son pleading for his mother, I saw a daughter pleading for her father.

            Then I saw a legion of angels sweep from the sky. The evil ones screamed in anger. I saw the life of a child spared as the angels swooped down and caught him up before he fell into the abyss. 

            While all men and women choose their destiny, God honors the prayers of the faithful. Because of his great mercy, sometimes he pulls those beyond the reach of mortal man from the gates of hell and allows them one more opportunity to choose.

            My heart broke as I stood on this rock and watched the madness. My eyes fell on the people who were entering the walled places of the wide path. They were so close to the connecting trail that they could still turn and make a break for it and find life. 

            I prayed, “Father let me warn them.” He granted my wish. I ran to them and yelled words of warning and told them they had one last chance. But their eyes remained emotionless. I ran forward to the area before the walls began to rise along this wide path, where people were entering this last passage—but they still paid no attention to my pleading. Their ears they had already closed.  

            I pleaded, “Oh, Father, do something to open their eyes.” But then I knew. They had passed by so many opportunities. Our Father had loved them, drawn them. Jesus had died for them. And yet they had refused God’s love. They had refused his path. I knew His heart was broken for those who would not listen. As I looked upward in prayer, I felt warm tears fall on my face and arms. I knew they were the tears of our Father.

Judgement by Art

Judgment by Art

                An art teacher called his class together to give them a unique assignment. “I want each of you to paint a picture of me. When you finish, I will reward you according to your effort.” 

                The class members looked anxiously at one another. They were afraid—afraid they couldn’t justly portray their teacher, a master in art. Seeing their fear, the teacher spoke kindly. “Don’t be afraid to do this. You may fear an inaccurate portrayal of my features, but I am not looking for perfection. I know your rendering won’t be perfect, but I want to see what I have instilled in you these many months I have been teaching you. I want your work to reflect your heart.”

                Then, taking paper and paints, the teacher distributed them equally among the class so no one was either better supplied or less supplied than the others. “Now each of you has the same paper and paints. Each of you has the tools needed to perform your task. Do your best with what you have.” 

                One student raised his hand. “Yes, but some of us are more skilled than others. They will undoubtedly illustrate your features more accurately than the rest of us will.”

                Smiling, the teacher gently responded. “The perfectly painted picture is not one that copies the outward appearance of the original. It’s the one that portrays the model’s character and heart.” 

                The students were quiet as they considered their teacher’s words. Finally, one spoke up. “What will you judge our work on?” 

                 “Your painting will be judged on the effort behind your work. I already know your individual skill levels. The effort you put forth will reveal your heart.”  

                The teacher continued his instructions. “When you are finished with your drawing, trade papers with the person sitting next to you. You will judge each other’s papers before I make the final judgment.” 

                The students eyed one another apprehensively. It was one thing to have the teacher judge their work. He understood their struggles and was compassionate, but their fellow students would surely be more judgmental. Those with more artistic talent would likely fail those who had less.

                “One more thing,” explained the teacher. “You will put your name on the paper when you are finished, and the one who judges your paper will put his or her name right below yours along with their judgment of your painting. The way you judge your classmate’s drawing will influence how I judge yours. Be careful how you judge.” 

                The students forged ahead on their assignment. Many had a passion to bring out the teacher’s character in their work. Some focused on perfecting the image. Some concentrated on the background. Some could only see the care and compassion their teacher had shown them. A few finished quickly. Others worked for many days. One in particular struggled until the last moment, and even then, many thought his drawing was lacking and unimportant.

                The drawings were finished. The peer judgments were made and recorded. And now it was time for the final judgment by their teacher.

                As the students gathered, the teacher stood before them and asked each one to bring their papers to him. He studied them and graded them as he alone could. He considered the skill of the student, the effort put into it, and the judgment passed on their fellow student.

                At last, the teacher indicated he was finished and called the students before him. Something had changed. The undercurrent in the room was different. The teacher did not appear as soft and kind as he had before. His somber countenance portrayed an air of serious judgment. A feeling of restlessness stirred among the students as many began to fear they had not done enough to ensure even a passing grade.

                Finally, the teacher spoke. “Why are you so apprehensive? If you have done your best and been diligent, you need not fear,” he said. “But if I was not worthy of your best effort, then I must judge you for that. You see, before I was your teacher, but now I must be your judge.”

                So he began. First, the teacher called before him the one who had struggled so hard. He looked on the student with compassion. On the surface, the artwork was far from masterful. There were smudges around the painting, and it was clearly not the work of an excellent artist. The teacher looked up and noted the sadness on the face of the student. “What is it, son? Why do you look so fearful?” 

                “Oh, my teacher,” exclaimed the student. “I have done so poorly at representing you in my art. You have been so kind to me and I wanted to show you great honor through this painting. But, as you can see, I just don’t have the skill to do that.”

                The teacher smiled, and a tear slipped from his eye. “My son, you have done more than any skilled artist could to honor me. I have watched you labor without measure to bring a worthy work before me. You have done more than any other because you gave your heart. You have brought me much glory in this work. 

                Your fellow students also saw the effort you were willing to put into this, even though you knew you didn’t have the skill to illustrate my features perfectly. But you labored on and willingly sacrificed your time and reputation for me. I am honored more by this than any work of art. I am not looking for perfection on the outside. I am looking at the character and devotion on the inside. 

                Even more notable is the compassion with which you have judged your fellow student. You looked for the good in his work. You praised the way it compliments my features. You did not focus on the imperfections. You extended grace to him. Thus it is with great joy that I give you the highest grade—my signature of approval. I want all to know this student has brought more honor to me than all. The least shall be the greatest.”

                And each one was thus judged according to his or her ability, but mostly by the way they had judged one another. Those who rendered harsh judgments were judged more severely. They received passing grades only through the grace and forgiveness of their teacher.

                But one did not pass. Ironically, he was the one they all thought would receive the highest grade. He had finished his work in mere hours, and it looked perfect to the rest of the students. But the teacher was not so pleased. “You have the greatest artistic ability, but you took the easy path. You hurriedly painted my face, but did not consider my heart. You did not think my honor worth the effort to spend time bringing out the love in my eyes and the softness in my features. Instead, you have painted me as anyone in a crowd, not as your teacher. Shouldn’t you have given me a distinct look, one that shows respect? You see, you of all the students had the ability to paint my features in a way that would have brought out all my character traits, but you chose not to honor me with your effort. I find you guilty of slackness and unworthy to receive the same grade as those who expended great effort to honor me. 

                “And even more, my son, I have before me your judgment of your fellow student—one who has labored to the end to honor me. You have noted every error you could find. Not once have you recognized the effort or the heartfelt quality in his work. In fact, you have noted that your fellow student should not be approved as an artist of credibility. You have disregarded my command to judge as you want to be judged, and I will judge you by your own hand. You alone have received a failing grade, and I find you unworthy of this institute of art.”

                Shock rippled through the students when they heard their teacher’s judgment. Then they began to realize they were acceptable, not because of their skill but because of the effort each was willing to give in honor of their teacher. And when they judged their fellow students with grace, their teacher in turn showed them grace. They were humbled that the teacher accepted them as worthy artists—not because of their skill but because of his grace.

                In a classroom where one can receive failing grades, make a change, and have a second chance at a passing grade, the consequences are small. But in the classroom of life where judgment is final, we best heed the words in God’s Word. They are final.

We cannot earn our way to heaven with our good works. We are only saved by believing in Jesus Christ and accepting him as Lord and Savior.

But—“When God our Savior revealed his kindness and love, he saved us, not because of
the righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He washed away our sins,
giving us a new birth and new life through the Holy Spirit.”
Titus 3:4-5 NLT

Our focus in life should always be on honoring him and his plan for our lives.

So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31 NLT

We should treat others as we want to be treated. We should judge others with the same grace Jesus has extended to us. Just as our heavenly father encourages us, we should encourage others and so bring out the best in them.

Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.
Ephesians 4:29 NLT

Following the Master

                Christians everywhere claim the love of Christ, and many help build communities and churches around the globe. Some churches have grown to mega numbers. But are they as deep as they are wide? Do they see and reach out to the needs of hurting people, no matter who they are? Do they stay sensitive to God’s leading, or do they get so caught up in numbers and growth and meeting man-made goals that they drift from God’s perfect plan?

                God calls us to respect our leadership and to support one another in our Christian community and in our church family. I believe this is not only a command but also a representation of Christ and His love for the church. But what is any organization or community made up of? What is any church family made up of? Individual believers. Sadly, sometimes those individual believers become so committed to a leader that they lose their focus on Christ. Or they get so immersed in a program or goals of the church or other ministry that they become insensitive to what the Holy Spirit is leading them to do. The programs and goals may be excellent, but we should not let anything become more important than our personal relationship with Jesus and our obedience to the leading of the Holy Spirit. We are in danger if we depend on people or things or theology more than on Christ.

                No matter how large the organization or church family, it is still made up of individual believers. If those individual believers have a close relationship with Christ and follow Him, the ministry can be effective. The leadership is there to equip the people to do the work of the ministry and reach out to the lost with the love of Christ. The leadership’s role is not to do all the praying, do all the Bible study and hand-feed it to the congregation, or do all the visiting. Every individual in the body needs to passionately seek a closer walk with Christ. To seek direction from Him through His Word and through prayer. To use the gifts God has given. When individual believers are committed first to personal growth with Christ, they enhance and encourage growth among the whole group. They become reflections of Christ, supporting one another and promoting the Spirit of Christ. Only then can the church or organization most effectively do what God has called them to do.

                The success of any church group or organization depends on individual commitment to God’s will. God has gifted each individual for a unique purpose. When we recognize our gifts and use them according to God’s plan for us, He will weave the roles of the individuals into a stronger and more effective body of Christ. If all were prophets, to whom would we prophesy? If all were pastors, who would hear the Word of God? If all were laymen, who would preach? When we all follow the personal leading of Christ, we build up and support one other in the community setting and make a positive difference in the kingdom of God.

                The following allegory demonstrates the importance of our individual commitment to Christ. It is not a condemnation of the community setting and support. The commitment of individual believers to Christ serves to strengthen Christian community. We are called to love and support one another in our joys and our sorrows. To commend one another to Christ and to be responsible to one another. But all this must be supported by our commitment first and foremost to Christ. As you read and consider the allegory, may God speak to your spirit and build up within you a commitment to Him no matter what the cost. May you realize that you can make your way through any challenge if you put your trust in Christ.

                Come with me for a moment into the musings of my mind. Allow me to paint a picture of kingdom truths. I pray it will make a difference in your life . . . and in your commitment to Jesus.

The Dream

                As I lay musing on the Word of God, I had a vision whose meaning I could not ignore. I saw the whole world as one place. Many of the people were as sheep without a shepherd. And then I saw Him. My heartbeat soared when I saw His face. His eyes reflected extraordinary kindness . . . and a certain sadness. He beckoned and yet few came. He gave an invitation but hardly any accepted. That must explain the sadness. The love that radiated from His face spoke of love so great that He would freely give His life to save others. And then in my dream the vision expanded . . . .

                I saw a great mountain on my right and many more on my left. An entire range of mountains formed a circle with the highest peak reaching up into heaven. And in the midst of these mountains was a great valley where millions of people were milling about. They were scattered throughout the great valley and seemed to be immersed in a frenzy for gain. From where I stood, they looked to be mad as they ran back and forth gathering this and gathering that. Some were engrossed in pleasures, laughing and being merry. Others simply slept their time away as though time would never end. Some were frantically trying to get more . . . more money, more popularity, more power, more stuff. The madness of it astonished me, and I pondered its existence.

                  Then I saw droves of people scaling the mountains that surrounded the valley, some on this mountain and some on that one. Some had reached the top of their chosen mountain, but their faces reflected little satisfaction in the heights they had reached. 

                One mountain was different. It was larger. It was mightier. It was majestic. The peak was not visible because of the clouds surrounding it. Looking at such a mighty mountain could instill fear. Fear of climbing it. But a few people were slowing making their way up. They had a determined look on their faces as though they were motivated by something bigger than their own desires. The pathway up the mountain, although narrow, was clearly defined. The path continued even through areas that appeared impossible to scale.

                 Some of the people trying to climb this mountain chose paths other then the narrow, well-defined one. On the lower levels were people who had reached dead-ends because they had not followed the established pathway. Slowly this picture began to form in my mind and my curiosity increased . . . I longed for its meaning. 

                As my eyes followed the defined pathway up the mountain, I noticed the contrasts in terrain. It was steep at times. It dipped into valleys at times. Springs bubbled along the way for those who were thirsty. Some points presented grueling challenges—every climber was put to the test. These difficult spots caused many to turn back and return to one of the valleys below, where they settled and stayed. From these valleys at different stages up the mountain, they encountered future travelers and were eager to give these new climbers a message. Residents of each valley recited the same theme. I listened to what they had to say. “We have searched and found the answer and have determined we can go no further. For you to go on is foolishness and means certain failure.” Some were discouraged by these words and settled in a valley. But some continued climbing as though they were determined to conquer the mountain’s heights. They looked like ants trailing up the mountain. Some were scaling even the most difficult places. It was as if they were led by an inner desire and commissioned by a greater force or calling.

                 Slowly my eyes followed them up this mountain until I saw a scene that astounded me. Far up on the side of the mountain was one of these valleys, much larger than the ones below. A mass of people were milling about. The air teemed with confusion and tension. Small groups huddled, engaged in animated discussion with one another yet ignoring the other groups. Some individuals stood alone, rejected. It appeared that each group member had similar goals, but they constantly argued among themselves what to do or how to do it. And each group avoided associating with other groups as though they were afraid of being tainted with their misinterpretation of some truth. Some, discouraged with the bickering and confusion, were heading back down the mountain. It seemed that most of the arguing was related to crossing the chasm that lay ahead of them. They disagreed about whether one could cross it alone or whether they needed to be directed by an organized group or a designated leader.

                Even with the disagreements and confusion, these people were different from those in the big valley far below, the ones frantically searching for gain. The mountain people appeared to be expecting something grand to happen, like the coming of the One who would take them to the heights above. 

                Then I noticed a bridge on the highest point at the edge of this valley. Carved in rock, it spanned a vast distance. From this side one could not see what lay on the distant side, for it was hidden in a mist of clouds. It would require faith for the climbers to believe the bridge reached somewhere better then where they now stood. This bridge was daunting even to the bravest. No one could walk across its narrow surface. 

                Then came a Man of great stature, reaching out His hand and beckoning to those in the valley. It was the kind One. The One filled with love. One climber with little strength reached out and took the Master’s hand, then walked with Him across this great span. Far below was the big valley with its maddening distractions and closer up were the rocks of despair inhabited by many who had given up the journey. They had taken the hand of the Master but then became distracted and let go, only to slip and fall to the rocks below. Some fell to their death. Some returned to the upper valley and settled for that height. This scene further explained the sadness that touched the kind face of the One who had appeared first in my dream. People didn’t want to finish the journey enough to trust Him for His help. Happily, others were not ready to give up. They again reached out for the Master’s hand and continued on the journey. 

                I wondered, What does this mean? Why do they wish to cross this great bridge? Suddenly I found myself at the bridge’s beginning. I looked out onto its rocky surface and saw a path, well worn by the Master. His treading back and forth on its surface had worn it smooth for our crossing. As He drew near, I saw the love on His face and felt His hand drawing me to Him. As I prepared to step out, many came to me and warned me not to go without man’s approval. Some cautioned me the journey was impossible. They said I would never make it. I wondered why they could not see the Master and feel His leading hand on their shoulders. Then I noticed with sadness that they had been blinded from looking too long at the depths below instead of looking on the face of the Master. They milled around enjoying the height they had settled for—and didn’t want anyone to go higher. I faltered for a moment. They were warning me of certain failure. But then I turned about and saw His face. I knew I would walk with Him. His eyes were full of love for these who stayed behind, who settled where they were comfortable. He communed with them where they were, but longed for them to gain new heights with Him. To become all He had designed them to be. I put my hand in the hand of the Master and said, “Lead on, my Lord.” We stepped out into space as though there were no bridge.

                I noticed that if I focused on His face, peace followed and fear was gone. But when I began to be distracted by the emptiness around me, or the depths below me, I began to waver. In fact, I began to long for the comfort and safety of the valley I had just left. I glanced below at the bodies of those who had failed. For a brief moment I almost turned back to agree with those who stayed behind. Perhaps they were right. Maybe we could go no further. When I began to loosen my grasp on the Master’s hand, I felt myself beginning to fall. Quickly I look on His face. Such love. Such kindness. Such strength. I put my hand firmly in His and once more felt His peace envelop me. As we walked, I noticed He never pushed me forward nor held me back. He simply matched His pace to fit mine and patiently waited on me when I faltered. I knew if I chose to turn back, He would allow me to go. But I also knew my retreat would cause Him pain. He never lost that look of immense love for me, and together we walked side by side. I even found if I did not look down, the view around me was beautiful. The walk became one of joy.  

                 There were a few places where fear overwhelmed me and I couldn’t walk. But the Master simply stooped and picked me up, carrying me until the path was not so frightening. What a man, I thought, that He would bear my burdens as though they were His. And He never lost that love and compassion for me, even when I failed to trust Him only minutes after He had proved His trustworthiness. 

                As we walked along, the confusion in the background faded and was overtaken by the sound of music on the other side. And as we entered the mist, the sound grew louder. I heard singing more beautiful than I had ever heard. The magnificent chorus was inspired by the joy that radiated from those who had given their all for something and Someone greater than themselves. Then suddenly we were on the other side. Thinking back, I was surprised at how short the walk had been. We entered a new valley where I found a spring that quenched my thirst. I turned to thank the Master, but He was leaving . . .  once more traveling through the mist. I began to weep. He turned and said, “My child I am always with you. You need not fear. For each bridge that stretches out in front of you, I will be there to walk you safely to the other side.”

                My heart leaped within me and I joined the chorus of those who had gone before me. I knew I would journey up this mountain again. I knew that whenever He called out to me and beckoned me, I would follow, even if all my friends tried to dissuade me. I had learned that each time we follow the Master’s beckoning, we will gain new heights in our faith and new joys in Him. I felt sadness for those who remained content where they were, without a will to follow the Master along the narrow path. 

                Once again in my dream I saw the Master beckoning to those resting in the upper valley. I noticed that He called to those who had not been there long. I realized that people who settle at a certain height for a lengthy time no longer yearn to cross the bridge or to climb higher. They don’t watch for the Master’s beckoning hand. They are content to stay in their comfort zone with friends who urged them there.

Considering My Dream

                So what did my dream mean? The world is the great valley and the people there are the unsaved running about in search of fulfillment but never finding it because they are searching in all the wrong places. Many are following strange doctrines and gods. They believe they can find fulfillment and happiness in wealth, or good times, or fame, or power, or things. Sometimes they climb one of the lower mountains, but when they reach the top, they don’t find the satisfaction they had sought. They may find brief moments of happiness, but they will never find lasting joy. 

                The great mountain is Christianity and the narrow path is the way laid out by Christ. Those who begin climbing this mountain have heard of Calvary and set out to gain its reward. But some try to reach the summit through good works or following rules—not through the blood of Christ. They don’t recognize their need for a Savior. They scale the lower altitudes, only to find themselves at a dead end. They never climb the mountain and may even return to the great valley of the world.

                Others believe they are sinners and that Jesus died for their sins. They choose to receive God’s gift of forgiveness and begin to climb higher on the mountain. They are determined to glorify Him and follow His pathway, depending on Him to help them make the climb. 

                God alone knows who is saved and sincere in their decision to follow Him. Some who begin to climb the narrow path become discouraged when things become difficult and they return to their old ways. They choose their own desires over Jesus and His path to eternity.

                Others reach a certain height but are afraid to continue climbing. Or they are misled or discouraged by others and are content to go no further. They never know the fulfillment of Christ. They never become all He has created them to be.

                The people who reach the higher valleys have found peace in Christ but have not trusted Him with their all. They become content in their circumstances and friendships and quit looking for ways to grow closer to Him. They are unwilling to sacrifice all for Christ. Their friendships are too important; their status among other believers is more important than doing all Christ has called them to do. They contribute little to advancing the kingdom.

                Those willing to sacrifice all for Christ reach out and take His beckoning hand, and He leads them to new heights. When they face difficulties and challenges, they keep their eyes on Jesus and trust Him and His plan. They continue to scale the mountain, moving ever higher and higher as their relationship with the Master grows.

                We all come to times of decision in our walk with Jesus. Are we willing to leave all behind, even our friendships, if necessary, to fulfill the will of God? Are we willing to trust God even when we don’t understand the circumstances? Those who do will know a peace that will make any sacrifice of small price.

                God asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac on an altar, even though he was the promised son. God did not require the life of Isaac in the end; He just wanted to be sure Abraham would obey.

Abraham trusted God and His plan more than what he could see. Are you willing to do the same?

He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that
loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.         
                                                                                                        -  Matthew 10:37 KJV

The Little Eagle with the Broken Wing

The Little Eagle with the Broken Wing

            An eaglet was born in a nest high up in the treetops. His mother nourished him, along with his brothers and sisters. But this little eaglet was different from the others. He was small and puny, always restless and fluttering back and forth. The other eaglets picked on him, chased him, and flapped at him. Even his mother paid just the slightest attention to him. She fed him only out of natural instinct. Even the other eagles soaring about the sky slighted this little eagle’s worth.

            One day an eagle with a wounded wing saw the eaglet perched on the edge of the nest. This eagle, angry about his own wounds, swooped down and whacked the eaglet with his good wing. The startled little eagle plummeted to the ground. The other eaglets watched in amazement as their brother crashed and lay there, motionless. Both his wings were injured. The mother eagle swooped down a time or two to see what was happening but showed only a passing interest.

            A short time later, a stranger happened by and scooped the eaglet up in his hand. Seeing his wounded wings, the man set the eaglet on a small log to keep him off the ground and went on his way.

            By and by, a compassionate eagle flying low saw the eaglet. This eagle had lost her own eaglets to a predator. She adopted the wounded eaglet and began to feed and nourish him. However, she was wary about staying so close to the ground with the eaglet. She never stayed long for fear of being caught by an enemy.

            The young eagle grew and learned to hide and protect himself from his enemies. Occasionally a passing human would catch him. Once he was even put on a string and tied to a tree. Thankfully, it was a poor knot and he managed to wriggle free.
           

            As he grew, the young eagle struggled to make short flights. Finally, he could reach a limb higher off the ground. From that higher perch, he would watch the other eagles soaring effortlessly in the sky. They saw him watching and often swooped down to pick at him. When he had his guard down, they would sneak in behind him and knock him to the ground. Only with a great struggle would he once again fly up to the higher limb.

            One day the adoptive mother eagle stopped coming and bringing food. His siblings floated effortlessly on the wind under the watchful eye of his natural mother, but she continued to ignore little lonely eagle.

            An old man hobbled by that day. He spotted the eagle with wounded wings and felt sorry for him. On returning home, he couldn’t get that wounded little eagle off his mind. A few days later he came back and scattered some food on the ground. He waited for the eaglet, but the frightened bird just watched from his limb. Finally after the man left, the eaglet fluttered down and hungrily scarfed down the food. Once again he managed to reach his perch and rested contentedly with a full stomach. Day after day the old man came and put food on the ground for the young eagle. Every day the eaglet fluttered down to eat. And he grew.

            One day after eating, the eagle decided not to make the effort to fly up to the limb but sat on the ground all night. Another man, not so kind as the old man, happened on the young bird as dusk settled over the woods. Seeing the sleeping eaglet, he quickly made a net and captured the young eagle alive. Taking the eagle home, he put him in a hastily built cage and left him there.

            At first the young eagle fought the wires surrounding him but eventually settled in the corner, anxiously awaiting his fate.  Days passed. One morning the eagle’s captor rushed in with another man, whose evil eyes surveyed the young bird.  Some sort of deal was made and the evil man put a net over the eagle and carried him to his home, where he placed him in a cage in his backyard.

            Day after day the eagle sat in the cage, gazing sadly at the free birds soaring on the currents in the sky. At night he watched the sparkling stars until a new day dawned.

            The young eagle grew larger and stronger, but the evil man built a bigger cage with much sturdier bars to keep him in. Then the man did something strange—he brought a platter of something different for the eagle to eat. The eagle was not sure what it was but found it deeply satisfying and distracting. It soothed him to the point he became unmotivated. He began to live just for that special “food.” It made him forget his problems. He no longer yearned to be up in the sky soaring with the other eagles. He began to view his captor as less of an enemy and even a necessity. The eagle lived in a place of constant melancholy, just an existence. He did not even notice how much he had grown.    

            Another gentleman came by the home one day to ask about the eagle he had heard about, but the evil man would not let him in. He knew the gentleman was a bird lover and especially fond of eagles. He knew this stranger would not approve of the medication he was putting in the eagle’s food or of the bird’s condition, and he wanted to avoid an argument.   

            But the gentleman was not so easily dissuaded. During the wee hours of the morning before the eagle was fed his daily concoction, he squeezed through a gate and found the caged young bird. He spoke kindly to the captive. Reaching through the cage, he applied splints to the eagle’s wings. Every morning he would return and treat the young eagle, always keeping the splints from sight so the evil man wouldn’t discover them.

            Gradually the eagle’s wings healed. At last one morning the gentleman broke the lock and swung the gate open. “Go fly, young eagle, as you were meant to do,” he urged. “Go fly in the sky like the others and be free!”  

            Cautiously, the eagle stepped from the cage and flapped his now fully-grown and healed wings. Suddenly he was aloft and the wind rushed beneath him, lifting him ever higher. A feeling of exhilaration raced through him. He was free at last!  

            The evil man, finding the cage open, guessed what had happened, but he did not waste time on anger. He knew just what to do.  He knew the eagle would be back.

            Meanwhile, the young eagle flew on and on until he came into his own birthplace and rested on the edge of the nest. He watched his mother tenderly care for a new batch of eaglets. Why hadn’t she cared for him like that? The rejection by her and the other eagles began to weigh on him. Feelings of anger and pain mounted and began to drain the exhilaration of his newfound freedom. The old scars on his wings ached, and he suddenly found it difficult to fly. He swooped down and sat on the limb he had occupied so long as an eaglet.

            His mind wandered to the cage he had left. The food that dulled the pain. Suddenly he knew what he wanted. He flew up and away, right back to the evil man’s house. Flying low, he looked in the cage for the feel-good food. Sure enough, it was there. Without thought, he flew in the door and consumed it, but before the medicine took effect, he flew out into the forest where he was free.

            Daily he would swoop back to devour the food mix and fly away again. But the evil man was watching patiently. He knew the eagle would be more and more distracted. Would get more careless and spend more time in the cage. The day eventually came when the eagle turned from gulping down the meal to find the door slammed shut. He was a prisoner again.

            In time the kind gentleman again was able to sneak in and free the eagle, but the eagle got careless and returned to the cage for his treat, which eventually led to captivity again. This happened repeatedly. Could the young eagle ever be free? Eventually he chose freedom. He chose to turn to the one who could help him be free for life instead of to the temporary solutions provided by the drugged food. The eagle did indeed find true and lasting freedom through God’s great mercy.

            God gave me this story while I was dealing with the struggle of addiction.

             So often we cling to a crutch to handle our pain. But turning to the Master is the key to healing. The key to freedom.  Remaining free from crippling addictions takes more than perseverance—it takes a powerful desire for a deep and meaningful relationship with the Father. Allowing God to fulfill us and embrace us in His loving arms is a step of faith and belief.

            What is an addiction? Depending on a substance or relationship or habit to fix our problems, to help us cope with life’s struggles, to bring meaning to our life. A coping mechanism. Depending on anything or anyone other than God for resolution of our problems, for answers to life’s challenges.

            Even good things can become addictive when we depend on them more than on our Father. Addictions can be more than drug, alcohol, cigarette, or other substance abuse. They can be things like the need to succeed, to always be in control, to gossip, to live immorally, to disconnect, to eat excessively, to hide in distractions like TV, the Internet, hobbies, or work. We use various things to break the barrier of disappointment, boredom, pain, and anger. But they all have this in common: they do not bring us lasting peace and freedom from the pain. They only work to temporarily mask the pain, while putting us in a place of vulnerability to the enemy. These temporary fixes bring us only temporary release. Then when they have lost their potency, we only sink deeper into despair.

            Addictions cripple us in our relationship to the Father. Our God will not share residence with the enemy. The enemy is the one who sells the lie and influences us to depend on things that have no real benefit in our lives. Things that will lead us to bondage. Things that place us in danger of being captive to the enemy’s will. Satan is our enemy. He wants to devour us, and he often works through people. In the eagle story, he worked through the evil man who offered the eagle a quick fix for his problems. And these quick fixes led to captivity. The eagle was turning to the wrong person for help.

            If we are dependent on some form of coping mechanism, the devil will capitalize on it and deceive us into embracing sin. When we fall into this kind of deception, we take a substance or submerge ourselves in a relationship or habit to cope and receive the feeling of contentment. But our problems are not solved—we are just developing a thirst for more of the coping mechanism. This defines addiction. The continual cycle of need, deceptive fulfillment, and greater need. A cycle that will lead to depression, despair, discontentment, and an unfulfilled existence.

            When we depend on anyone or anything other than God to help us cope, we eventually realize it isn’t working. Then we may begin to fall into deeper and deeper despair. The despair leads to a desperate need to cope, which only brings a limited solution. We turn to our coping mechanism more often until we eventually become depressed or accept our dependence on our coping mechanism.

            We become dependent on these mechanisms, and withdrawal from them causes much pain. (Remember the eagle.) This is why we end up in bondage to the enemy. He sees our pain and our coping mechanisms—and he capitalizes on them to his benefit and our harm.

            The world’s solutions may help us cope—temporarily. But God takes away the need for coping by showing us our pain and healing us of it. Then we are free indeed.

            Anything we use to cope with pain other than going to the One who created us places a wall between our God and us. A wall between our pain and the only One who can heal us.

            The answer? Release our pain to God and give up our dependence on other people or things. Then focus on building a relationship with God. Only then will the void in our life be filled.

Release your pain to God.

Give up your dependence on a coping mechanism.

Focus on a relationship with God.

Receive the peace you long for.

            We must being honest with ourselves. We must admit who and what we have become and why we have allowed it. We must recognize what we do to cope with our pain and how that is affecting our ability to have a deep relationship with our heavenly Father. After all, He is the only one who can give us true healing, freedom, peace, joy, and completeness.

            When you develop the kind of relationship with the Father that He intends, you will never want to go back to the old life. Once you develop this kind of relationship with God, you will no longer desire the negative influences that haunt you now. You may sometimes feel a wave of old desire or temptation, but you will stop and consider the cost of giving in. You will begin to value the intimate relationship you have with the Father above anything else, and you won’t want to do anything to destroy that. This is true freedom: the overpowering desire to say no to anything that could jeopardize the peace and fulfillment that come from a close and personal relationship with the Father.

            You cannot have that kind of relationship while being a yoyo with sin and addictions. Count the cost and flee the addiction that made you vulnerable to the wiles of the devil.

            Because few people cultivate this kind of relationship with the Father, we have a generation of people struggling to cope with unresolved issues and pain. This is not something new to the world but it is abounding in this generation and will only increase in the generations to come.

            Ask yourself . . .

What motivates me each day to do what I do?

What gives my life meaning?

What is there in my life, that if removed, would cause withdrawal?

How do I respond to pain or disappointment?

How do I respond to excitement?

Most of all, what stands between me and complete submission to God?

            Anything you use to cope with life’s everyday struggles will be used by the devil to bait you into sin and imprisonment to his desire.         Continually seek a closer relationship with God, and these coping mechanisms will begin to lose their appeal. Then you will be free indeed.

            True freedom is recognizing all we need for a fulfilled life is a relationship with God through His Son Jesus Christ.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

John 8:36 NIV