Monday, September 28, 2015

My Attorney

-- Author Unknown

After living what I felt was a "decent" life, my time on earth
came to the end. The first thing I remember is sitting on a
bench in the waiting room of what I thought to be a court
house. The doors opened and I was instructed to come in and
have a seat by the defense table. As I looked around I saw
the "prosecutor." He was a villainous looking gent who snarled
as he stared at me. He definitely was the
most evil person I have ever seen.

I sat down and looked to my left and there sat My Attorney, a
kind and gentle looking man whose appearance seemed so
familiar to me, I felt I knew Him.

The corner door flew open and there appeared the Judge in full
flowing robes. He commanded an awesome presence as He moved
across the room. I couldn't take my eyes off of Him. As He
took His seat behind the bench, He said, "Let us begin."

The prosecutor rose and said, "My name is Satan and I am here
to show you why this man belongs in hell."

He proceeded to tell of lies that I told, things that I stole,
and in the past when I cheated others. Satan told of other
horrible perversions that were once in my life and the more he
spoke, the further down in my seat I sank. I was so
embarrassed that I couldn't look at anyone, even my
own Attorney, as the Devil told of sins that even I had
completely forgotten about. As upset as I was at Satan for
telling all these things about me, I was equally upset at My
Attorney who sat there silently not offering any form of
defense at all. I know I had been guilty of those things, but
I had done some good in my life - couldn't that at least equal
out part of the harm I'd done?

Satan finished with a fury and said, "This man belongs in
hell, he is guilty of all that I have charged and there is not
a person who can prove otherwise."

When it was His turn, My Attorney first asked if He might
approach the bench. The Judge allowed this over the strong
objection of Satan, and beckoned Him to come forward. As He
got up and started walking, I was able to see Him in His full
splendor and majesty. I realized why He seemed so familiar;
this was Jesus representing me, my Lord and my Savior.
He stopped at the bench and softly said to the Judge, "Hi,
Dad," and then He turned to address the court. "Satan was
correct in saying that this man had sinned, I won't deny any
of these allegations. And, yes, the wage of sin is death, and
this man deserves to be punished."

Jesus took a deep breath and turned to His Father with
outstretched arms and proclaimed, "However, I died on the
cross so that this person might have eternal life and he has
accepted Me as his Savior, so he is Mine."

My Lord continued with, "His name is written in the book of
life and no one can snatch him from Me. Satan still does not
understand yet. This man is not to be given justice, but
rather mercy."

As Jesus sat down, He quietly paused, looked at His Father and
said,"There is nothing else that needs to be done. I've done
it all."

The Judge lifted His mighty hand and slammed the gavel down.
The following words bellowed from His lips... "This man is
free. The penalty for him has already been paid in full. Case
dismissed."

As my Lord led me away, I could hear Satan ranting and having,
"I won't give up, I will win the next one."

I asked Jesus as He gave me my instructions where to go next,
"Have you ever lost a case?"

Christ lovingly smiled and said, "Everyone that has come to Me
and asked Me to represent them has received the same verdict
as you, 'Paid in Full.'"

Monday, September 21, 2015

Take The Son

Author Unknown

A wealthy man and his son loved to collect rare works of art. They had everything in their collection, from Picasso to Raphael. They would often sit together and admire the great works of art. When the Vietnam conflict broke out, the son went to war.

He was very courageous and died in battle while rescuing another soldier. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son.

About a month later, just before Christmas, there was a knock at the door. A young man stood at the door with a large package in his hands.

He said, "Sir, you don't know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life. He saved many lives that day, and he was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart and he died instantly.

He often talked about you, and your love for art." The young man held out this package. "I know this isn't much. I'm not really a great artist, but I think your son would have wanted you to have this."
The father opened the package. It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. He stared in awe at the way the soldier had captured the personality of his son in the painting.

The father was so drawn to the eyes that his own eyes welled up with tears. He thanked the y
oung man and offered to pay him for the picture. "Oh, no sir, I could never repay what your son did for me. It's a gift".

The father hung the portrait over his mantle. Every time visitors came to his home he took them to see the portrait of his son before he showed them any of the other great works he had collected.
The man died a few months later. There was to be a great auction of his paintings. Many influential people gathered, excited over seeing the great paintings and having an opportunity to purchase one for their collection.

On the platform sat the painting of the son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. We will start the bidding with this picture of the son.

Who will bid for this picture?" There was silence.

Then a voice in the back of the room shouted, "We want to see the famous paintings. Skip this one."
But the auctioneer persisted. "Will someone bid for this painting? Who will start the bidding? $100, $200?" Another voice shouted angrily. We didn't come to see this painting. We came to see the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts. Get on with the real bids!"

But still the auctioneer continued. "The son! The son! Who'll take the son?"
Finally, a voice came from the very back of the room. It was the longtime gardener of the man and his son. "I'll give $10 for the painting." Being a poor man, it was all he could afford.
"We have $10, who will bid $20?"

"Give it to him for $10. Let's see the masters!" someone shouted.
"$10 is the bid, won't someone bid $20?"

The crowd was becoming angry. They didn't want the picture of the son. They wanted the more worthy investments for their collections.

The auctioneer pounded the gavel. "Going once, twice, SOLD for $10!"
A man sitting on the second row shouted, "Now let's get on with the collection!"
The auctioneer laid down his gavel. "I'm sorry, the auction is over."
"What about the paintings?"

"I am sorry. When I was called to conduct this auction, I was told of a secret stipulation in the will. I was not allowed to reveal that stipulation until this time. Only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, including the paintings. The man who took the son gets every thing!"

God gave His son 2,000 years ago to die on a cruel cross. 

Much like the auctioneer, His message today is: "The son, the son, who'll take the son?" Because, you see, whoever takes the Son gets everything.
-----
" He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life." - 1 John 5:12

Monday, September 14, 2015

The Angel

-- By Kathy Anne Harris


The middle-aged man parked his car at the top of the cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The early Spring sun was hanging low on the horizon, a warm silver-yellow. Lemony foam purled atop the incoming tide, as waves broke gently on the beach.

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Jeremy walked over to the ledge. A cold breeze, heavy with a salty mist, brushed over and around him, ran phantom fingers through his hair, as he descended the steep sand and wood stairs to the beckoning beach.

There was a lovely tide pool circled with boulders and tucked away behind a bend in the cliff side that few visitors to the beach would ever discover. A tiny ribbon of sand abutted the rocks and provided enough room for him to sit at water's edge. He sat down, leaned back against a large smooth rock, and gazed into the clear water of the tide pool. Each time a wave stretched out and collapsed on shore a ribbon of seawater would pulse into the pool then trickle back toward the ocean.

Colorful anemone and starfish moved slowly in their isolated world. Watching them usually managed to calm him. However, today he found himself on the other side of "usually managed." It was the kind of day where things that happened in the past, resurface, wanted or not! Nothing unique to the human race, just the usual emotions that assail us all: grief, anger, sadness, loneliness, shame… And this is where Jeremy came to work things out in his mind, if possible.

He did not hear the tinkling chime of disintegrating waves on sand. Nor the cries of the gulls overhead. Where the stairs bottom out on the sands of a nice sized beach, a family was playing fetch with their black, Labrador Retriever. He did not hear their laughter, or the excited bark of the dog.
His chest felt tight and weighted down. It was difficult for him to breath. He got to his knees and bent over the tide pool. Unbidden, tears welled up, and he wept. The sound of a crab scuttling over rock and sand drew his attention. He looked down and saw the crab disappear into a rock crevasse. He then studied his reflection in the still water. How ragged he looked, he thought. How worn down. He took a deep, settling breath and found the weight around his chest had lifted.

Another wave broke on the beach, a rivulet flowed into the pool and the water shivered. Jeremy reached out and dragged his fingers across the rippling surface. In moments the tidal pool was still and there, at his side, reflected in the pool was an angel. A grand being, with heavy, flowing wings the color of sunlight on pearls. And light pulsed from the angel like the flame of a candle. Such an image only the Divine could sculpt for it was beyond human beauty, The visage that regarded Jeremy was radiant with grace and the angel's countenance was like none Jeremy could describe. No such emotion or like expression had every played across a human face.

Jeremy trembled and all thoughts fled him, save for the presence of the angel. "Why?" he said, as he turned to the heavenly being at his side.

"I am an emissary, sent by the Creator, to be with you at such times as He decrees.
"As you sat here, your breathing was labored and you felt a heaviness inside of you."
Jeremy nodded.

"That weight was my presence with you, as I lifted the burden in your heart."
"The tears you wept, I gathered unto myself. I will present them to our Lord and he will return them to the heavens, to bless all things on the earth that flourish when gentle rains fall.
"The joy that will lift you up as you return to your world today will come as I embrace your spirit, to accompany me briefly, on my flight heavenward.

"And when it is your time to leave this place, I will hold your soul--for we will both be heaven bound, and my wings will take you home."

Jeremy shook his head. "But why am I allowed to see you? To hear you? Why was this done for me?"
The angel smiled. "It was allowed more for me. He gave me these few moments with you as a gift. A glorious token of His love... For it is an angel's heart's desire to be given time to commune with humans openly. To see one another with our eyes and to speak together with words."
"Will I remember my visit with you?"

The angel's eyes flashed the colors of sunrise. "Whether you shall recall our meeting I cannot say... that decision rests in our Lord's hands."
~*~
Jeremy did not remember, but the vision he beheld, and the words he heard, his spirit-soul will never forget.

Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Painful Forgiveness

By Rachel Tulloch

Wendell Berry tells the story of two friends who lived in a small community in Kentucky in the year 1912.  Ben Feltner and Thad Coulter were part of a close-knit agrarian community with strong ties to each other, to the land, and to hard work.  Yet tragedy ensued when Thad invested in a risky business deal with his son and lost out.  Humiliated and falling into despair, Thad drank himself into a stupor and then headed over to ask his friend Ben for help.  Ben did not want to discuss options with Thad in his condition, and so refused to talk with him until the next day when he was sober.  However, Thad succumbed to the darkness creeping over him and returned home to get his gun, which he then used to shoot Ben Feltner in a drunken rage.  The rest of the story was a beautiful tale of forgiveness and mercy offered by Ben’s family and the community.  Yet sadly, Thad himself was unable to experience that forgiveness because he could not bear to live knowing he had killed his best friend, and so ended his own life. 

The narrator then makes this profound comment: “People sometimes talk of God’s love as if it’s a pleasant thing.  But it is terrible, in a way.  Think of all it includes.  It included Thad Coulter, drunk and mean and foolish, before he killed Mr. Feltner, and it included him afterwards.”(1)
“God’s love is terrible, in a way.  Think of all it includes.”  I have often been asked, “Could God not have forgiven people without going through the pain and the violence of the Cross?”  As nice as that sounds, reality forces me to ask: When is forgiveness not painful?  True forgiveness cannot occur unless the hurt is acknowledged and called for what it is.  When you look a wrong full in the face but choose to accept the hurt instead of returning it on the one who did it, that is always painful.
Jesus illustrates forgiveness by telling the story of a servant who owes his master more money than he could possibly repay (See Matthew 18:21-35).  The master originally threatens to sell the servant’s family and possessions to get some return for the debt, but when the servant begs for mercy, the master is gracious and forgives the debt.  Yet the same servant not only refuses to forgive the debt of his fellow servant, but also has him thrown in prison as punishment.

Sometimes we treat forgiveness and justice as though they are mutually exclusive.  If we choose the way of justice, we think the options are reparations or retribution—either the guilty person makes up for a wrong or is punished for it.  These are the only options the servant offered his debtor.  Since the second servant could not repay, he was then punished.  However, the master chose the way of mercy when he forgave the debt, neither requiring reparation nor inflicting retribution.  If God has really forgiven us like the master forgave the servant, we ask, then why all the pain and death of the Cross?  Does the Cross undermine God’s mercy?  Is it merely an underhanded way for God to force repayment from humanity or exact punishment on us?

In asking these questions, we betray a misunderstanding of both justice and forgiveness.  Justice can never be achieved by reparation or retribution alone because like the servants’ debts, true wrongs can never be repaid.  The hurt and pain caused are not reversible.  Punishing the guilty person does not undo the hurt either, even if it brings brief satisfaction to the victim, just as the first servant did not get his money back simply because the other man was in jail.  Justice must be about much more than balancing out the wrongs of the world.  It must be about making things right, about the kind of restoration that does not reverse the pain, but moves beyond it toward something new.

And just as wrongs cannot be erased by punishment or repayment, they cannot really be erased by simple forgiveness either.  When the master forgives the servant’s debt, the debt does not simply disappear.  The master takes the loss!  He accepts the full brunt of the debt himself.  Similarly, when a person forgives, he or she accepts the full brunt of the hurt or injustice rather than returning it on the one who caused it.  Although it is painful, this is the way that healing and restoration begin.  This is why there is no way to avoid the bloody Cross.  And this is why God’s love is terrible.  Think of what it includes: us, with our best and our worst, with our failed attempts and outright cruelty, with our wrong motives for right actions and our right motives for wrong actions... us, with the mess we have made of the world, with our brokenness and despair, with our rebellions and inadequacies.  We are the ones included in and redeemed by the deep and wide love of God.  Paul is astonished by this reality when he emphasizes that Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8)!
Instead of demanding that we pay what we cannot, instead of punishing us for not paying what we cannot, the God we see in Jesus Christ accepts the loss himself and opens his arms even to those who would murder him.  The Cross does not represent God’s mercy being tamed by his anger; rather, it demonstrates that God’s mercy is much bigger than we think.  The Cross is a graphic picture of

God’s terrible love.  Think of all it includes.

Copyright (c) 2009 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM)

Rachel Tulloch is a member of the speaking team at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Toronto, Canada.