The Absence of God

It is my choice. I push it not on anyone. I refuse to force feed, manipulate, or pressure any to believe. His gentleness never forces any to receive him. Jesus is the kindest person I have ever met, and if you wish to not believe in Him, you are free to do so.

Christ does not send people to hell, they choose it—freely, of their own accord. Because they desire to live their entire earthly lives without Him, then He gives them what they want. He gives them eternal life without Him. It’s what they’ve insisted on all along, how could He not give them what they have insisted on?

Hell is simply the absence of God. God is love, so hell will harbor no trace of it. Every soul will swim in a festering pool of hate. God is forgiveness, so that will not be found in hell, either. Only anger, regret and bitterness will be companions to the souls who can no longer forgive. God is mercy, so only meanness shall beat upon the souls in hell each day. God is joy, but of course without Him there shall be only weeping and the deepest sorrows to weigh souls down. God is life and beauty so hell is a waste place of death, without trees and growing things, for He’s the one who gives that life.

You see, everything that can be called “good” upon this earth is only here because God still dwells on earth among men. Any kind or loving acts that men do are only done because the Spirit of God still roams this earth and men are under its influence. Jesus is the foundation of this earth and all goodness depends upon Him.

And you are free to believe and follow Him . . . or not. He is Just and gentle and will allow you to do the choosing.

Artwork: Inferno Canto by Gustave Dore

The Song is Rising

At this moment the song is rising. Across this earth different tongues lift up their voice to Him. A remnant knows Him, loves Him, and their knees they bow in loving worship. It is not to nature that they bow; it is not to the spirits of the earth they sing; it is to Him alone. From many nations they arise: First Nation, Native American, African, Chinese; in their native tongues they lift their humble praise.

Christianity is not a white-man’s faith, and yet in the past some Christians have thought it so. They stripped the precious peoples of their costumes, language, and identity in their attempt to Christianize them. I am saddened and ashamed of such a thing. Jesus would never have done it, for He calls us as we are.

But now is different. Now they rise from every corner, true to their selves and unique cultures and they worship Him. Sing on, dear ones! Only you have your sound and we are in need of it. Sing on in the hidden rooms in China, sing on in the mountains of Canada, sing on in the bush of Africa. We are in need of you to play the song.

Artwork: Prayer © 2008 Don Crowley
http://www.doncrowley.com

A Sword By My Side

I do not want just dialogue. Experience alone is not enough. I want the truth imbedded in my soul, the truth that is absolute and unwavering.

Endless debates and conversations that refuse to answer direct questions cannot feed hungry souls. But truth does.

I want Jesus. I want His word, simple and strong, like a sword by my side. There is rest in the hush of evening, there is rest when His truth lays beside me, and in His presence there is peace.

Artwork: The Valkyrie's Vigil by Edward Robert Hughes

Out Into the Invisible

Dearest Father, for so you are to me, a father like no earthly one. A God who’s bigger than the universe, whose love is deeper than the ocean’s depth, whose knowledge reaches to the stars in the heavens. My soul overflows with you. You!

It is a comforting thing to know a God immortal, eternal, when we live in a world of such transience. You are rooted down and anchored strong and nothing shakes you. And I know you! How blessed I am to be able to say such a thing. I know the living God, the One who uses the earth as His footstool. He is my friend, my dear Beloved. I wish everyone could boast on such a thing. Intimately I have heard your voice and desperately I pursue your Presence.

I am a God chaser. My spirit strains to see out into the invisible where you are. Surround me more with you, for I'll not be content unless you do.

Artwork: Yseult by Frank Dicksee

A Curse Word on the Tongues of Men

I will speak the truth. I’ll not be afraid to continue speaking of the only name that men can call upon—Jesus. The only name that heals, that saves, that wraps round our hearts and holds us tightly as a loving father does his child.

The world cares not to hear that name. They never have. They close their ears and harden hearts to his gentle call. That lovely, powerful name brings fear. That name beloved in the heavens, that angels love to speak, is a curse word on the tongues of men.

There is a reason that particular name was chosen for such a degrading thing. There is a reason they feel a need to close their ears and run from it. Because He is the truth and they cannot get away from it. Their conscience does not allow them this, for it nags them that He is real . . . He is God . . . there is more to life than what we see . . . Oh, yes, they cannot get away from it. No matter how far they run.

Artwork: Hetty Sorrell by John Collier

A Phenomenal Imaginer

What a truly wonderful thing imagination is. God was kind to give us such a gift, a gift like His. He imagined the world into being. He imagined the colors of the flowers and the height of the trees. What a phenomenal imaginer is God. From His thoughts sprang the concept of water and earth and seeds that grow from them. And in His kindness He allowed us to share in this gift of imagination, so that we could imagine works of art and technical wonders, cures for diseases and inspired symphonies.

But man has digressed from the path of creativity. He now creates ugliness not beauty. And it is foul, perverse things that he often sets his imagination upon. Imagination was never meant for such use. Beauty was supposed to be born from man’s mind. Grace-filled, lovely and useful things were meant to come from his imagination. For that is how we were created. Oh, woe to us who have fallen! We are a sad race that has forgotten the wondrous beauty for which we were made.

Artwork: Toillette de Nature by Pinckney Marcius-Simons

Slogging Through the Mire

Sin is real. We are born with it rooted in our soul. We carry it through our lives and, without Christ, we die with it dragging us down into the depths. Our lives are colored by it, tempered by it, destroyed by it, falsely exalted by it, and in every shape and form deceived by it.

Our very natures create a fresh, new wave of sin each and every day. What ridiculous beings we are to slop around through the thick of sin and insist that we are good, clean, decent people who deserve to go to heaven because of our seeming “goodness”; all the while we ignore the mud dripping from our guilty faces.

But God looks down and sees through the mud. He sees what we can become through the cleansing of His own Son’s blood. He sees what we were meant to be and longs for us to see the same. Wipe the dirt from your eyes and see the truth of it! If only we would get tired of slogging through the mire. There is hope yet.

Artwork: The Pool by Walter Crane