Anything of worth, any value-added experience, costs us something. Our lives are configured on such a premise. If something is worthwhile it will require effort, demand sacrifice and call for courage.
Life is worthwhile. To live it successfully one must be prepared to invest heavily with the currencies of courage, sacrifice and effort. Jesus Christ was no different. During His earthly sojourn He invested, not just heavily, but totally in the Father’s plan to reconcile mankind to Himself.
Jesus’ journey was not one of smooth-sailing, straight roads and challenges with all the resistance-potential of morning mist. He got angry, He knew fear, He was tempted to quit, frustration with friends became predictable, even family could be bothersome.
For every challenge, ahead of each opportunity, in the wake of all reversals, Jesus was called upon to make decisions. The responsibility of decision-making is not one that we all readily embrace. Decisions are a marker, a standing stone, if you will, that indicate the certain end of something and the beginning of something else. That something else can be what we want, what we need or what is necessary. On the other hand, a lack of moral fortitude, i.e. the desire to not make a decision, will usher in a season, a circumstance, an experience of what we do not want or require. Active and positive decision-making will bring the ultimately profitable. A shying away from a decision of any sort will birth only that which is negative, needlessly costly and a sapping of strength, standards and significance.
As a disciple of Jesus Christ, I have a record of making at least one decision – the decision to serve Him wholly. If I can make one decision, it stands to reason that I can make another, then another and then...
Your life will stand still without your having the intestinal fortitude (i.e. guts) to make a decision one way or another. To be a Christ-centred person is to be a man or woman who will face challenges, adversity and opportunity with a steely determination that comes from allowing Him who is central to live in us.
Jesus Christ will not make the decisions for you, but He will guide you in making them and walk with you through the subsequent consequences of that choice. No decision can be made without considering the cost. Any worthwhile goal will cost.
Jesus made the decision to go to Calvary and all that that entailed. In the Garden of Gethsemane He shuddered with fear and, for a moment, almost lost His footing. Yet as quickly as fear came in, He let His decision to proceed be lifted up as a standard against terror and uncertainty. The pain was still real, the fear palpable, but His decision was incapable of deflection or defeat, no matter what He was going through.
Be encouraged, reader, whoever you are. Your courage to make a decision to stay or to go, partake or ignore, accept or reject, will determine the quality of your life for years to come. You are under no obligation to stay in a place of abuse. Misery is not your lot. Defeat, lack and depression are imposters whose right to remain has been determined by your lack of decision-making.
I do not know who I am writing this for, but someone out there needs to see these truths and act upon them. We may never meet but that is not the issue. Just do what is right, make the stand, choose the direction and embrace the challenge. Victory will follow.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Temple visit
As the sun overcame the dawn resistance of the mountainous horizon, I was ushered by an unseen but gently firm hand towards a temple. The building looked almost imposing but I was unable to compare it with any others as no others were in sight - they were there, to be sure, but not in sight – as if comparing were not permitted.
I climbed the broad shallow steps towards the doors and caught sight of the windows high up and on either side of the impressive entrance way. They were beautifully coloured and spotlessly clean. On closer inspection I saw that some were cracked and one even had a hole in it. The doors were strong and well-maintained. The varnished sheen reflected the early morning rays and the handles shone as if recently polished. I pushed on the handles and, at first, nothing happened; then suddenly, there was a crack as under-used hinges were released from the grip of corrosion. This temple, while beautiful on the outside, albeit with the odd bit of damage, evidently saw very little traffic inside.
As the open doors let in the early morning light, I saw that there were lamps already lit, although many, particularly further in, had not been asked to perform their duty for some time, if ever. The lamps were of gold and their transparent panels were spotless and seemed to aid the light in its quest to illuminate all around it. Where the lamps remained unlit, there were snuffed out candles on the floor beneath - the sort one could buy at any store outside - as if the one visiting here had preferred to use their own purchased candles because they did not have the energy or will to light the much more effective, already existing, purpose-built lamps.
Although the dawn light was weak and the lamps did their best, darkness was in no way in control. There was light but its source was unseen. In fact, source is the wrong word as it would seem to indicate that the light was coming from somewhere. In this case, that was not so - it was just there.
The interior was beautifully clean. Not a smear of dirt anywhere. There was no accumulated grime, no piles of abandoned clutter. The rich wall-hangings breathed-out the sumptuousness of a royal palace, a home of kings. The banners that hung suspended from rich wooden beams declared hope and victory, strength and resolve. This temple exuded life in every one of its positive and fruitful dimensions. This place was of the present and the future. The past seemed to have no place here.
In fact, it would seem that this temple had no history at all except that it was under-used. This lack of expressed living was evidenced by, here and there, small piles of dust which were mysteriously not dirty in any way. The little piles indicated that an attempt at collecting the dust had been undertaken but the visitor had failed to sweep them up. In fact, these little lines and piles of shepherded dust were quite irritating. The dust was just inside the door about halfway to the centre of the room. There was no evidence of anyone going any further. It seemed such a waste as the further reaches of the interior beckoned with an offer of an other-wordly adventure. The dust would not cause the destruction of the temple. It was not even able to diminish the quality, presence or purpose of the place, but was in some way evidence of an unwillingness to go further.
The farthest corners of the interior were not dark, despite the lack of lamplight, just seemingly unexplored. It was not a darkness that hung there - just an air of not knowing. They had the look of areas that no one had ever visited. No adventure had ever been undertaken there. There was no sense of foreboding, no evidence of threat - only an inaudible voice calling for the visitor to go in further.
The room was empty to the natural eye and silent to the created ear, and yet somehow full and abounding in activity. The air was sweet, pleasantly so, excluding the possibility of anything profane, anything threatening. No death or decay could exist here. The atmosphere was pure but somehow faintly echoed a time when it was not so. There was no tangible evidence for the change, just an inner knowing that something extraordinary had taken place here.
The interior was full of knowing, not mere knowledge, but a knowing that comes only by experience. I could not think negatively in that place. Even the dangers and conflicts I would face outside could not change the atmosphere of peace in there.
Then I saw it - I had all but missed it. As I turned to go, a table set for four appeared in the corner of my eye. Three of the chairs were large, golden and encrusted with all manner of jewels. The fourth was a little smaller and it was made of silver with eight perfectly crafted jewels worked into the frame. The table was of glass, but not the fault-filled product of this world, but a glass that was as clear as crystal.
On the table were only one plate and one goblet from which to partake. The table and chairs, I am almost convinced, were urging me to come, sit and partake. I felt as if I had the right. I was convinced that I should. I even knew within myself that should I take that fourth seat, the Three Hosts would appear. But I did not.
The world outside raised its voice and demanded my attention. It was as if unseen hands on unimaginably long arms reached over the threshold to pull me away. I surrendered weakly and went.
As I went down the steps on the outside, it was as if the entire building sighed. I was sure I could hear voices within, not angry, not sad; in fact, I am not sure what emotion was being expressed - I just felt so loved, so wanted, so desired - yet, for today at least, so out of reach.
In order to really understand the allegory above it would be helpful to read the following Scriptures and the definitions of the following symbolic numbers and elements.
I Corinthians 3:16; II Corinthians 10:12 Revelation 3:20; John 14:23.
Gold = Holiness, purity.
Silver = Redemption, redeemed.
The number 8 = Resurrection, new beginnings.
I climbed the broad shallow steps towards the doors and caught sight of the windows high up and on either side of the impressive entrance way. They were beautifully coloured and spotlessly clean. On closer inspection I saw that some were cracked and one even had a hole in it. The doors were strong and well-maintained. The varnished sheen reflected the early morning rays and the handles shone as if recently polished. I pushed on the handles and, at first, nothing happened; then suddenly, there was a crack as under-used hinges were released from the grip of corrosion. This temple, while beautiful on the outside, albeit with the odd bit of damage, evidently saw very little traffic inside.
As the open doors let in the early morning light, I saw that there were lamps already lit, although many, particularly further in, had not been asked to perform their duty for some time, if ever. The lamps were of gold and their transparent panels were spotless and seemed to aid the light in its quest to illuminate all around it. Where the lamps remained unlit, there were snuffed out candles on the floor beneath - the sort one could buy at any store outside - as if the one visiting here had preferred to use their own purchased candles because they did not have the energy or will to light the much more effective, already existing, purpose-built lamps.
Although the dawn light was weak and the lamps did their best, darkness was in no way in control. There was light but its source was unseen. In fact, source is the wrong word as it would seem to indicate that the light was coming from somewhere. In this case, that was not so - it was just there.
The interior was beautifully clean. Not a smear of dirt anywhere. There was no accumulated grime, no piles of abandoned clutter. The rich wall-hangings breathed-out the sumptuousness of a royal palace, a home of kings. The banners that hung suspended from rich wooden beams declared hope and victory, strength and resolve. This temple exuded life in every one of its positive and fruitful dimensions. This place was of the present and the future. The past seemed to have no place here.
In fact, it would seem that this temple had no history at all except that it was under-used. This lack of expressed living was evidenced by, here and there, small piles of dust which were mysteriously not dirty in any way. The little piles indicated that an attempt at collecting the dust had been undertaken but the visitor had failed to sweep them up. In fact, these little lines and piles of shepherded dust were quite irritating. The dust was just inside the door about halfway to the centre of the room. There was no evidence of anyone going any further. It seemed such a waste as the further reaches of the interior beckoned with an offer of an other-wordly adventure. The dust would not cause the destruction of the temple. It was not even able to diminish the quality, presence or purpose of the place, but was in some way evidence of an unwillingness to go further.
The farthest corners of the interior were not dark, despite the lack of lamplight, just seemingly unexplored. It was not a darkness that hung there - just an air of not knowing. They had the look of areas that no one had ever visited. No adventure had ever been undertaken there. There was no sense of foreboding, no evidence of threat - only an inaudible voice calling for the visitor to go in further.
The room was empty to the natural eye and silent to the created ear, and yet somehow full and abounding in activity. The air was sweet, pleasantly so, excluding the possibility of anything profane, anything threatening. No death or decay could exist here. The atmosphere was pure but somehow faintly echoed a time when it was not so. There was no tangible evidence for the change, just an inner knowing that something extraordinary had taken place here.
The interior was full of knowing, not mere knowledge, but a knowing that comes only by experience. I could not think negatively in that place. Even the dangers and conflicts I would face outside could not change the atmosphere of peace in there.
Then I saw it - I had all but missed it. As I turned to go, a table set for four appeared in the corner of my eye. Three of the chairs were large, golden and encrusted with all manner of jewels. The fourth was a little smaller and it was made of silver with eight perfectly crafted jewels worked into the frame. The table was of glass, but not the fault-filled product of this world, but a glass that was as clear as crystal.
On the table were only one plate and one goblet from which to partake. The table and chairs, I am almost convinced, were urging me to come, sit and partake. I felt as if I had the right. I was convinced that I should. I even knew within myself that should I take that fourth seat, the Three Hosts would appear. But I did not.
The world outside raised its voice and demanded my attention. It was as if unseen hands on unimaginably long arms reached over the threshold to pull me away. I surrendered weakly and went.
As I went down the steps on the outside, it was as if the entire building sighed. I was sure I could hear voices within, not angry, not sad; in fact, I am not sure what emotion was being expressed - I just felt so loved, so wanted, so desired - yet, for today at least, so out of reach.
In order to really understand the allegory above it would be helpful to read the following Scriptures and the definitions of the following symbolic numbers and elements.
I Corinthians 3:16; II Corinthians 10:12 Revelation 3:20; John 14:23.
Gold = Holiness, purity.
Silver = Redemption, redeemed.
The number 8 = Resurrection, new beginnings.
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