the apoclypsis in my head

there's a sadness that I get when I think of how Jesus has called us to be a "Wind People", and my Bible Prof. is telling us that the Jordan didn't stand up in a heap, and that the ground was surely not dry, and that the Red Sea was only ankle deep there, anyway, and the miracles of Jesus are simply accelerations of the natural laws of healing... on and on it went at Asbury...

why believe that?

i have a silly way of believing. I'm such a fool...
my worldview is like something out of a Frank Peretti novel.

I actually see myself as a player in a cosmic drama--a warrior in a celestial battle. I see the world as a battlefield, where angels, demons, men, spirits, are in ebb and flow in soterio-theatrical battle, showcasing the Glory of the Love of the Father for his fallen, redeemed children...

i believe in the fire of the Holy Spirit over the heads of the apostles.
I believe in the fires of persecution that they endured as common consequence of the True Faith.
I believe in a worm that does not die, and a fire that is not quenched.

I am dumbfounded that my brethren, better men than I, choose to moderate belief in the very things that sparked the Great Awakening, the Second Great Awakening... moderate it with a wisdom I've never had the money to attend.

I'm amazed that men like Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, John Wesley, William Booth... they are seen by some as simplistic, wooden-headed men whose hearts were in the right place, but lacked the sophistication of mind to refine their theology of hell and the end times out of literal, apocalyptic terms... Their missionary zeal was seen as a keeper, but not the very fuel that drove it...

I am grieved that so many are so easily and so thoroughly relinquishing the fear and passion for souls that the scriptures engender in the childlike hearer.
O church! Repent and believe the words of Jesus. Refresh the joy of your salvation with fear of the fires of hell, again...

believe in seraphim...in many horned beasts...in thrones of crystal and gates of pearl...
believe in wisdom born of fear...of mourning...of humility...of groaning against the flesh...
believe that the wisdom of this age is a filthy rag, promising , but not delivering...

believe in desperation. holy desperation--poverty of Spirit...pouring itself out in holy fear and a life of trembling reverent love for one another, and passion to win the souls of the lost for the Glory of the King of Heaven...

believe in the curse of the lukewarm--that the risen christ who ate fish and walked through walls--who cooked breakfast--that He himself will VOMIT those who are lukewarm in their devotion to him--the undesperate...

pickers and choosers
who reinterpret, reinvent
soften truth with worldly wisdoms
and bed down on the word of god
atop gilt ivory towers
until the Return overtakes them
like a thief in the night
Left Behind, they simply
start bedding down afresh...
they will feed believers to lions
and crucify jesus again...

doom comes upon the sons of the earth
and the prophets and priests
turn in sleep
on temple steps
through pulpit pages
the black wave approaches
christ has bled
the fields are white
awake! awake!
to the joy set before us!
to plunder the mighty
evil king
for the kingdom of hell cannot stand
against us...

the sword of praise
of love
of sacrifice
held aloft
as we despise this world
and give our lives to Christ
in reverent fear
and joyous relief
to us, Grace is worth
the loss of all things
reputation
position
influence
income
security
affluence
health
our lives, crushed petals
seeds planted
seemingly dead
breaking open in life
overcoming the grave
and the powers that once boasted over God.

the call of Jesus, "come and die" makes a poet out of every soul. Systematic words erode in the flow of wind and water that is the Life, the Way, the Truth... Jesus is awakening us again. Everywhere, humble hearts are groping for the faith once handed down. The renunciation of all for Christ, from the heart, bleeding from there into our lives, is coming upon the Church in all her communities.

Love
Love
Love

Believe with the simplicty of children who love the smell of their father and always bury their faces in his garments when he comes home...
In this faith, Grace is amazing.

Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us!
That this mighty God,
of truth and wrath
calls me his child
and bids me come
bury myself in his embrace...

what sweet relief
for the one sick of sin
for the humble and broken
for the lost sheep found

may the older and younger brothers dance in celebration

Luke 15:28"The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him.
But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.
But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'

31" 'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.
But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' "