“Believing is touching the sky with outstretched hands . . .
knowing you are caressing the face of God!”
Written 8/14/12
STONES OF FIRE
28 Jul
When I heard of the Stones of Fire I prayed, “Lord, what are they?”
He said, “They are the tears of God.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, “teach me, Lord.”
Stones of fire,
colors so vibrant,
the intensity of God’s Spirit,
fighting to escape the stone’s housing,
yet trapped there,
to please the eye,
of all who gaze.
He placed His throne,
and rested his feet,
upon brilliant Sapphire,
purged with fire and time,
blue as the deepest sea,
vast as the clearest sky;
this was the third Heaven.
As a lover gives his beloved,
or a father gives his child,
a most precious gift,
God gave His treasure,
a city built upon,
the stones of fire.
In His richness He gave all beauty,
to make a sacred court.
The foundations of the city,
were of the purest stone,
of Jasper, Sapphire and Chalcedony,
Emerald, Sardonyx and Sardius,
Chrysolite, Beryl and Topaz,
Chrysoprasus, Jacinth and Amethyst.
Twelve foundations,
for twelve children to come,
soon to be nations,
then kings and priests.
Children to be raised,
in a perfect Eden,
guarded by angels,
perfection at every glance,
ruler of all they could see.
Yet, in the third Heaven,
where archangels commune with God,
and gold paves the streets,
as pure as crystal glass,
a cry was heard,
as God shed a tear.
The third Heaven wasn’t enough,
for Lucifer.
He was the most perfect creation,
to ever walk in the Heavens of God.
He was the most beautiful of all angels,
adorned in the precious stones,
that Heaven was founded on.
His voice sang the arias,
as an orchestra,
he was the most anointed,
the most wise,
until his beauty,
beguiled his own heart,
and iniquity became his god.
Refusing to serve,
demanding the highest kingdom,
Lucifer fell,
cast from the splendor of Heaven,
pulled down by the weight,
cursed with the fire,
that charged the beauty,
of the precious stones,
he proudly wore.
Down in a wilderness,
walked 12 nations,
trying to purge their lives,
of desire and deceit.
Set over an Ephod,
secured to the Breastplate,
carried on the shoulders,
of the High Priest,
were 12 stones.
Each stone for a nation,
in four rows of three,
according to their birth.
On the top was the Sardius, Topaz and Carbuncle,
then was the Emerald, Sapphire and Diamond,
next was the Ligure, Agate and Amethyst,
last was the Beryl, Onyx and Jasper,
held at the top and the sides,
by pure gold.
Once again God’s pride,
was adorned by His precious gift.
All seemed well until the days,
man’s faith-filled leader,
took time with God.
And in their time,
of precious communion,
the Ephod was laid aside,
as the nations of promise,
build a golden glistening calf,
they could see.
Moses heard the cry,
as God shed a tear.
Jealousy raged,
in the vibrant foundations,
of Heaven.
And Moses cried out,
for the souls of the lost,
as iniquity reigned once again,
in the earth.
Stones of fire,
shown again,
in the crowns of the kings,
that ruled over the nations.
Crowns of the righteous,
killed by the crowns of the wicked,
coveting the beauty,
of the precious glowing stones.
Then, in that last day,
as the Mystery Babylon,
walks the corrupted streets,
of earth,
no one will buy her merchandise.
Not the gold or silver,
precious stones or fine linen,
not the horses, chariots or slaves,
not the souls of men.
Finally the nations will see,
that the soul cannot share,
the beauty meant for the eye.
Beauty meant to be enjoyed,
to enhance,
to appreciate.
The stones of fire,
a wedding gift,
from the God of creation,
changed into a god,
by the lusts of man.
Gazing on their fiery beauty,
we wonder at the value,
the prestige,
and forget the covenant of love,
for which they stand.
The birth of a child,
the birth of a nation,
a covenant of love,
sealed by the signet,
of a fiery stone.
A marriage of two people,
two nations,
two entities;
destined to find perfection,
in the confines of Heaven.
So they wait,
undefiled,
in the third Heaven,
where angels and cherubim,
commune with,
the one true God.
Written 12/6/98
Stolen Peace
14 Jul
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Isaiah 26:3 (KJV)
Not long ago an event shook our quiet little town. It was an event that made national news and turned a happy community into a place of fear.
My husband and I were visiting our oldest son in a town 8 hours away, and for the first time, left our 18 and 20 year old boys at home by themselves. The next evening my cell phone didn’t stop ringing and texting; a motorcycle gang war had broken out and my property was involved in the melee.
My youngest son and his friend had just stepped into the front yard when the shooting started and they saw 2 people shot in front of them. They ran back into the house and saw a vehicle park in our driveway with 4 men inside, assault rifles exposed when they opened all the doors. They saw one man in our backyard. The police dispatcher told him to sit on the floor of a room with no windows, put a shotgun across his legs and if they come in . . . shoot! My son was terrified, I was terrified; we were both helpless.
After the shooting stopped the police arrived and the kids were told to lock up and leave the area. Helicopters and dozens of police vehicles were all through the area. Calls came from friends who knew where we lived and offered to take in the boys.
By the time we arrived home we were permitted to go into our house. Police cars and command posts remained for days. We called the police to come to the house when we found a bullet lodged in a lamp on our porch. The police took pictures and told us to be prepared . . . the war wasn’t over.
The feeling of physical helplessness flowed into my emotional and spiritual life. What if it happened again and I wasn’t home to protect my kids. What if no one was there and our animals were shot. What if . . .
Driving around town I noticed something that I’d never noticed before; guns. An elderly man was raking the rocks in his driveway with a gun on his hip. A white haired elderly woman stood in the grocery check-out line with a gun on her waist. Every motorcycle rider I saw had a gun strapped on. Someone came to our home to pick up a refrigerator, with a gun on his belt. We had a yard sale and those who came had guns strapped on. Fear had permeated Chino Valley.
I couldn’t sleep; thrashing all night. Every time I left the house I locked every door and was uneasy until I returned. My prayers seemed hollow. Our home had been on the market and we were told to take it off because no one would consider buying in our area for years. Helpless. Overwhelmed. Fearful.
As I prayed one evening I told God that my whole life seemed out of control. I asked what was wrong, what could I do. He spoke to me and quietly said that I’d let the war steal my peace.
I thought about all that had happened. 50 shell casings were found, but not one innocent person had been harmed. Not one animal in the neighboring homes had been harmed. 60 people had been arrested. Gang homes were ordered sold by the court. Gang awareness was clear in the community and people were prepared to fight back. God had His hand on Chino Valley and everything surrounding it.
God forgive me for forgetting that even when it seems like chaos all around, You are there. When nothing seems to make sense You reveal the big picture and Your perfect will. Thank You for not giving up on this worrier, but bringing perfect peace and rest.
Written 10-25-2010
PARADISE
14 Jul
“And I heard a great voice out of Heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.” Rev. 21:3
Recently I’ve been making weekly overnight trips for work. I drive 3 hours in, work 8 and then off to rest. A friend has arranged for me to use her guesthouse on these trips, what a blessing. This house is perfectly decorated, country comfortable. Everything perfectly matches, from the curtains to the coffee cups. It’s like walking into a paradise in the midst of a big bustling city.
You can see the love and care spent in providing every comfort, from aesthetics to bed pillows. Drinking glasses are perfectly lined. Plates and bowls set in order. Every utensil is in its assigned spot. Pictures of things that take you to a different place and time are placed just so, giving the feeling of home. It’s just exactly what I’ve always hoped to have.
I ate my take-out meal and headed for the luxury of a bubble bath, a precious commodity for any working mom. Off I slipped to bed for a completely undisturbed sleep. AAAAHHHH!!!!
I woke early and brewed my morning coffee. I sipped and listened for the signs and sounds of morning. I had no idea that silence could be so loud.
There were no roosters crowing, no husband snoring, no dogs harmonizing. There were no shoes to step over, no children squabbling over the bathroom, no cat curled in my spot on the sofa. There was no peanut butter on the counter, no jelly on the floor sticking to the bottom of my feet. The radios weren’t playing and the washing machine wasn’t running. There were no sounds of life. No laughter, no anger – no joy, no frustration. It was a beautiful, empty shell.
I packed up all my traveling gear and prepared to leave. I went back through, room by room, to make sure I’d left this paradise in the same condition as when I’d arrived. Picture perfect!
Picture perfect! Hhhhmmm? Isn’t that what we can be? We walk out of our homes perfectly attired; matching outfit, shoes and accessories – carefully primped and combed, not a hair out of place. We even spray our favorite fragrance to make a perfectly, well-rounded picture of – of what?
So often we see people who seem so perfect on the outside, but inside they are going mad with the echoes of silence. Some are tortured by the voices of the past, some by the enemy of their souls, telling them to give up their future – they’ll never be “perfect” enough. They overcompensate with exterior perfection to try to fill the hole left inside – by the absence of Jesus.
How many times do we walk past those who seem to have it “all together” and reach out to those in obvious need? How many of those “perfect people” long for someone to stop long enough to tell them how to fill their emptiness? Do we only look at the outward perfection and miss the eyes that search for answers? Do we share a greeting and not listen for the cries of help in their passing replies?
Jesus, help me to hear those cries. Help me to see the emptiness you are ready to fill. Let me never assume that a perfect house equals a home – but that every vessel created by You can only be perfected when Your Holy Spirit fills it. Come Lord Jesus.
Written 8-31-05
LADY IN WAITING
14 JulI’m resting, Lord, here in Your shadow. Wars wage at my right, and along my left. Famine and failure, torture, even the most strong fear, but I’m safe here, beneath Your wing. I know the paths around me, are tainted with sin, that dangers lurk, at every turn, but I fear not. You, Lord, have sent angels, to guide my path, to set my feet, one in front of the other, straight ahead, not to the right, not to the left. I have placed my feet, in faith, knowing You have set, a safe path, before me. I have listened carefully, for Your call, I have trimmed the wicks, and replenished the oil, for the night watch. For the time when, My Beloved may call. I practice my stitching, in purple and red, as I wait. Keeping my mind flooded, with the constant blessing, my Lord has bestowed, upon me. Delicate, sure, stitches, adorn the robe, my Lord will wear, when the day is come. Each placed with a prayer, each outlining a blessing, each anointed, with the tongues of angels. I wait at Your feet, precious one, as the night passes once again. Catching a glimpse of You, a glancing touch, bringing such peace, strengthening my desire. I wait, with the gifts of my hand, gifts of my heart, gifts of my tongue. I wait, for the day You will call, and draw me to Your chamber, to share in the riches, kept deep inside. The wait seems long, but holds no burden, only the treasure, of promises seen, and promises known, and truths only realized, by lovers. I wait for the day, You will come to my chamber, and raise my hand, to a delicate kiss. There will we dance, for the joy, and the treasure, held in intimate bonds, of true love. Until that day, My Beloved, My Lord, I will wait, and prepare, and rest, that I might not miss, one moment with You. Written 4-22-99
INFERNO
7 Jul
That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ: -1 Peter 1:7
Here I stand, Safe in the hand of God, Kissed by a gentle breeze, Cooled by the living water, Of the Spirit. All around me rages an inferno, To my right, to my left, Directly in my path. The bowels of hell, Threatening death, Always testing my faith, But held away, By my closest friend, my savior. Here I stand, And here I will stay, Until I hear the voice of God, Directing my steps, To reach the lost, With His precious love.
Written 11-10-2000
COMPASSION
7 Jul
“But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” -Mark 10:14
Tonight I saw something that deeply touched my heart. Not a well scripted show or a thought-out story. Tonight I witnessed two very young boys praying, sobbing and interceding for their friend – hands lifted upward toward Heaven. Even after the music ceased they remained, praying – sobbing. When the sanctuary had emptied and the time threatened, they remained. At that moment I believe a pastor was born, an evangelist, perhaps an apostle. Compassion was loosed and the anointing fell. The true tenderness of innocence released a pureness – no show, no pressure, no guilt drove their motives – just compassion – a Spirit lead appointment with Jesus.
How many times have we adults seen the hurting at the altar, but pulled away because of schedules and pre-set agendas. How many times have we been in serious prayer, only to turn it off as a household appliance when the music ceased? How many times did we seem sincerely concerned, as long as certain eyes lingered our way, hoping for a break and release with each prayer.
I stood outside and watched as they left the tabernacle, headed for their camp dorm rooms; bibles familiarly under their arms, pages worn, bookmarks poking out here and there. Arm in arm they headed away, eyes still red, but a prominent glow surrounded them. I thanked God for that touch, for that innocence.
Still, I was ashamed. Ashamed that these young boys had a relationship with My God that I so desired and a compassion for others that I strove for, but had not yet found.
Thank you Jesus for that glimpse into a perfect moment dedicated completely to You. Bless them Lord, for touching Your face unhesitatingly. Lord, help me to meet the challenge.
Written 6-24-2004
A SINGLE MOMENT OF PRAYER
7 JulGiving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ; Ephesians 5:20 I look out into a world, of drugs, alcohol and murder. Fear grips my heart, there is no avenue of safety. What to do, Lord? A silent prayer, eyes closed to the dangers at hand. A cool breeze flows, born in the rising of angel’s wings. Sweet music, somewhere distant, ripples closer, from the depths of my soul. Whispering, Sweet Jesus, floating above the circumstance. A strengthening rises, as the Spirit renews it supreme peace. I gaze out again, at what the enemy has wrought. Fear has faded to compassion, terror gave way to love. Only the tears remain, knowing that so many will never understand, the indescribable power of a single moment of prayer. ------- Written 5/16/95 By Linda J. Humes From Moments With The Master
New Life
30 Jun
That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ: 1 Peter 1:7 (KJV)
Recently a fire broke out between the north and southbound lanes of the main highway through Arizona. The fire had traveled a good mile and had jumped the freeway (2 lanes wide) on both the east and west sides of the freeway. As I passed through, the smoke still lingered and firefighters were walking through with shovels and pick axes to be sure the smoldering embers didn’t reignite.
Each week the remainder of the all-consuming properties of fire played in my mind . . . except for that one green bush about a third of the way in from the south, just sitting there, green and untouched. About a month after the fire the rains came and a most amazing thing happened; in the middle of the charred blackness sprouted small green leaves. Out of darkness came life.
Like our deadness, our pain, and our sin, when the Holy Spirit sprinkles us with the water from the river of life, we sprout and grow new life. We become like the tree planted by the waters, bringing forth shade and good fruit.
As satan sends forth his fires of destruction, God’s children walk across the blackness sipping the water that will make them thirst no more. As their heels lift from the ash strewn, blackened ground, tiny leaves sprout up in its shadow, before the next step is even taken; soon to provide good fruit.
Lord, let us never be afraid to speak Your refreshing Word to a dry and thirsty world.
Written 12-29-09
By Linda J. Humes
Jerusalem Lieth Waste
30 Jun
Nehemiah 1 – 2 – 3
Jerusalem lieth waste,
Her children are scattered,
Her children’s children wander aimlessly,
Searching for any sign of hope.
The fountains have lost their beauty,
The waters are bitter.
The walls of the city have no gates,
Where the gates once were, there are no doors,
All have fallen away,
None have taken the time to restore and repair.
Into the valley they travel,
Past the dunghill, the remnant of past life,
Past the pool where the animals find rest.
Between two mountains they are tossed about,
A mountain of good, secure but foreign;
A mountain of evil, exciting and lurid.
In the valley they wait,
Walking to and fro, from mountain to mountain,
Tasting of the ambiance of each,
Looking for one who will care enough,
To restore them.
At the walls stand a handful of Saints,
Each trying to decide whether to help,
Or to let others live as they will.
Should they reach out to another’s child,
Chance the rebuke and scorn,
Can they make a difference,
Or become a passing trend,
Soon forgotten.
Rebuilding the walls will take so much time,
Establishing the gates difficult,
Placing doors means people to watch them,
People that discern good and evil,
People of integrity that will not compromise.
Jerusalem lieth waste,
Her children’s children have not been taught,
Her children’s children’s wounds have not been tended,
Her children’s children wander aimlessly,
Searching for hope.
A handful of Saints make a decision,
This restoration will take many years,
This restoration will be painful,
This restoration will make a difference,
This restoration will set a standard.
I pick up the first stone and set it in place,
Then another and another,
I hear the laughter and the scorn,
It feeds my intensity.
As the walls strengthen and the doors are set,
The children wander back;
They find security, soundness, protection;
They find safety, boundaries, goals;
They find hope,
They find peace.
Written 2-7-2001
Linda J. Humes 