Tag Archives: Anointing

In The Gap

13 Nov

 

Angel with Censer

“And he stood between the dead and the living;

and the plague was stayed.”     Numbers 16:48

—-

I stand in the summer of my life,

weighing and balancing

yesterday and tomorrow.

—-

I have made a choice,

I have taken my stand

  on the firm foundation of truth.

—-

Yesterday’s worldly decisions haunt and torment me,

calling out from behind the veil of blood,

that separates me from a deadly past.

—-

The Spirit of God allows me to remember,

Burdening my heart for the souls left behind.

My eyes don’t want to see them,

my ears don’t want to hear them,

for what they are,

I once was.

—-

But the Spirit calls me to them,

to pray.

—-

I fill my censer with sweet incense,

   lighting the fragrance from the fire

 of the altar of sacrifice.

—-

I step into the land of giants,

  the essence of God in my hand,

the words of God in my mouth.

—-

My soul trembles, my heart breaks,

as I look into the empty, hollow eyes

of the children.

—-

 Who will help them to choose?

—-

There to the right is the goodness of God.

There is mercy and grace,

peace and rest.

—-

  This is the life I have chosen to share.

There at the left are the quick and simple pleasures,

received at a price,

packaged so elegantly, temptingly, deceivingly.

—-

Snares so easily fallen into.

My prayers cry out,

praying the lost away from temptation.

—-

My testimony gives them hope,

  I am proof that there is a way out.

The fragrance of intercession

strengthens the fire in the censor.

The wings of angels gently move the aroma

through the crowd.

—-

For a moment they turn and look.

For a moment they taste the sweetness of the manna

that is laid before them.

For a moment the lure of sin is stopped.

For some it will only take that one moment

to recognize and follow the truth.

For some it may take two or three glimpses

to birth their testimony.

—-

Yet, for others, it may take moment after moment after moment

to break the generational curses

 that have trapped them on the path of destruction.

—-

There, in the fields of the land of the giants,

I lay down my life,

as a living sacrifice,

  daily standing in the gap,

  between the living and the dead.

—-

There will I stand again tomorrow,

my censer lit,

 my prayers rising up,

as a sweet sacrifice to heaven.

There, in intercession, will I stand,

turning as many eyes as the Spirit can touch,

to the right.

—-

         Believing that every seed planted will root and grow.

 Believing in the resurrecting power,

from death to life,

       that rests in the anointing.

Believing that the eternal plague can be stayed,

     by the strength of my faith.

—-

I can not stop my sacred vigil,

for the fear rests in my soul,

that in any moment of disconcert,

I might miss one child

that might have looked.

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Feel the Anointing?

10 Nov

Anointed Blanket

“But the anointing which ye have received of him abideth in you, and ye need not that any man teach you: but as the same anointing teacheth you of all things, and is truth, and is no lie, and even as it hath taught you, ye shall abide in him.”  1 John 2:27

Have you ever walked into a church and felt the anointing? Have you listened to a song and felt the presence of God flowing over you? Has someone laid hands on your shoulder as you were deep in prayer and felt the power of God shoot straight through you like a charge of electricity? Have you reached out to caress an old worn Bible and felt a tenderness in your hand? Have you ever placed a prayer cloth over your head or around your shoulder and felt a calm pass through you? We all have “God Moments” when there is no doubt about His presence. But, have you ever felt the anointing in the little things?

I’ve been told that people can tell when others are praying for them, it’s the anointing crossing the distances we cannot. The anointing can go into the battlefield with a soldier, into a prison cell, into a hospital room or into a classroom with the person in prayer sits in an office or bedroom miles or countries away.

Recently someone gave me a small knitted blanket with a bag of donations, one I suspect was knitted for a baby boy (it’s blue!). When I touched it I could feel the anointing of loving prayer, likely spoken as each row was knitted. I keep it in my travel bag, what comfort and peace it brings, no matter where I am.

I wonder if we leave that same anointed feeling as we walk through our daily lives. Does the accident victim feel the comfort of the Holy Spirit as we whisper a prayer in passing? Does the stranded motorist feel the angels of protection, placed in prayer, as help is summoned. Does a hurting person feel the hug of God as we fold them in our arms and pray? Does the inmate feel “something” as they open the letters of encouragement mailed off with a seal of prayer? How much do our prayers make a difference?

I can only give as much anointed prayer as I have worked to receive through personal time with God. I can only share the anointing I have been filled with through hours of prayer. How much do I want to give? How much do I want to make a difference? Lord, use ALL of me.

Lord, God, let me never forget that the comfort I can share may be the only moment of peace in a person’s week, month or year. Let me be like that small blue blanket, stitched with love, that still feels like and smells like the anointing of God. Draw me continually into prayer. Amen.

By Linda J. Humes

Written 6-2-2010

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EDEN

8 Oct

Cat in sink

“The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary: he wakeneth morning by morning, he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned.”  Isaiah 50:4

It’s late.  Everyone is finally off to their own rooms, preparing to sleep; some are already successful.  I head for my quiet spot, the master bathroom.  It’s very small, built for usefulness, not flair.  With the door closed, as it will (which is almost), all the lights on and the exhaust fan rattling out the household noises that remain, it is my only refuge.  There I read and write and pray and listen for God.

Before too long a paw reaches under the door and pulls it open enough for one (or more) of my cats to come in.  At first they are content to lap at the water dripping from the faucet, soon curling up in the oval shaped sink, lightly dozing.  Most of the time they wait patiently for me to finish, but on occasion they will try tenaciously to get onto my lap for hugging and petting, sending books and Bibles, pens and paper flying.  Giving in is the best defense, fighting back by trying to chase them off creates a greater distraction than taking a few minutes to love on them.  They so desperately want to please, having no idea that they are in the least bit annoying.  Soon I set them back down, retrieve my papers and books and go back to praying and listening – and hoping once again to be anointed and used by God.

There are times when I’ve wished I could remain there for days at a time, but responsibility calls.  I have spent many wonderful hours there, in communion, not wanting to leave.  Fatigue and worry escape me there – as does time, sometimes putting my night’s sleep at risk.

It’s just a bathroom, with its own white noise and its own bright light, generally shared with several purring cats, waiting contently in the sink – but to me it becomes Eden.  A place where I go to seek the face of God and talk with Him in the cool of the evening.  It’s there that I remember to thank God for the little things that He does to show me His love.

I thank Him, that even in the inner city, without a natural setting to run to, I have a bathroom, big enough to hold one small bookcase and lots of pens and paper.  I thank Him that I have cats who remind me to always take time for a hug and a kind word.  And I thank Him for the understanding that no matter where I am, God will be there to meet me.

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