Tag Archives: Blood

Grafted

29 Mar

It was a deep wound,

Intended to bring death,
Inflicted by the spear,
Of a Roman Soldier.

Gaping open,
It released blood and water.
The blood of the new covenant,
The water of the Holy Spirit,
Yet to come.

The precious liquids,
Oozing to the surface,
Were the precious nutrients,
To give food and strength,
To the nation to come.

Inside that wound,
Deep in the side of my Savior,
The wound Satan meant for evil,
God planted a seed,
A bud,
A grafted nation,
A place for me.

That wound,
And the seed inside,
Were anointed with myrrh,
With aloes, and with spices.
Wrapped so carefully,
With the finest linen,
Preparing a cleft,
Of most Holy foundation,
For the Gentile to join,
God’s chosen.

Then came the moment,
When the linens were left,
In the shape of a man,
But hollow and unaltered,
As a message of release.

The moment when Christ,
With the grafted children,
Tucked safely beneath his arm,
Faced Satan and conquered death.

Now this nation,
Birthed in the side of Christ,
As Eve was birthed,
In the side of Adam,
Sat in communion,
At the right hand of God.

Guided forth,
Performing greater miracles,
Exhibiting greater power,
Flowing in the Holy Spirit,
The seed branched forward.

Inside that graft,
With its roots entwined,
Deep into the Master,
There is a leaf,
Turning to the Son,
Preparing to break forth,
And follow the way,
Set forth by Him.

It’s just one leaf,
Of the many branches,
Just one small part,
Of a mighty tree.
But on that leaf,
Is a name,
And that name belongs,
To ME.

olive-branch

Written 3-9-1999

By Linda J Humes

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BLOOD ON ANGEL’S WINGS

12 Sep

Blood on Angel's wings

Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels? Matthew 26:53 (KJV)

We have a big beautiful porch on the front of our home.  It faces south and it’s a beautiful view down into the valley.  When weather permits, I have my devotional and Bible Study time in my rocker, out on the porch. I thank God every day for allowing me to live there and enjoy the beauty set before me.

Last year we noticed the wood railing was showing signs of sun and rain wear – it was time to stain and water-seal the wood.  Out we went, the two youngest boys and I – gloves, rags, newspapers, paintbrushes and stain.  We each took a section and went to task.  Stain was flying everywhere.  I tried to convince them to keep the stain off the concrete floor – well!!

It seemed like it took forever, and the stained concrete will probably fade away with age.  It looked so much nicer.

A week or so later, during devotional time, I noticed something on one of my 3’ angels that stood in the flowerbed by the porch.  I walked up to get a better view and it took my breath away.  A careless sling of a brush had splashed the angel with what looked like large drops of blood.  “Jesus, Your Blood.”

My mind went back to that fateful day, when my Lord hung on the cross.  His blood pouring from His head, His back, His sides, His hands and His feet.  Were there angels at the foot of His cross?  Did they wait, hoping that the Father would speak and stop what was about to happen as he did with Abraham and Isaac?  Did they encamp around Him to be sure the will of the Father was done – weeping with sadness at the pain and torture of the Son?  Did His blood drip down on their wings as they waited for those final words, “It is finished?”  Did they carry His Spirit to Heaven when the earth shook and the sky darkened?  Did the Blood turn to Oil as they moved between the Heavens?

I know that angels encamp around us every day; watching, protecting, guiding.  They are one of the wonderful gifts God surrounds us with.  They comfort us, wrapping their arms around us when we cry.  When we celebrate with joy, they dance along with us.  They sit and watch over us when we are ill.  They wait for a Word from the Father.

I wonder, did one of the angels that guides me every day – kneel at the foot of the cross?

Written by Linda J. Humes

8-4-2008

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Saved Through Faith

20 Aug

by grace

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:  Not of works, lest any man should boast.”  Ephesians 2:8-9 (KJV)

So many thoughts cross my mind when I read these scriptures.  Things like “there’s no such thing as a free lunch,” or “you never get something for nothing,” and even “you are no more a Christian because you sit in a church, than you are a cow because you stand in a barn.”

Over the years I have seen person after person come into the church and give all they physically have, but never find the true gift, the relationship with God.  I think that we have been “programmed” by the American culture to believe that if we work hard and “give it all we’ve got” we’ll get whatever we want.  Some have succeeded, many have failed.  But that “programming” does not apply to God’s culture and the plan He has set out for us.

The New Testament makes it very clear that no matter what we have done, said or caused, we have hope through Jesus for an eternal life in Heavenly places (Romans 4:7).  Through repentance and the forgiveness of sins, God wipes our slates clean and we become white and pure as snow (Isaiah 1:18).  We can’t work enough hours to receive that gift.  We can’t feed enough hungry people or clean enough church carpets or share the gospel in enough countries to receive that gift.  We can’t spend enough time in prayer or hours in the scriptures, memorizing – memorizing – memorizing, to earn that gift.  It isn’t possible.  The gift is free.  The gift is from God Himself, His “grace” card (1 Corinthians 1:4).  The gift of salvation is simply received through believing faith (Romans 3:22 & 25).  Faith!  No more, no less.

So, in God’s culture, there is a “free lunch,” eating daily of God’s Word (Matthew 4:4) and feeding the spirit that is growing inside.  In God’s culture, there is “something for nothing, there is grace, and through that grace there is faith, and through that faith there is eternal life in Heavenly places (Ephesians 1:3).

As far as the last quote, that’s a true comment, but with the love and acceptance and example of the saints, people who come seeking will find the true faith they desire.  Everyone starts coming to church as a non-Christian, but finds their way to the free gift of salvation, pre-paid by the Son.  Once we realize it took the blood of a perfect sacrifice (Hebrews 10:14) to bring us that gift, a life freely given on Calvary (1 Corinthians 2:12), how could we even consider boasting.

We are saved by grace through our faith in Christ.  Simple.  Easy.  Priceless.

* A Journey Through Ephesians – Chapter 2, Part 4

Written by Linda J. Humes

11-28-2014

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Dead Through Trespasses

15 Aug

Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil

“And you did he make alive, when ye were dead through your trespasses and sins,” Ephesians 2:1 (ASV)

I was one of those kids who never got into trouble, not because I was born from a different cut of cloth than others, but because of the great fear of what the consequences would be at home if I did.  I remember as a young teen, my mom telling me that if I was ever picked up by the police, not to waste the time calling home, no one would come.

The fear of making a mistake followed me from childhood into adulthood and captured my every thought.  I even entertained the fear of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and being blamed for someone else’s behavior; so I isolated myself.

When I gave my heart to Jesus and heard about the consequences of sin, and that the Bible says that we all sin, I struggled with it.  I had always done my best not to do anything illegal or immoral. These verses brought me great confusion.  I didn’t understand that what the world considered to be sin and what God considered to be sin were 2 very different things, and in all my careful years of watching my behavior, I had let God down.  Even my refusing to believe that I was sinning in some area of my life was a sin in the eyes of God (1 John 1:8).

The scriptures clearly state that we are not to be involved in “quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfishness, backstabbing, gossip, conceit, and disorderly behavior” (Galatians 5:19) – busted!  These behaviors seem to be inborn in us, and we must grow past these practices as teens and young adults.  I had no idea that God considered these “temper tantrum behaviors” to be sins.  I heard a pastor speak about these behaviors, stating that when we listen to gossip, or people backstabbing, or witness outbursts of anger or disorderly conduct, and do nothing to stop it, we are guilty of participating.  If we don’t walk away and refuse to be a part of the conversation, we are guilty of supporting them by our simply being there.  I was guilty of doing nothing.  I was guilty of being party to damaging someone else’s reputation.  I was guilty of sin.

I am so thankful that our loving God gives us a way to restore ourselves (2 Corinthians 12:21).  He gives us the opportunity to repent and ask for forgiveness from the offended party, freeing us from the penalty of sin.  God also gives us the choice not to repent, not to walk in humility and correct our wrongful ways, even though it grieves Him to see us in that condition; under the curse of sin.  And through that curse, we will live our lives without the blessing of inheriting the Kingdom of God and all of the eternal gifts that wait for us there (Galatians 5:21).  By remaining in sin we sign our own death warrant, in the eternal lake of fire (Proverbs 11:19).

I am thankful that God loves us so much that He is willing to remove all of our sins from His memory and allow us to become pure in his sight (Psalms 103:12).  I am thankful that He loves us so much that He gave His only Son, Jesus, as a sacrifice for our sins, and that by Jesus’ blood we are cleansed (Revelation 1:5).  I am thankful that this is a free gift from God the Father, without unreachable goals or impossible tasks (Romans 6:23).  I am so thankful that He not only saved me from my own sinful nature, made a way for me to overcome the very faults that were born within me, and gave me the opportunity to stand above all that I ever thought I could be, righteous and healed (1 Peter 2:24).

I am thankful that He trusted me enough to not only lift me up, but to teach me His ways so that I can teach others the truths of the scriptures that they may never have heard.  I am thankful that He makes a way to share all I have learned to all who will listen with a humble and open heart.  I am thankful.

*A Journey Through Ephesians – Chapter 2, Part 1

Written by Linda J. Humes

11-1-2014

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THE GADSDEN

27 Jul

“Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” Romans 6:4 -KJV

We recently made a trip to Douglas, Arizona to visit my son. Motel choices in that little town are few and our experience during our last trip was more than unpleasant. We did not want to revisit the same motel and the huge black bugs that came under our door in droves and up into our beds.

There were three motel choices, two of them appearing quite unhealthy, one was $20 more per night. We were on a shoestring budget but decided to eat cheaper and spend the money for a nicer room at the Gadsden Hotel.

The Gadsden Hotel is a colorful hotel with wonderful history and lots of character. Being built in 1907 will give you a clue to the character; being in a poor border town will give you another. The strong walls and structure will stand forever, but the amenities leave much to be desired. The rooms are functional and fairly clean, but the walls and ceiling are cracking and what could be an amazing stay in historical elegance was just a room in an old hotel that was once elite.

All around the hotel were little ghost icons. I asked our waitress, with a “cute” little ghost icon on her apron, whether she had ever seen the “ghost”.

“No,” she said in an eerie voice, “but I know they are all around us!” I told her that I had read an article which said that the Gadsden “ghost” was most seen in the basement.

“Yes,” she said, “I hate to go down there, it’s creepy.”

Not wanting to go into a religious teaching on spirits versus ghosts, I stifled a chuckle and headed for my room. The thought crossed my mind – I wonder what they would do if I decided to head to the basement for a little demon casting – bet I’d be ushered out of town on a rail, all tarred and feathered.

This hotel was using a “ghost” as a marketing tool, clinging to their “ghost” and creating an exciting atmosphere for the supernaturally curious. Sad.

How many of us not only cling to the “ghosts” of our past, but thrive on retelling our “ghost stories” for attention? Do we create cute little “ghosts” or bigger than life horrific “ghosts”? Can’t we see that with these stories, repeated over and over again, that we give the demons of our past strongholds to grow larger and stronger? Don’t we realize that we give life to the words we speak; good or evil, love or hate, truth or lie?

Lord, always help me to recognize when I cling to a demon of the past I resurrect it bigger than life. Remind me not to “bury” the ghosts of the past, only to exhume them so I can “one up” another tale of misfortune. Instead, let me bury the hurts of my past for good. Help me to always speak life and leave the buried past under the Blood of Jesus.

By Linda J. Humes

Written 7-1-11

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SACRIFICE

16 Sep

“By him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to his name.”  Hebrews 13:15  KJV

✝

The Ancient of Days,

cast Himself to the earth,

in the form of a seed,

in the womb of a virgin.

✝

Subject, now, to heat and cold,

to fatigue and illness,

to prejudice and ridicule,

to suffering and pain.

✝

The Ancient of Days,

became man,

flesh, blood and Spirit;

willingly giving,

the power of deity,

for the birth of a nation.

✝

The God of Jessie,

born through the sacrifice of blood,

to become the blood sacrifice.

✝

From the promises to Adam,

to the revelation shown John,

the blood of God coursed the earth,

changing strength and direction,

at the tributary called Christ.

✝

The new stream of Christ,

fed the trees of new life,

where the roots of the old,

were washed clean.

✝

The water, most pure,

chased the stagnant pools of red,

that once rinsed man’s hands,

but touched not the soul.

✝

The water, most pure,

flowed over and cleansed,

the wounds of the past,

refreshing the hope,

of a dark, tarnished dream.

✝

The water of life,

borne from the blood,

of an innocent man,

takes sweet revenge,

on the deepest of sin.

✝

Released to be washed,

by the power of mercy,

by the treasure of grace,

it rises back up,

to the base of the cross.

✝

There, at the cross,

the blood and water,

of grace and mercy,

flows down to the earth,

as forgiven sin reaches up,

meeting at the feet of Christ.

✝

Running together they became one,

the earth shook with promise,

the sky darkened,

to reveal a new light,

and the rivers flowed,

with a new wine,

washing clean the weary souls,

of all that would reach forth,

in praise.

✝

 

 

Written 10-18-1998

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FEAR NOT

22 Nov

“And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God.” Luke 1:30

—

In the bosom of innocence lay a mighty seed,

Kissed by Deity,

Torn from the safety of Heaven,

Planted by the hand of God.

—

Fear not, Mary, for within you rises a mighty nation,

Within you rests the end of death,

The keys to life.

—

Ten tiny fingers, ten little toes,

A mind that reads the multitudes,

A soul absent of sin.

—

Innocence bearing innocence,

Purity rising forth,

In humble servitude.

—

Fear not, Mary,

For the walk of faith,

The sacrifices to come,

Will be met with Grace,

Send from the Father above.

—

Fear not for the pain so deep,

That only a mother could know,

That only a mother could bear.

—

Fear not for that one small child,

Held up by the arms of the father,

Given back to God.

—

Fear not, Mary, for the blood to be shed,

For the wooden tree,

That holds Him up to God,

In a mocking, cynical taunt.

—

Fear not, Mary,

For the tears and confusions of the day,

Make way for the joy of the risen savior,

Untouched by death,

Sitting at the right hand of the Father.

—

Rejoice, Mary, for the precious times,

You held Him close,

For the pride you felt,

As He touched the crowds.

—

Rejoice, Mary,

That for all His attempts,

Satan was bruised,

And banished,

To rule the dead.

—

Rejoice, Mary,

For the precious Grace,

That met your need,

And the needs of the generations,

Because of the innocence sacrificed,

To the hand of God.

—

Written 6/18/98

By Linda J Humes

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CRIMSON BLOOD

8 Sep

Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, Make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.       Hebrews 13:20-21

 

So curious a creature are we,

 ingenious in the ways of war,

 yet perplexed by wounds,

 ever so greater,

 than any weapon,

 could ever conceive.



Wounds so deep,

 into the hearts,

 of our smallest children,

 that no medicine made,

 today or tomorrow,

 could ever lift the pain,

 piercing through.



Fatal wounds inflicted,

 by those they love most,

 in acts of anger,

 in acts of arrogance,

 in tearing away,

 from the gift they call love.



When the hope dies,

 along with worthiness,

 the wounded child,

 remains small,

 though the body may grow,

 to adulthood,

 to accountability.



Where, then, do they turn,

 when they scream out for love,

 from a deadened heart,

 pushed so deeply,

 into a box,

 of protective devices,

 flushed by deadening tasks?



Who, then, can see,

 into the callused eyes,

 shielding the soul,

 from any possibility,

 of additional wounds.



Only the Son of Light,

 can burn so bright,

 as to see into the depths,

 of a lightless life.



Only the Son of Life,

 can loosen the sword,

 of tainted love,

 and killing words,

 to free the fatal wound,

 in the deadened heart,

 of a little child,

 now the shape of a man.



It is only the Son,

 who called us from birth,

 set angels at our side,

 and prayed with our prayers,

 until the day,

 we were ready to heal.



It is only the Son,

 who’s dark crimson blood,

 entered into the wound,

 lubricating the weapon,

 only He could remove,

 cauterizing the opened cavity,

 filling it with the endless gift,

 of God’s perfect love.

 

 

Written 11-15-1998

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The Blood

19 Jul

Christ with cross

 “And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother’s blood
crieth unto me from the ground.”    (Genesis 4:10  KJV)

Blood pools at the soldier’s feet surrounding the whipping yard, spraying those nearby, spraying those ripping His flesh.  Were they ever the same?  Did His blood heal the afflictions of those who wielded the Cat of 9 tails?

When they ripped at His beard and slapped His face, when the blood transferred from God to Man, did they feel the change?  Were they startled?  Were they ashamed?

Every step along the Via de la Rosa was stained with blood.  Those who screamed “Crucify Him!” surrounded and followed after Him.  As their feet stepped on the bloody droplets, did miracles change their lives?  Did the blood burn their skin?  Did it tingle?  Did it warm them to their souls?

When Simon lifted the cross and Jesus’ blood smeared onto his face, did he still see the battered face of a condemned man, or did he see the face of God?

When the soldiers pounded the nails through Jesus’ wrists and they were sprayed by gushing blood, did they stop, even for a moment?  Did he feel the touch of anticipation in the dampness?

When Mary and John sat at the foot of the cross, praying and weeping, the precious blood of Jesus trailing down the wooden cross – dripping from His arms, dripping from His feet onto their clothing, onto their faces – did they feel the new life that was about to birth, or were they so torn by grief that they couldn’t see that each precious drop would birth a new nation, strong in miracles and power?

Did His last words pierce the sky like lightening, capturing the soul of anyone who heard?

When the soldier pierced His side, being sprayed with water and blood that flowed from Him, did he feel the hand of God?  Did he step back and recognize that this blood, this water, wasn’t the same as the hundreds of other men’s that he had seen before?  Did the water of the spirit flow over him?  Did he hear the voice of God?

When the sky turned dark and the earth trembled, did they feel God step down to carry up the soul of His precious son?

When they lifted His body down from the cross, did the last few drops touch the hands of the called?  Did they feel the burning and stirring inside of something miraculous about to happen?

Are there yet drops of His blood that have seeped deep into the soil, that by its presence makes the city Holy, not for what it is, but for who left His blood along a pre-ordained path?

Are my hands stained with His Blood when I walk from the path He called me to, like the many who strayed back then, and in their ignorance and anger, drained the miracle giving, life healing, Blood of Jesus out onto the ground?

Do I stand on hallowed ground and cry “No, it’s too hard” or like Simeon, do I pick up the cross and wrap an arm around my beaten circumstance and walk toward the word God spoke into my life?

If I had held one drop of His blood in the palm of my hand, could I have seen the eternal face of God in its reflection?

Thank you God for a sacrifice I may never truly understand the ramifications of, for a gift of which I may never realize the full preciousness.

Written 3-28-2009

By Linda J Humes

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Generations

17 Jan

Generations

Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me;                                                             Exodus 20:5

 —-

Thou shewest lovingkindness unto thousands, and recompensest the iniquity of the fathers into the bosom of their children after them: the Great, the Mighty God, the Lord of hosts, is his name,                                                                Jeremiah 32:18

 —-

The weight of the sins,

     of generations past,

     burden my shoulders.

 —-

I am tempted and swayed,

     toward an evil I don’t understand,

     and yet I crave.

 —-

I carry the mantle of a cursed generation,

     passed down,

     father to child,

     a covenant of sin.

     In which generation do I fall,

     3rd, 5th, maybe 7th?

 —-

The shadow of a cross

     falls across the path,

     I’ve been destined to walk.

     It breaks the pulling of the grave.

 —-

As I look to the man hanging thereon,

     calling my name,

     I feel the mantle lighten.

 —-

Resting at His feet,

     I look upward,

     into His pain wracked face;

     the blood from His pierced hands,

     falls on the mantle I carry,

     breaking the chains that hold it there,

     releasing the shell,

     it falls to the ground.

 —-

His eyes watch and question,

     “Will you pick it back up?”

 —-

Within my womb rests a nation.

     Their destiny rests within the choice,

     I must make.

     Their blessing or cursing

     rests in the power

     of my decision.

 —-

Do I pick up the mantle

     of my fathers,

     or wear a crown of thorns,

     adorned with the ruby red drops

     of the Savior’s blood,

     one day to be traded

     for a crown of gold.

 —-

There, at the foot of the cross,

     lay the empty shell,

     a wicked generation

     left behind  –  cleansed

     by the flow of blood.

—-

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