Tag Archives: Dead

DEAD BRANCHES

19 Nov

 

”But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” Matthew 18:6 (KJV)

 

Many years ago we experienced a winter far colder than any other I had experienced. Lakes frozen over, streets frozen over, chunks of ice were inches thick on the electrical and telephone wires all over town. People couldn’t drive their cars up the steep streets of Prescott, AZ. Police officers were turning lines of cars around in an attempt to reduce further accidents. It was COLD!

 On a warm afternoon, several months later, I was enjoying a quiet moment on my front porch. There was a light breeze blowing and suddenly a large branch fell out of our tree in the front yard. The tree was beautiful green and full with leaves. There wasn’t any sign of dead branches, until this one fell.

 I wandered over and looked up into the tree. It looked green and healthy. I looked from a different angle; green and . . . oh, wait, what was the brown in the middle? I brought over a ladder and looked closer – dead branches. There were a number of dead branches broken loose from the tree, being held in place by the new growth, waiting for a wind to set them loose. I suspect that these branches were broken loose by the heavy ice that had rested there in the months before. I pulled a few of the branches out and left those that were out of easy reach.

 It made me think about new Christians and how they have broken and wounded spirits that are hiding in their newly born lives. Lives full of enthusiasm and desire to grow with Jesus, covering over the brokenness and wounds that first drew them to Jesus. They look fresh and beautiful on the outside, hiding the pain inside.

 So many times we rejoice with their salvation and ignore the task set before us to help them grow. We often think they’ll find their own way to their faith and the truth. We might “toss” a scripture their way if they ask a specific question or two, but don’t get too involved in explaining what it means. After a while they become discouraged and disappear.

These “Babies” need someone to come along and embrace them, pray with them, teach them to let go and allow the pain and wounds to drop away through the healing of Jesus. Like us, they are called to be fountains of living water. They are to grow and be pruned by the Master, just like we were. They will be shaken clean by the winds of trial. Their roots will grow strong with dedicated study, prayer and intercession. But, only if we will teach them how.

 What sort of witness are we if we spend our time preening ourselves and not guiding them along the way? Do we allow them to be tossed by the winds of doctrine, or do we show them how to receive the wind of the Spirit and the healing Word of God? Do we allow them to wander and be confused by tempting spirits, or do we teach them to discern and recognize the truth? Do we brush away the dead branches we can easily see and leave the deepest, furthest away to remain? Or do we dedicate our works to intercession and instruction, so that they can recognize the things in their lives that they have the authority to cleanse away themselves. Do we care?

 God, help me to never forget how confused and lost I was when I first came to You. Help me to remember the outstretched hands and dedicated prayers that lead me to a strong knowledge of You. Help me remember how strong the pull was to give up and walk away when things just didn’t make sense, and the joy of breaking through with a well guided word and a moment of encouragement. Help me to be the example to help others find true relationship with You.

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By Linda J. Humes

Written 10-1-2012

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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

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WAX MUSEUM

7 Oct

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(THE EYES OF THE HOPELESSLY DEAD)

 The light of the body is the eye: therefore when thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light; but when thine eye is evil, thy body also is full of darkness.                                                                                   Luke 11:34

Vacations are interesting entities.  They are times when you spend money you know better than to spend and visit places that you may have only had a vague interest in previously.

In our family, vacations are a valued commodity that arrive only once every 3 – 4 years.  It’s a time when we have saved and set aside so that we can travel off for a day or two and leave everything behind for someone else to care for.  This year was our year of VACATION – August 1999!!

We had been given our hotel room as a gift and part of that gift included tickets to the Movieland Wax Museum.  None of us had ever been to a wax museum – however, none of us had ever really been over-enthusiastic about going either.  But, it was vacation!  A time to see something new!  A time to . . . well, you know.

At first, I was intrigued by the replicas; life-size dolls, the exact size of a famous movie star, wearing the original costume from a movie or an article of clothing from the movie star’s personal wardrobe – or so they claim.

The tour began with the older movies.  What took me by surprise was the size of the stars.  The women were so tiny, petite (to compensate for the 20 extra pounds the camera add, I suspect).  Jean Harlow, Bette Davis, Kathryn Hepburn – all movie greats, up close and personal.

Then there were the men.  Characters that loomed so large on the screen were trim young men, not much taller than myself.  The illusion of grandeur diminished.  The overwhelming feeling of awe was reduced.  They were just people.  People who struggled with self-esteem and the pressures of fame.  People, just like me, who tried to juggle work and family and (prayerfully) devotions.

As I continued the tour I recognized depression setting over me.  Why, Lord?  What are you showing me that I can’t see?

“Look at them,” He said, “carefully.”

I began to look into the faces – past the aging clothing, the dusty sets, the fading make-up, and a few missing fingers.  I stood in one spot and turned a full circle, looking carefully into the eyes of the replicas.

“There’s nothing, Lord, nothing!”

And that was it!  Deep in the eyes was the absence of the soul.  They were exact replicas of the bodies of men – void of love, hate, joy, dreams and visions.  It was a morgue of dead bodies, dressed up to entertain people.

I walked through the “horror” section and felt nothing.  Even with the sound tracks playing in the background of some of the sets, there was nothing.  The eyes were dead and blank.  There were no demons, no tormented souls, no hate, no raging insanity.  They were the eyes of the hopelessly dead.

After leaving the museum I searched the face of every person I saw.  The daily anguish, joy and stresses were there.  It slowly relieved my depression.  It gave me new hope and a fresh battleground.  For in the tormented eyes there is hope for salvation.  In joy there is peace and encouragement for tomorrow.

No matter what the tormented soul is screaming out through the eyes – as long as there is life, there is an opportunity for Jesus to enter in.

Lord, let me always remember that every face I see could belong to a soul of little time.  Give me the courage to change the demons that dance in those eyes, before they become the eyes of the hopelessly dead.

 

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