Tag Archives: Death

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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Birth Of The Bride

20 Aug

Genesis 1

Adam ressurection

The waters came forth,

    pure and abundant,

    preparing for life,

    supernaturally.

—

The evening and the morning,

    were the 5th day,

    life had begun.

—

From the dust of the dry land,

    and the waters of the sea,

    God’s hand formed and molded man,

    the first Adam.

—

The blood in his body lay silent,

    His image and soul lay pure,

    without life, water and blood ran together,

    unheedingly.

—

Then into his nostrils did God breathe,

    true life,

    not merging liquid,

    not hardened soil.

—

The gentle breeze from the soul of God,

    drew man to life,

    away from silent existence,

    covenant of love,

    covenant of truth.

—

The blood and water coursed within man,

    birthing forth the desire,

    of a new covenant.

—

In the safety of love man rested,

    a deep sleep,

    peaceful sleep.

—

God reached deep inside,

    removing a small sacrifice,

    blood and water and molded dust.

—

This rib became the bride of Adam,

    still and lifeless,

    breathed to life,

    by the same precious deity,

    the one Holy God.

—

By the breath of God did the woman rise,

    from mere existence,

    to precious life.

—

The evening and the morning,

    were the 6th day,

    the Bride was born.

—

She was to bear the cycle,

    the covenant of blood and water,

    the temporary temple of God’s chosen.

—

The cycle continued,

    covenant   –   sacrifice,

    birth    –    sacrifice,

    covenant    –    death.

—

Jesus, the final covenant,

    God the son,

    the substance of new life,

    pierced in His side.

—

Even in death,

    precious blood and water,

    amniotic fluid ran down the cross,

    onto a cursed hill  –  Golgatha.

—

With it ran the seed of a new nation,

    a new generation,

    the covenant of eternal life,

    the Bride of Christ.

—

With His last earthly breath,

    He drew in the sins of the world,

    and the Bride to come,

    that all life might dwell,

    in the Holy promises.

—

The sins, cleansed and forgiven,

    ran with the blood,

    ran with the water,

    planting the seed,

    of the covenant to come,

    Kingdom Heirs.

—

A tiny baby, born in the darkest of times,

    nurtured by the hand of God,

   filled with the breath of the Spirit,

    coursed through with sacrificial blood,

    sacrificial water.

—

No longer apart from God the Father,

    no longer apart from God the Son,

    the miraculous testimony of living Word,

    birthed in the death of sin.

—

Rise up, Oh Israel,

    take your inheritance of life,

    God breathed,

   Holy & Blessed.

—

Clothe yourself in gold and purple,

    as the rightful Bride,

    of Christ.

—

Rise up, Oh Israel,

    for the Groom prepares the place,

    where you shall dwell,

    the promises have come to pass,

    where faith meet truth,

    and they become one.

—

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SHRINE

27 Apr

Shrine

By Linda J. Humes

“We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:8

It breaks my heart. Every time I pass by a part of me rips. It drives me to an urgency of prayer. Shrines – ornate piles of mementos placed along the side of a road at a point where a life was lost. Not a simple white cross, but a memorial of treasures, family pictures, candles, flowers, trees, elaborate crosses, balloons, clothing, even a whiskey bottle decorates one near my home. Paths to the shrine are kept raked and clean, a row of rocks line each side of the path. Someone spends hours of time showing their love for one lost. This is only one example of many that are scattered throughout the community.

It is difficult to know much about the one being memorialized, but the ones left behind are the ones I grieve for. Do they believe the “ghost” of the loved one lingers there to enjoy the birthday banners, Christmas trees, stuffed Easter Bunny, or the framed photos that are changed every few months? Do they think a disembodied soul floats about, mourning and waiting for the living to remember them at holidays?

I pray continually that God would send someone to the keepers of the shrine, to let them know the peace of letting go. To let them know that there is more to life than animate mementos of life. To let them know about Jesus. To show them His great love. To give them the security of knowing that to be absent from the body is to be in the presence of God. That our peace after death is completely dependent upon our relationship with Christ, not on those who have stayed behind.

I don’t know who tends the shrines, but I know my God. I know that every prayer I utter meets the ears of my Creator, and I know that He can bring the right person, with the right words, at the right time, to touch their hearts and direct their souls.

Jesus, if that person is me – show me the way.

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Grafted

30 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

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