Tag Archives: Jesus

CARPE DEIM

9 Aug

“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:  Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.  Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?  Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?  And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”   Matthew 25:35

Inmates shackled

Over the last “many” years I have spent more time in criminal justice courtrooms than I care to remember.  I’ve watched the guards bring in a line of shaking, red-eyed prisoners, shackled at the hands and feet and chained to each other.  I’ve watched the families, broken and confused, sitting on the benches, completely helpless.

My Mother’s heart wants to comfort them, assure them that it’s all going to be okay, but talking is forbidden, movement discouraged – and it just might NOT be okay.

I see families trying to catch the eye of their imprisoned loved one, to give them a sign of hope.  But signs are posted all over the room that “no interfacing with the prisoner is allowed.”  Not verbal communication, not hand signs, nothing – under penalty of arrest.  It doesn’t take long to recognize how serious things are.

All the quotes and thoughts I’ve had as a counselor remained in my mind.

“Be instant in season and out of season.”

“A word fitly spoken . . .”

“Go into all the world . . .”

“Carpe Diem.”

In a place where people most needed a word of hope, it was forbidden.  Where did it all go wrong?

I’ve been given the honor of ministering to many inmates’ families.  Families referred to me by churches, prison chaplains and inmates, wanting to be sure their families are doing okay.  I’ve been able to bring words of truth and hope to inmates whose lives changed at a moment of indiscretion.  I’ve seen God bloom in situations that seemed completely hopeless.

God, help me always remember that every inmate shackled to a guard is Your child, born for Your kingdom.  Help me to remember that even though I may not be able to change a situation, I can always bring a word of encouragement and hope.  Help me to remember that the gift of “free will” may forever change the direction of a person’s life, but it does not close the door to Your Kingdom, if a changed life will stand at your door and knock.  And always help me to remember that I may be the only “Jesus’ others will ever see – and if I don’t tell them the words of truth, how will they ever know?  Carpe Diem.

Written by Linda J. Humes

8/21/2005

**Road to Emmaus**

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Heritage of Hope

1 Sep

sprout in dry desert

“in whom also we were made a heritage, having been foreordained according to the purpose of him who worketh all things after the counsel of His will; to the end that we should be unto the praise of His glory, we who had before hoped in Christ:”  Ephesians 1:11-12 (ASV)

Recently I was invited to a new friend’s home for lunch after church.  God has richly blessed this couple and their home was amazing.  Everywhere I looked was just . . . “Wow!”  When I returned home that evening I was flooded with memories of my childhood home.  For days I couldn’t shake it.  Depression set in.  It was a heritage that I could not shake, even though my life is so much different now.

Growing up in the 50’s in a small desert town is a whole world away from the way things are today.  No running water, outhouses (I’m still not very fond of those things), no cooling, only the kitchen stove for heating, bare cement floors, and the backseat out of an old Chevy for a sofa.  Bed was blankets on old steel springs, no mattress.  I remember, many mornings, getting up to my mom melting down icicles on the stove so we could have water.  There was a wind driven fan in the wall that helped bring air into the home during the summer.  We would lay on the cool cement floor under that fan to take naps; mom stuffed a wooden spoon between the blades to make it stop at night.  Meals were jackrabbit, catfish and pinto beans, unless a neighbor brought us a chicken.  My worldly heritage.

I remember telling God that I would never return to an area like that.  In recent years I have walked into homes with similar conditions and physically shook. I told God that I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t think there, I couldn’t breathe there.  His voice came gently, “how can you minister to them if you don’t see where they are from, if you don’t find common ground.”  It was my call to show them the heritage that God held for them, far beyond the physical conditions where they currently existed.

God’s Heritage, created for us before the foundations of the earth, is eternal life (John 3:15).  A life free from pain and illness.  A life free from tears, sorrow, worry and doubt (Revelation 21:4).  A heritage of being an heir with His son, Jesus Christ (Romans 8:17).  A heritage of a mansion, built specifically for us, at the hands of Jesus himself (John 14:2).

When we hear the call on our lives we become partakers with Jesus, reaching out to a lonely broken world (Ephesians 3:6).  We become workers of the gospel, sharing with all the promise of the heritage they have waiting for them, if they would only believe.  We testify and share the very gifts that God has given to us, as He has willed for us to do; as well as those who will follow after.  And in that labor we find fullness of joy (Psalm 16:11), praising and worshipping our God for the gift of His manifested glory in our lives (John 1:14), filled with grace and truth.

Lord, let us remember that we are your hands and feet to this world of hurting and wounded people.  Help us to walk past the difficult memories of our worldly heritage and share a story of hope with those whose lives rest in similar circumstances, giving them hope of a new and wonderful inheritance with You.  Let our testimony of rising above our circumstances be the key to their faith in a new life in You.  Please give us the strength.

**A Journey through Ephesians – Chapter 1, Part 7

Written by Linda J. Humes

8-31-14

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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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TOWERS

5 Jan

 Towers

“Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”    Matthew 28:20 KJV

 —-

My life took a hard turn in my 60th year.  The job I’d had for 18 years ended and the job I found was completely across the state – a 4 hour drive time to be exact.

My new job was managing an information services division at a college that is dedicated to distance learning.  Part of the job included managing the maintenance of the many towers scattered within the 24,000 square miles the college serviced.

I will tell you truthfully, I’ve never paid much attention to towers before.  I’d see the red light flash off in the distance and glance quickly away.  I would recognize one along a road, but never paid it much mind.  I didn’t realize the critical element it was in reaching people and giving the opportunity to learn in remote regions.  Now I see the lifeline of communication towers bring to desolate areas – kind of like Jesus!

Jesus’ love shines forth as a beacon to the unloved and the unlovable.  Jesus walks with us every day, speaking to us, encouraging us, guiding our way – yet most of the time we don’t even recognize Him; we pass Him by unnoticed.

My God, please keep me ever aware of my surroundings and what it is that You want me to do with that awareness.  Please let me always hear Your voice and heed Your call.  Let me recognize the lifeline of hope and healing you bring to desolate areas.  Guide my steps Lord, even if they stop at the bottom of a giant tower.

—-

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Forsaken

11 Nov

  Jesus with Cross - the Passion

And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”–which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Mark 15:34 (NIV)

Easter has always been a hard day for me.  I love the music.  I love the spring clothing.  I love the new growth and flowers in bloom.  I love the promise of God that comes with the resurrection.  But, I can’t even think on the crucifixion and what it meant.

When I think about Jesus, and all He did during the 3 years of recorded ministry, hanging on a cross, ripped, bleeding, nailed; I cry.  When I recognize that the torture they put Him through was a sacrifice for my sins and a door to my eternal life; I cry.  How could this perfect man be so destroyed by a sin-filled people, didn’t they understand who He was?  He performed miracles before them and taught them the message of love and forgiveness.  How could they not know?

I wonder what God was feeling at the moment the soldiers stood the cross in place, the tortured body of His Son nailed to the front.  He had a plan, and His Son was the critical element of that plan, but He was also a father.

One of my children made a very poor decision and was picked up by the police department.  He was in the back of the squad car calling “Mom, Mom, Mom . . . !”  I wasn’t allowed to go near the car or speak to him.  Those words still echo in my head and mind and I get overwhelmed with emotion, knowing that my child needed me and the comfort of my words, but that there was nothing I could do.  Is that how God felt when Jesus cried out “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?”  In the late hours of a dark night do they continue to haunt Him like my child’s words continue to haunt me?  Or was the outcome so powerfully wonderful that the echoes are diminished with love?

God, please forgive me for my portion of the plan that Your Son endured for me.  Hold me ever accountable to the call You placed on my life before the world was formed, and later when you formed me in my mother’s womb.  Let me always be diligent in praising You and sharing who You are to a world filled with darkness.

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OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES

18 Sep

baby & adult hand

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger. Psalm 8:2

The other day I took my 6-year-old son to the mall for “one-on-one” Mom-Son time.  We saw a short 3-D movie, “T-REX”, the one where the dinosaur drools right in your lap as he eyes you for a potential lunch item.  After the movie we ate lunch (30 restaurants to choose from and he goes for Burger King  –  AGAIN!) and talked a while, then we decided to do a sightseeing lap around the mall.

About 2 months ago I started working Saturday mornings, the day I usually spend with the boys.  We always went for breakfast (all you could eat buffets!) and then went to the park or ran errands around the valley.  When my schedule changed I went to the boy’s school and asked the principal about taking each boy out on rotating Fridays.  She gave me her approval as well as her blessing; Mom-Son Friday came to pass.

Every Friday at noon I pick one of the boys up.  We talk, eat and watch a movie (of the boy’s choice); not necessarily in that order.  By 4:00 PM we’re on the way back to pick-up the other two and head home.  This particular day was Jon’s day.

As Jon and I walked around he chose the shops he wanted to tour through.  Being 6 he chose only the brightest and most colorful shops.  No clothing  –  mostly shops with toys, hanging objects, shelf decorations and rocks.  One of the shops we went into seemed innocent from the front.  There were rock slab wind-chimes, polished stone necklaces, cut stone book-ends, and similar items throughout.  Jon was mesmerized by the color and shine.

As we neared the back of the store we saw voodoo and witch-doctor paraphernalia on the floor and walls.  I tried to steer Jon clear of the items, but he nearly ran into a chair with a demon head carved into the seat back.

Jon stopped immediately, put his little fists on his hips (as only a 6 year old can do) and stated quite clearly, “Well, these people don’t know Jesus.”  After which he quickly dismissed himself from the store.

Trying to help lift his spirits, I started searching for signs of Jesus in every store we entered.  Finally, as we reached the end of the mall, I spotted a shelf with porcelain figurines of Jesus, Mary, the nativity, the crucifix and various other Christian themes.

“There, Jon,” I said.  “There’s Jesus.”

For a moment a smile formed on his face, which was quickly dismissed and replaced by round determined eyes and firmly set fists.

“Well,” he said.  “I just want to know why Jesus is there  –  and women with no clothes are right there!”  I followed his small pointing finger to the shelf immediately below.  There on the shelf were porcelain nudes, three times the size of the Christian figurines.

“I’m just going to go get Joseph (our youth pastor) and we’re going to come back here and pray.”  At that point he took is offended little self out of the store and decided that he had seen enough of the mall.

So there I was, at 49, looking so hard to find Jesus that I allowed myself to overlook the offense, the insult, of placing Him among the very decadence He came to this world to overcome.  In that very store were dragons and Buddas, crystals and prayer beads, nudes and seductive paintings.  How many times do I close my eyes to the things that offend me?  How many times have I felt it was the way of the world and there was nothing I could do?

Out of the mouth of a babe came the words that had been spoken into him.  At 6 years old he was ready to take a stand against the things he knew were wrong, and he was ready to find someone to stand with him in prayer.

Thank you, Jesus, for babies who remind us how to be the best we can be.

By Linda J. Humes
Written 2-24-1999

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JESUS IN THE COLD

9 Jun

Jesus-on-cross

By Linda J. Humes

“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” Revelation 3:20

I work in a large city 3 hours from my home in the small town of Chino Valley, AZ. Every Tuesday morning at 5am I start the journey down the mountain – with several appointed stops along the way (I don’t recall having to stop quite so often when I was younger!).

It was a cold winter morning. With heater and defroster blasting I had created a comfortable refuge. Praise and worship music filled my small sanctuary as I prayed and sang while on my way to my first stop, an hour down the road, and my first cup of coffee! I have come to cherish those intimate times with my Jesus.

My stop went as usual, with only momentary shivering, and I was on my way again. I had just pulled back onto the highway when a light caught my eye, up to the left. I had never noticed it before. As I sped by at 65 mph I saw it – as I sped by I saw “Him.” It was a roof-to-ground sized crucifix on the side of a church building. It took my breath away. “Oh, no,” I thought, “someone left Jesus out in the cold.”

It hit me with such force that the ambience of my sanctuary disappeared. Immediately my thoughts went to turning around and covering him up, straight into “mom mode” and out of reality. I saw a vision of Jesus wearing my gloves, hat and wrapped in my car blanket. On any other day that would have made me laugh – trying to warm up a stone Jesus with earthly garments. But I didn’t laugh that morning; in fact I spent well into an hour in tears, so grieved in my spirit.

Why did it hurt? That crucifix had probably been there for years, this morning someone had forgotten to turn the light off. This day I faced a reality that I had not allowed myself to dwell on before. We have left Jesus out in the cold.

There is Jesus hanging alone on the side of, or in front of, our churches. We hang Jesus around our necks as a symbol of our faith. We hang Jesus on our living room walls and in our bedrooms. I’ve even seen Him hanging from rearview mirrors and glued to dashboards of cars. Jesus is all around us – in the cold. Yet is He also where He belongs? Is He nestled warmly in the depths of our heart? Is He so deep inside us that we find peace and joy in the darkest of moments? Is He inside this warm sanctuary only in times of crisis – or do I keep Him warm always?

I didn’t take off the cross I was wearing that day, but I did hold it in my hand all morning. I didn’t take down the pictures in my home, but I did make sure that the glass and frames were clean. I didn’t cover Jesus up at the little church along the highway, but I did say a dedicated prayer. I asked for His forgiveness for those moments in my life when I had left Him out in the cold. And I prayed that He would always help me keep Him nestled deep inside my heart, every day of my life.

Thank you Jesus, that no matter where man places You, You are always there to commune with us, if we will only open the door when you knock.

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