Tag Archives: Matthew

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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THE TREE

9 Dec

“For I was an hungered, 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.” Matthew 25:35-36

After living my whole life in a large city, we moved to a small northern Arizona town, where houses sat on 1 acre lots, or larger. From stoplights every 2 streets, to 2 stoplights in the whole town. From helicopters and sirens all night long in the surrounding neighborhood, to a siren every few months, or less. It was a welcomed change, it was a time to slow down and enjoy life.

About 3 months later I had to make a business trip back to the city. It didn’t take much time to realize how quickly I had acclimated to small town life and how overwhelming the big city could be.

Highway travel with cars darting in and out, merging, volleying for position, and set on getting somewhere as fast as they could. I set my car in the direction I needed to go and focused completely on getting there. The feeling of being overwhelmed ceased, but the realization that in all this scattered and tempered movement, no one went anywhere quickly, at least not during rush hour.

After a long day’s work, I decided to try the inner city streets to get cross to the highway. It went rather smoothly across the city, until I had to take the major street that would connect me to the highway. I had no idea that the turn I was about to make would shock me.

The time I saved traveling across the inner city was lost in the creeping traffic of the main artery streets that crossed the city to accessed the highway; streets that business people travel night and day to get to the large corporations, legal offices and medical specialist complexes; where a large group of people become invisible to the eye of daily life. It was a group of people I knew existed, but I never “really” saw. A group of people that walked the streets where I had lived; slept in the parks where my children had played; there on that street lay the homeless.

It took moving away to see the pain and desolation of these displaced people, lying on bus-stop benches and along the sidewalks. Groups huddled closely to stay warm; people walking down the sidewalk moved from side to side to avoid the extended arms and outstretched legs of the sleeping. Commuting people stepped over dirty backpacks and encrusted duffle bags, people walked by, never making eye contact with those they stepped over.

I looked around at the other drivers, many were accustomed to this daily trek, with papers across the steering wheel, cell phones to their ears, paper bag dinners being consumed. They weren’t looking to the side. They weren’t seeing the people on the side. They had an agenda.

I cried out to God, asking why I had not seen these people before. Why did my heart break now, but not when I lived close enough to have done something? At one time these people represented a threat that I had to protect my children from – perhaps an unrealistic threat, yet one that seemed so real at the time. I had seen them as a group instead of individuals, each with a set of circumstances and events that placed them where they were, or encouraged them to choose this lifestyle.

I stopped at a convenience mart to get a cup of coffee and a snack; the homeless sat and lay all around the perimeter, some stood together near the building. One man, close to my age, stood near the door. I made my purchases and as I approached the door he opened it. He smiled a broad smile, teeth missing, in need of a bath, layered in clothes to break the cold. I smiled back and thanked him, he gestured back and went about his business.

I sat in the parking lot a long time, taking it all in. I was overwhelmed by the needs of these people; I was overwhelmed because there was nothing I could do. I felt hopelessness for them; I felt hopelessness for me. I was ashamed for not seeing the reality of life before my eyes in the 30 years I had lived in the area, 2 of those years less than a mile from where I was this day, 3 years in a similar area. Why hadn’t I seen?

I made my way back onto the street filled with creeping traffic. Tears filled my eyes, my heart broken. There were homeless on both sides of the street for miles. I asked Jesus to forgive me for the heart I had hardened toward these children of God. I began to pray and intercede for their lives, their health, their safety, and their salvation. I cried out to God to send laborers to the fields; fields cluttered with a hungry and dying group of people with no where to call home.

Night was falling quickly, as did the temperature. Blankets surrounded several to increase warmth. Their lives went on as usual, they as unaware of the travelers on the streets as the travelers were of them.

My last prayer was for God to show me that He was there, that these people were as important as I was. I needed to know that those lives were not wasted. I needed to regain the faith that God was in control, even in the dismal situations that lined these streets.

As I reached the freeway entrance and made my turn I spotted my answer on the very top of a cold dark sky-scrapper. On that January night, when all corporations had closed and the lights dimmed, there stood a Christmas tree, lights twinkling in the night sky, a bright white star at the very top. A small symbol of Christ and His birth – accidentally left turned on.

Jesus, never let me forget that we all start our lives as babies. We grow to face events and circumstances that guide our paths. Let me never forget that everyone born must have hope, true hope that could only come by knowing Christ. Let me be a bearer of the light to all I meet. Let me be the star at the top of a Christmas tree on a sky-scrapper on a cold dark night when someone looks up to find you.

By Linda J. Humes

Written 2-1-04

**The Emmaus Road”

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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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Into Every Hand

17 Nov

Hands 

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?    Matthew 7:11

—– 

Into every person’s hand,

God brings life.

 —–

Sometimes they are the children, of our passion;

Sometimes the children, of our compassion;

Sometimes the hopes and dreams, of our soul.

—–

And with the honor, comes obligation;

to breathe truth, to breathe love,

to breathe hope, to breathe light,

into that life.

—–

With the guard of ministering angels, life can grow.

But tempted by the guard of the fallen,

 they find anger, they find strife,

they embrace perversion.

—–

We choose their angels, in their toddler years;

They choose their angels, in their teens;

All choose again, in the maturing of life.

 —–

Where have we sent them, these precious lives?

What have we shown them?

What example have we set?

 —–

Do the angels of our light,

war with the angels, of their darkness;

Or do the angels of our darkness,

strive to drive away the angels, of their light?

 —–

Into every hand, God places the gift of life.

Some are the children, of our passion;

Some are the children, of our compassion;

Some are the hopes and dreams,

of our soul.

 —–

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PEARL OF GREAT PRICE

2 Sep

 Chicken Coop Eggs

  

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking

goodly pearls:  Who, when he had found one pearl of great price,

went and sold all that he had, and bought it”  Matthew 13:45-46

All my life I’ve wanted a coop full of chickens, and at age 54, they finally arrived!  My love for these wonderful birds began during times I spent at my grandmother’s home – the only place I felt true peace and acceptance as a child.  Her love of chickens was passed on to me.  I can sit and watch my crowd of noisy, smelly, feathered critters and remember a simpler time – and a woman that was my model of love.

I think my favorite time with them is when I put them to bed at night.  I usually end up chasing them around the yard several times before they all make it into the hen house.  I latch their little door and go inside to change their water and give them scratch and crumbles.  They’re so funny.  They squawk and crow and carry on.  They fight over nests and positions on the roosting bar.  You’ve never seen such a fuss – every night like the first time – what a circus.

Then I collect the eggs that have been carefully placed throughout the day.  Eggs as small as a ping-pong ball and others so large it’s hard to close them into the egg cartons.  If you clean their pen, or bring in a new tenant, the egg-laying stops for a few days – until they recover from the change.  They really are a lot like us.

I sat and studied one of the tiny Banty eggs the other night.  It was small, perfectly shaped, evenly milky-tan, and laid at a price.  God created them to make a daily sacrifice of themselves – to bring new life, or to sustain an existing one.  A pearl of great price, given unselfishly, every day.

God has also given me a pearl – a gift of His Word – to bring new life (new souls born again) or to sustain one that is in need of immediate nourishment (a word of prayer, encouragement, or exhortation).  My gift is replenished every day, every minute, but do I always give it – like the chicken – without prodding or “right” circumstances?

Jesus, always give me the desire to unselfishly share Your Word, Your touch, Your smile, Your love, whenever You show me the need – without hesitation.  My joy would be to always be a “Pearl of Great Price.”

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The Mustard Seed

2 Sep

Mustard Seed

Matthew 17:20 “ . . . If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.”

While enjoying a moment of prayer and being enveloped in the blessing of anointed music, I was touched by the greatness of God. The God that brought the children of promise out of Egypt; the God that parted the Red Sea; the God that brought life to the womb of a virgin Israelite girl; the God who created life and set the sun, moon and stars in their orbit. The God that give life to the grass, flowers, animals and man – no two alike. The God that holds every thought and every emotion of each of His children close to His heart, and turns His head toward the broken, sincere prayer.   What a Mighty God We Serve!!!

As I sat in thanksgiving of how great He is, I rejoiced in how He loves us so much that He has packaged all of His power into a faith that would fit inside the tiny mustard seed. A seed so small, that I could hold hundreds in the palm of my hand. That thought fills me with such joy. The faith of Moses, Elijah, Elisha, Peter and Paul would fit into five tiny seeds that rest in the crease of my palm. The faith to lead a nation, to speak life into dying people. The faith to perplex natural events and raise the dead back to new life. The faith to stand, and when they were weary and no longer had the strength to stand, by faith they stood.

Jesus, I pray that I will be content enough with myself that I will want to abundantly bless another in my smallness. I don’t want to feel that I must be well known and in frontline ministry to be able to make a difference. Help me to remember that I can rest in prayer, and with the faith the size of a mustard seed, send up the sweet savor of a miracle to be birthed in another, half a world away.

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DEAD BRANCHES

27 Apr

Dead Branches

By Linda J. Humes

”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 froze over, streets froze 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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MAMA’S CHINA CABINET

27 Apr

China Cabinet

by Linda J. Humes

“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

Moms receive all sorts of knick-knacks and trinkets over the years. To the “untrained” eye they are bits of clutter that need disposed of. To a Mom they are priceless treasures. I have “pretty” rocks and molded clay in my cabinet. Right next to them are plaster of Paris handprints, tiny paper airplanes and small plastic toys. Each represents a special day in the life of one of my children. If I could have figured out how to preserve all the dandelions and wild flowers I would have a huge arrangement by now. Someday these treasures will be joined by gifts from the grandkids.

My Mom had a cabinet filled with similar delights. I was always mesmerized by her curio collection. I loved looking at them through the glass, seeing treasures each of us 5 kids had given her and little porcelain characters and vases she had received from others. On special occasions they would come out to decorate, to be put carefully back on another day.

When my Mom passed I asked about one of the items and my brothers and sister agreed that I could have it. It was a little elf on his knees under a mushroom. The mushroom was open and could hold 3 dandelions or one short lily. As I unwrapped my treasure I noticed something I had never noticed before – it had been broken and glued many different times. Dark lines and overflow glue held the mushroom top up. His little beard showed signs of repair. There were chips and small pieces missing when glued back together.

I don’t know who gave her that gift, but it was obvious that she loved it as much as I did. It would have been easy to toss it all away when it broke the first time, or the second, or the third . . . but she carefully took the time to put it all back together, holding it as the old glues took time to set.

Broken Pieces – Broken People.

It makes me think about God and all of His broken children. Like my mother, carefully mending her broken treasure, God sends people to His broken children to help them mend and heal. He doesn’t toss them out when they make mistakes or fall apart; He takes the time to speak to us, bring us “glue” to put us back together, strong arms to hold us up, strong faith through prayer.

I set my little vase toward the back where it wouldn’t be accidently knocked over. God, please keep me safe in Your loving arms and put me back together with the glue of the Holy Spirit if I should break.

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CHRYSALIS

27 Apr

Chrysalis

By Linda J. Humes

“Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?” Matthew 6:30 (KJV)

I made a new friend the other day. He wasn’t attractive – didn’t have a “big” name – wasn’t famous; in fact, he didn’t have anything to do with the church! Yet, Jesus, he taught me more – about you – than the most eloquent, the most learned, person I’ve heard.

My little friend – short and plump – rested briefly on a tomato stem, preparing to consume yet another leaf. This little caterpillar – subject daily to the mercies of his environment – was bound to the earth by those areas where he could climb.

He was so perfectly made – just like you – just like me. Every curve, every stout little leg, every perfect oval marking, balanced and ordered by a meticulous God.

He pressed forward, eating intently, knowing that soon he must die, and resting in the faith, that in his death he will be born again. He will soon take his earth-bound body, wrap it carefully in instinctive faith, and wait for the day when he will soar with a new freedom – as a beautiful, delicate butterfly.

We, too, can make the decision to wrap up our earth-bound lives and dispose of the old self, allowing the freeing release of the Holy Spirit, giving us wings to soar into the Presence of God.

The caterpillar, in his instinctive faith, never wastes a moment wondering “if” – he is drawn to the freedom he KNOWS will come. Oh, that we could have the faith to shed all that binds us to the ground. That we might wrap ourselves completely in the chrysalis of the Word of God, pulled tight by the power of the Spirit that transforms us. That we would desire to be drawn to that freedom – unafraid of the heights that we could soar to – through the rebirth from our old self to Christ.

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DANCING ON THE WIND

27 Apr

Birds Flying

By Linda J. Humes

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28 (KJV)

On my weekly trip from Phoenix, up the mountain toward home, there’s a stretch of highway that has been cut through the mountain. Signs warn as you drive this section that there are strong crosswinds that run through where the mountain falls sharply to a crevasse then back to the protection of the carved out mountain. I’ve been given a good shake there many times; jolting me to a stronger grip on the wheel and a sharper eye on the road. One day I heard God telling me to pay attention to the beauty, not to worry so much about the dangers.

At first I thought I was supposed to see the beautiful striations of the mountain side, skillfully sliced away by the highway builders; brown, gray, white and gold pictures, drawn by the hand of God. Then there was the beautiful vegetation that peeked through at the high transit speed. Saguaros give way to high desert scrub at that point, all in bloom in spring.

One day I noticed the smallest mark on the sky, moving from left to right and back again over the highway, traveling up high and back down again. Then there was another and another. They were falcons, dancing on the wind. They rode the crosswinds, swooping down to easy sight, then catching the wind upward again, wings spread so wide that the feathers at the wing tips looked like fingers caressing the sky. They danced and played and found such freedom on the breath of God. Praise you Jesus – I felt freedom just watching them – I felt such peace.

It’s so easy for me to move from chore to chore – get up – eat – work – drive home – worry about getting everything done – stressing out – and all the time God is calling out “look for Me – I will give you rest, I will give you peace – look for Me.” When I opened my eyes to God, my drive no longer became a chore but a blessing.

I have seen as many as 15 birds at a time in that stretch. I always experience the same immediate calm – peace. I wonder how many other times God has called to me to look for Him in a difficult situation, and I was too overwhelmed to listen.

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” I’m so thankful that we have a God who loves us so much that He never stops calling our name.

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