He's a Father

He’s a Father And His care is overwhelming Copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo ON, 2019

He's a Father

So stuck on form

And holy words

The conversation strained

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Will He oblige

In this dark need

With all its tears and pain?

The Old Book showed

A God who fought

And judgment hard imposed

For Israel’s need

And witchcraft’s end

And storms for those opposed.

But He has always shared

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The heart of Spirit and of Son

And how He wept

At Calvary’s pain

And watched His Son undone.

And every chat on Galilee’s shore

With happy children warmed

Showed Father’s love

Just like His Son’s

And all our dread disarmed.

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Ye Know Not How

Jim Cymbala Senior Pastor at Brooklyn Tabernacle gives a wonderful testimony of unstructured prayer in the Assembly and a battle won.

The Church had given a stab at prayer meetings without formal teaching in services specially called. He and his wife Carol had come to the end of two and a half desperate years with a rebellious daughter fleeing the Church and any contact with Jesus or people of faith. The couple did not know where she was.

Early into one night of prayer a handwritten note was forwarded from a woman to the pastor. It said simply “I believe that the entire congregation is

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to go into prayer for the well-being of your daughter…and to do it now”.The writer signed her name.

Jim balked for a moment at the idea that the whole program should be turned over to Pastor’s particular problem. But he felt the Holy Spirit in it and he gulped and decided to give everyone more detail about his daughter.

The room was respectful and silent, and quite rapidly a spirit of travail was released with numerous individuals speaking from the floor.

He would say in retrospect that there was an awesome sense of “birthing”.

His own humble presentation evoked compassion.

And that is when Jesus arrives! Need plus humility plus compassion plus earnest prayer and supplication. (Do we not see in the prophecy of Zechariah a reference to the Spirit of grace and of supplications?)

The very next morning the phone call came: “Mom…Dad. There’s a lot that I need to get straightened out. I’m coming home. Is that OK?” Romans 8: 26, 27

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Of Fathers and Forgiveness Â

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In a chat with a friend earlier today the topic got around to the Prodigal Son in Luke 15. We were agreed that the dark cloud in the story was not the returning wastrel but rather the self-righteous elder brother, who confirmed that he had always operated out of painful duty to honour his father (not out of love or thankfulness).

I would suggest that the story infers another dark image; the farm neighbour down the road who earlier saw the boy hiking in rags and filth and a hang-dog countenance, and got "on the telephone" to forewarn the Father:

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"Chester, it's Lloyd. How ya doin'? Say, Chester I want you to know that that no-good boy of yours Ronny is about five minutes from your front door. He looks awful. He must have really blown whatever opportunities he thought that he might have had. Has nothing to show for it. Probably frittered away a lot of your hard earned cash in the process. I wouldn't blame you man if you refused him into your house. Thankless young punk.

Just like so many of them today. My eldest Roger included. Haven't seen him in nine years. Rumour has it he is hooked up with some divorcee on the Coast. Might never see him again. No loss.

Well I thought I should give you the heads-up. After all, what are neighbours for? Hopefully he won't hang around for long. Talk to ya soon."

Click.

But we all know what the Father in the parable did do at the earliest possible opportunity. Read it once a month and for so long as it takes you to get a true look at the eager, loving heart of our Heavenly Father. You will cherish that Heart. You will draw close. (Luke 15:11-32)

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http://momentsmidstream.blogspot.ca/2009/05/road-home.html#!/2009/05/road-home.ht ml

Dark Cloud Be Gone

When I say it I must do it

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Getting under your hard trial Praying Father Will relieve you And will bring again your smile.

He is waiting For one faithful To implore at Mercy Seat And to partner In the rescue And to be His hands and feet With compassion Just like Jesus

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Who would always hear the call Of the suffering Of the questioning And with hope and health enthrall.

Yes I promised.

Not a small thing To approach the realms of power With the asking And the weeping For your victory this hour.

Friend for this I was alerted

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And on bended knees travail.

See that dark cloud Is now lifting As the three of us prevail.

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Throwing the Switch October 25, 2009

The impression of that short video clip remains with me.

It starts at the outskirts of a small American town, dated approximately sixty years ago. It is summer time and a father is leaving the house for work. He bids a good day to wife and pre-teen son.

The scene shifts to a stretch of railroad and a long trestle bridge over a gorge. The bridge has two distinct tracks each contained with safety fencing. Part of the one track is down for repair and the father is assessing the job.

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At the north end of the bridge a tall stand of trees borders the rail line as it executes a gentle curve leading to the small clearing at the gorge's approach.

Scene shifts to the household again and mother has noticed that father forgot his lunch for the day. The son responds, "I thought I heard Dad say that he was checking out the trestle bridge at rail mile 237. That's only an hour's walk from here. I'll take it to him." The boy is then shown happily hiking the rails through some pleasant countryside. Finally the bridge appears and he sees Dad at the far end approximately two football fields away. He shouts a greeting and hops on to the long structure.

But then the father's facial expression changes. He hears an approaching train still obscured by the trees. It is the eleven o'clock passenger run from upstate. He looks at the rail switches and notices that the train is being directed toward the damaged track. His son is well out on the bridge on the other rail, effectively walking a corridor of death.

The scene shifts to the interior of one of the train cars full of happy travelers of all ages, shapes and sizes, obviously unaware of the imminent peril. The timing of the video now picks up a pace and one sees a succession of faces registering shock -son, father, locomotive engineer. The train has emerged from the trees only yards from the bridge, and the father takes one last

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tearful look at his boy as he throws the switch, directing many lives to the course of safety at the cost of the life of his son.

The screen goes black and silent and the text appears: John 3: 16For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. http://momentsmidstream.blogspot.com/

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