LIGHTS COME ON a sampling of Gospel upheavals copyright Doug Blair, Waterloo, ON, 2016
The Concerted Search This thing never ends And I have a responsibility. Waking in this hotel room Well into days of business. The dream was filled with awe And forewarning. A place without shafts of sunlight Without singing of birds Or laughter of very small children All pink and perfect. Undercurrents of grief Of abandonment On a road irreversible.
Hopelessness beyond words Or circumstance. And not about to end. No babies. No new Life. No happy families. The manger Child Came into view. And the bowing of all Eastern wisdom before Him. The happy noises Of the carpenter shop And a Father’s focused coaching. The wanderings of hillside And meadow and marketplace. Heaven’s touch constantly Brought to His mind. The browsing of sacred scrolls And emergence of the Mission. Seeking, hurting people Relieved at side of Lake By His simple touch or message. Power figures Recoiling and hissing. Their bankruptcy exposed And games of sin manipulation. (Sunday school images all.) The rest followed quickly: The debates, the treachery, The cowardly arrest The ridiculous trials And postures. And a crowd turned animal As if a single unit Beneath the bleeding
And beseeching of The One Good Man. Cross-bound‌ In that mutinous unit I saw myself Howling like the rest. Disgusted at the sufferings. Not knowing their import. Until His gaze fell upon me. Not condemning, but reassuring That I could do better. Would do better. There was still time. I awoke. One full minute before The front desk’s calling. I reached out. The bedside drawer held One of those Gideon Bibles. A concerted search Had been birthed Out of merciful terror And longing. I would become That New Creation. In Christ. The greatest of businesses Now very clear.
Surgical
Procedure is being WELL HANDLED Staff serious, skilled Sensitive All vitals watched throughout Incision precise To the trouble spot Clean white sheets cover All but the place of business Life as we know it Put on hold Others sustain the pulse Size up the enemy Being contested Offer up snip-its of prayer Sweat mopped away Senior practitioner
Senses the weight The responsibility Been there before To good avail Monitors, lights Blip and sing So do the angels (Watching from the Gallery) ...All sewn up “You’re welcome”. _____________________________ Hebrews 4: 12 For
the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the
dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. 13 Neither
is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight: but all things are naked and opened unto
the eyes of him with whom we have to do.
The Prize*
She has been gaining on us Our hold heavy With burdensome loot Our riggings pock-marked From the shot of exchanges And the stress of this South Sea. Duties never change Sometimes lightened with song But many a time On our knees scrubbing. Or hauling sheets Or scampering aloft. We know our lowliness Those skeletons of drink, darkness And debauchery ashore. Captain reads us Psalms Many a morn But the images are so foreign Like an exotic verdant isle
Not yet landed. And this other bonnie ship Gaining this late afternoon All sails full and profiting This might be the last Of our nights for this flag. Close watch to lights and breeze We reckon. And who are they? And whose Crown? And will we be shackled Below decks? Or given happy privilege To serve and strain And sing yet again? For a different Captain Headed for a different land? With what seems Totally different purpose.
(* Salvation starts with total despair of self, leading to an overthrow, a boarding, and a subjugation with ultimate gladness to a different Captain and King.)
The Convicting Aspect
In Luke chapter five we have the incident of Jesus instructing Peter to set out again in the morning after a night of futile fishing. A number of possible interpretations have been offered for Peter's response: 'Lord, we have
been at this all night to no avail; nevertheless at thy word we will launch out.' The extraordinary yield of fish which followed caused Peter to say "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man." Here is the rabbi, obviously inexperienced in the ways of fishing, showing some supernatural knowledge or authority concerning the fish. Perhaps Peter had responded in sarcasm or in doubt as to Jesus' prospects of success. The Lord's calm, sincere and hopeful demeanour had a convicting effect. It is likely that anyone who got within range of the Master's words or extraordinary deeds would respond in like fashion. In am reminded of one of the Psalms which states, "But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared." (Psalm 130: 4) Later in the same chapter of Luke Jesus has healed and forgiven the palsied man lowered through the roof, has incurred the wrath of the scribes and Pharisees for absolving sin, and has gone to dine at the house of Matthew, straight from the publican's bench. His comment is very revealing as to his mission: Luke 5: 31And Jesus answering said unto them, They that are whole need not a physician; but they that are sick. 32I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance. These days I hear a lot of talk about mimimizing doctrine and right orthodoxy and maximizing the winsome nature of the Man of Galilee. (See the appended You Tube video with Jan Sjoerd Pasterkamp. His point is that the quest for truth should never surpass the quest for unity. But what about the quest for intimate knowledge of the real Jesus and the real love which only He imparts?) Man hopes to behold the totally righteous One and yearns for an opportunity to unload his sin. Time and again it is shown that Messiah attracts, wounds by the evident contrast of His nature and then ministers healing and a fresh start. In one place in Acts the Gospel is described as "repentance unto life" (chapter 11:18).
Divine Softening
Beneath Thy Cross AM I a stone, and not a sheep, That I can stand, O Christ, beneath thy cross, To number drop by drop Thy Blood's slow loss, And yet not weep? Not so those women loved Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee; Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly; Not so the thief was moved; Not so the Sun and Moon Which hid their faces in a starless sky, A horror of great darkness at broad noon-I, only I. Yet give not o'er, But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock; Greater than Moses, turn and look once more And smite a rock. Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
False Guilt A radio broadcast by Charles Stanley was provocative. He was attempting to help listeners who are debilitated by condemnation and guilt which are not from God. The kind of inner message which suggests, "Ah, you will amount
to nothing. You are really of no value. Living a sham. Unlikely to attract any real friends. Nasty. Can't get ahead. Wasting your days." This kind of message is a total put down without specifics. The work of Satan and not of God. Any rebuke from the Father will give you specific ground from which to repent. Weren't the Old Testament prophets always specific? Wasn't Jesus? (Look at Matthew 23) In the case of any such true correction, the proper response is Godly repentance. Take a look at 2 Corinthians 7: 9Now I rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that ye sorrowed to repentance: for ye were made sorry after a godly manner, that ye might receive damage by us in nothing. 10For godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world worketh death. 11For behold this selfsame thing, that ye sorrowed after a godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, yea, what indignation, yea, what fear, yea, what vehement desire, yea, what zeal, yea, what revenge! In all things ye have approved yourselves to be clear in this matter. But with false guilt there is no hope of recovery short of discerning the Enemy's devices. You will be left feeling unworthy, unsuccessful in prayer, hindered by fear, driven to distracting measures to bury the guilt, restless and never satisfied, motivated by duty and never by honest love. There will be no release, as with true repentance and forgiveness. You will have become the Devil's unwitting "canal horse". Be warned! You must not become the victim of false guilt. A fleeting temptation is not the same as a program of repeated engagement in known sin. Pray for the Spirit's discernment to know the difference. Do not waste another day. Where clearly necessary, repent and be done with it. Jesus has other things in mind for you. He does not expect perfection. Only a heart that intends to move forward on the road with Him.
Not Optional It seemed like the cream-puff option A trip to my knees Petitions launched upward To Someone, Somewhere While life and duty Pressed forward and inward
And anger and self-pity Almost room-mates. But that Saturday In the workshop Knuckles rapped by a slipped wrench Curses uttered The “one day off” Becoming tiresome. Then two words Out of nowhere “Listen Son” “Whassat?” I couldn’t pass them by Not just foolish imagination And a strange sense Of a Presence. Then it seemed my own thoughts Had the podium ‘You complain Never content Self-pitying Blaming many others Marriage faltering Job on thin ice Never a new day Faced fresh.’ And again, “Listen Son And we’ll talk some.” That was the beginning
Workshop turned cathedral Time that I never calculated Turned holy. And He was there for me and mine The Glow returning. And I started To lift up others.
The Road Home
The land looks much the same And the peaceful country lane,
Winding gently past the fields my youth had known; And again I feel the breeze, Hear the birds, smell the trees; But I wonder if a welcome waits at home. Much too long ago it seems, I had yielded to false dreams And embarked a self-sufficient prince, I thought; On a pleasure-seeking quest, With a yearning for life’s best. Oh what woe and waste my birth-right soon had bought! All the women and the wine And the friends I thought were mine Quickly stripped my purse and pride down to the bone,. Then, quite destitute of aid In the mire my ways had made, I remembered bye-gone family times, alone. How the father of my youth Had displayed a love for truth, And for righteous work and ways to chart one’s course.
And no doubt reports had come Of the folly of his son, Of the family riches lost without remorse. Could I somehow still return? Could I live and lose and learn? Could I yet retrieve the joy which I once had? But, unworthy as a son, Let me just return as one Who will toil at servant’s chores and still be glad. As I pace the final mile, I am haunted all the while By the thoughts of how to say what must be said. It seems much too much to me To expect their sympathy, And the look upon my father’s face I dread. But my homecoming is this! First my father’s hug and kiss And his ring and robe placed on my wasted frame. Ere I barely can repent,
All the house-servants are sent To prepare a lavish feast held in my name. Oh, the depths of mercy shown By my father for his own; And what patient faith and prayers had led to this. I just had to turn around And abandon wayward ground To receive such sweet forgiveness and such bliss. (What had started out so fine But had left me tending swine Was a selfish heart beguiling me to roam. Thank you, Father God above For the chastening of your love, That I might find celebration in your home.)