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Enter into the Kingdom by the Blood of the Lamb |
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Most Recent Post In many dissertations, parables, and examples Jesus, God the Son, declares the nature, reality and overshadowing presence of the Kingdom of God. From the time I received Jesus Christ as my Savior at the age of five and through the precious washing of the Lamb through baptism when I was twelve, I have been on a journey to find my mission, purpose and ultimate deliverance in God's ever present Kingdom. Beyond our primary purpose, which is to Worship the Lord our God in Spirit and in truth, there is for each of His disciples a mission. For those who have entered into the Kingdom of Light since 1948, the year the reformation of Israel as a Nation occurred, we have been hyper aware of the historical empires who have tried to take the Kingdom of Heaven by force, and even more aware in these "Last Days" of those minor empires and warring factions both domestic and abroad, who are burning down everything to take Heaven and make it their own. But even as Lucifer failed and was cast out of heaven, so are pagan emperors failing even as their lives are wasting away to nothing. Our last mission as the Church of Christ is to invite men and women to give up their own devices for creating a "Heaven On Earth," and come to the One who actually rules everything. Jesus is coming back. He may return in the next moment, the next hour or the next day. No one knows. But we are the generation that has seen the fulfillment of nearly all the prophecies that proceed His coming back for His Bride. To God, the Sovereign and all powerful God of the Universe be all praise, honor and glory. May God bless all those who read, understand and are putting into action the applications for life that may be found written in God's scriptures. "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which is indeed the least of all the seeds; but when it is grown it is greater than the herbs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches." Jesus around the Sea of Galilee [Matthew 13:31-32 English Standard Version (ESV) of the Bible.] Psalm 137:1 Psalm 137:1 There we sat down by the rivers of Babylon; also, we wept when we remembered Zion. 2 We hung our lyres on the willows in its midst. 3 For there our captors demanded a song from us; and our plunderers demanded gladness, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. 4 How shall we sing Jehovah's song in a foreign land? 5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget. 6 If I do not remember you, let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth; if I do not ...if I do not prefer Jerusalem above my chief joy. 7 Remember, O Jehovah, the sons of Edom in the day of Jerusalem; who said, 'Make it bare! Make it bare, even to the foundation of it!' 8 O daughter of Babylon, O destroyed one! Blessed is he who will repay to you your reward which you rewarded to us. 9 Blessed is he who seizes and dashes your little ones against the stones. Next Entries |
Kingdom – A Last Performance In the shadows of the sanctuary, as she had been for the last three weeks, Kelly sat with her usual look of detached disinterest. Pastor Harold was a relentless bull dog chewing on the scriptural text for that evening's gathering. Harold nibbled at the bottom line of his talk for nearly fifteen minutes until he savagely bit into the meat contained in Jesus' own words: Luke 12:3-5 3 Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops. 4 And I say unto you my friends, Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. 5 But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear him. Harold nodded to me as he closed, “If God is watching your every word and loves you enough to give you this warning about what you say, how much more will he be watching your every action? Fear God! Fear God! Fear God! Not just tonight listening to me, but fear Him in every part of your life. He will judge every one in the end, and those who are lawless will not have a place in the Kingdom of God.” On cue I stepped up to the podium and ripped into the song I had been practicing for a month. It was a sweet little cover of Bobby Fuller's “I Fought the Law.” Voice, fingers, strings, and rhythms strummed to the beat of another realm that converged with my hates, loves, sorrows, joys and hungers. For two minutes I was out of my body and head and drew from the shadows of the sanctuary the one girl who I would have never expected to be moved. Kelly. As the last moments of concussive pounds on the guitar rang true she rose from her chair and walked towards the front. “I never knew,” she said as she joined me at the front. The meeting was closed and the other kids were applauding and laughing and shouting out the last lines of the song. Her hand touched mine for a moment as her tormented face, young and pretty seemed to peer through her own place of darkness directly at me. “I didn't know you could do that.” “It was nothing,” I said pulling my hand away from her as though my skin had been burned. I searched her face. In an instant I recognized what I had done. It was something I had been working on for over a year. I wanted to produce out of nothing a devoted fan. I had drawn her out of the shadows. It seemed she had been unaffected by everything in this world until tonight. And then... All the chords, notes, scales, lyrics, pretending, acting, and choreography brought her youth, adoration and vulnerability into my sphere of influence. For good or bad, she was opening her life to me. I never despised myself more than I did at that moment. I'm not sure what I said to her after that but the result was I never performed again as I did that night. Twelve miles away, my mother sensed some disturbance in my universe and was prepared for me when I got home. “I don't think you should be a part of that youth group anymore,” was all she said to me. I added a dab of depression to my already forlorn appearance. “Alright,” I said and went to my room. There was nothing left in the world that I cared to fight for anymore. The one thing I had been working towards in music seemed vile to me now. There was nothing in this world I wanted. I didn't realize that I could be more resigned to the things around me more than I had been the week before. But it turned out I could and so I was. It would be years before I truly understood what happened that night, but now I know. That night, during my performance, and for the first time, the Holy Spirit of God had come to give me direct guidance. He used my feelings to show me graphically something repugnant to my Father God. I believe God had shown something to my mother as well. All of the fullness of who the world could say was me was now crammed into my Secret Vault. But mom knew there would be girls. She was determined there would be no girls. To that end, every avenue that could offer an interaction with the opposite sex, outside of school, had been cut off except “Youth Group.” That now too was closed. Despite her efforts, I was learning ways to get past my parental imposed sainthood. In fact I was bending more and more of my law constricted will to embrace all of the libertine ideas and fantasies of my day and age. The 60s. For one moment, horrifyingly surreal, God did in fact show me that I could trust Him to lead me only into “paths of righteousness.” If I would listen and obey. So much pain would have been avoided in my life if I would have continued to obey the Holy Spirit's leading. But instead I “dumbed” myself up to God's Word and learned to over-ride the soft voiced counsel of the Holy Spirit. In time my heart would be as hard as the granite walls of my Secret Vault and void of all peace. And the Kingdom of God slipped away from me, out of my grasp, further and further away. ♫~ Kenword~♫    |
When Burger Chef rolled into town, I, to my great surprise, got a job flipping hamburgers. I worked after school three days a week and every other Saturday. It was here the senior pastor of my church, Jacob Willis, agreed to meet me and the Burger Chef super deluxe dinner special. The afternoon crowd was small and with the promise from my manager of an extended break and a chocolate shake in hand I went to sit across from Reverend Willis near the front windows. “I see Burger Chef is treating you well,” Pastor Willis began after sampling a few french fries and a hearty bite of his burger. “Work here definitely has its perks.” “And how's everything with school?” “Just about average I guess.” “Pastor Harold tells me you've been doing a stupendous job leading youth group but that you had to step down now. Was it your job, or school?” I felt cornered with the question. I didn't want to get into my strained relationship with my family and I didn't want to lie either. “I think my family was a bit concerned,” I finally said. “Well I understand the need to make some spending money and of course you need to focus as much time on your studies as you can, but I'd like to talk to your parents about you coming back to the youth group.” I smiled at the spiritual leader of our little flock. I would have loved to have heard that conversation. “Would you mind waiting until after I graduate? I might be able to convince them to let me come back once I'm complete with school.” “Well, that would be fine except I would like to tie it into another conversation I want to have with your parents. I've talked a lot to Harold and some of the other youth leaders who have visited our church as you led the youth group and there seems to be some consensus that you would do well in the ministry. Perhaps as a missionary, or music pastor or even a youth pastor. What do you think? Have you ever considered that you might be called to be a leader in the church?” The base of my neck at the top of my spine experienced a slight spasm. “Sure,” I said. “Well no. Maybe. It was a long time ago.” “You should think about it. I think God is calling you to be a pastor. You know it's a calling right?” “Sure. Well? Maybe...are you sure?” “Let me give you the pitch okay?” Reverend Willis had some mechanism in his head that rolled out words like a frenetic "Bingo Announcer" conveying the truth in the caged letters plopping mysteriously into his opened palm: “B7. O63. N39” “I think you'd be great. Our denomination's college is in Eugene, Oregon right? Well I have family there. I've already talked to a third cousin of mine up there and he would be glad to give you room and board for almost free.” “Really?” The spasm in my neck migrated to a spot in my right shoulder. “I checked with the Burger Chef people and they expect to have several openings in their Eugene store in the fall. They made it clear that you could almost transfer from this location to that one with no problem.” He paused and seemed to evaluate my unspoken language. I'm sure I hadn't blinked since he said the word “missionary.” “The school tuition would be paid for by our church's denomination. You could complete the whole course work in under three years. Then who knows? By then we may even be able to bring you on here full time as an associate pastor. How about that?” “Sure,” I said, “well...okay, maybe.” My list of objections to his plan was a long and fully detailed one, but it didn't need to be. Number one on the list was the most obvious and would have been enough to keep me from considering his proposal. I wasn't perfect. In our church's denomination a Reverend was perfect. A Bible scholar and sin free. I was a sinner, a pretender, and a joker. A fake. I was also advancing towards a hedonistic life style that would only need three years of military training to perfect. His pitch done, a serene look of complete contentment arose from somewhere in Pastor Willis' heart. The look he gave me never wavered. It was filled with so such compassion I felt the love of God in a way I had never experienced before. The stress in my shoulder and neck vanished. “Maybe I don't need to be perfect,” I thought. “This man knows God. I'm sure all of the vile stuff in me could be changed. We're talking about God after all. If he wants a flawed teen-aged boy to be a preacher man can't He change them?” Unbelievably I was beginning to wonder about Reverend Willis' proposition. Another consideration arose in that moment. A far less altruistic consideration. It was 1966 in America. American youth were being drafted by the truck load. There was one honorable way to obtain a deferment. Stay in school. Reverend Willis' suggestion was more than a response to what may or may not have been the call of God. It was a life boat to ferry me to safe ground far away from service in the infantry. Reverend Willis never got to share his proposition with my parents. His message that next Sunday, either ironically or with incredible foresight was based on one of Jesus' most searing parables which I have come to call: “The Weeds In The Wheat.” It was a short message. First he read Matthew 13:24 The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man which sowed good seed in his field: 25 But while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat, and went his way. 26 But when the blade was sprung up, and brought forth fruit, then appeared the tares also. “We know who the tares are in our life don't we?" Reverend Willis attacked in a stern voice. "They are scoffers concerning the things of God and His Holy Spirit, as if Jesus wasn't truly God and Man! and as if the Holy Spirit does not live in the heart of every Christian man and woman. Hah! They mock the things of God, not just with their foolish empty-headed notions, but with their venomous speech and murderous actions.” Reverend Willis summed up a few thoughts about the “tares” and then closed with Jesus' own words with no prayer to explain the final fate of those among us who insist on being evil: (41) The Son of man shall send forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and them which do iniquity; (42) And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. (43) Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear. (Matthew 13:41 – 43 KJV) After Reverend Willis left the pulpit, there was no closing hymn or announcements, and the entire congregation remained seated. Among the youth, who were perpetually in the dark about adult matters, there were some who repeated bits of the gossip they had overheard. “There is going to be a vote.” I had not been let in on all the details of what dreadful thing Reverend Willis had done to unhinge the minds of over half of the church board, but never before or ever since had I experienced such a turbulent church meeting. After the opening accusations, like the ferocious “Caaawww! Caaawww's!” of an enraged crow embodied in an ancient elder, were blasted at the Senior Pastor Jacob Willis, an even older and nastier crow-elder rose up to take a stand. With even louder “Caaawww! Caaaawww's.” he exhorted the forum with more venomous accusations. By the time a third crow-elder arose to testify, my mother was sobbing. As I looked around the sanctuary, a place of worship, comfort and peace, I noticed that many men and women in the church were hunched forward in the their pews crying with no restraint. The children who were in the congregation picked up on the emotions of their parents and many of them were crying as well. As for those who agreed with the elders, their faces looked straight ahead at the tribunal and never blinked. They had barely been patient enough, but they could easily wait a few more minutes before hanging their shepherd, their buddy, their chum. The chairman of the elder board announced the time to vote, counted the votes and announced the results. Reverend Willis was dismissed. When the convicted felonious ex-Senior Pastor of our renowned Christian fellowship offered gently and serenely to offer a few words of consolation and comfort to the congregants, he was politely told to “shut up and shove off,” which he did with an amazing amount of grace and even, what seemed to me to be, a bit of joy. The congregation split after that. My parents never again darkened the door of that church. And I never was enlightened as to what had caused the dismissal of a beloved servant of God. It wasn't long after the departure of the Willis family that I sensed there was a similar bullet waiting for me if I answered the “call.” I wasn't a praying man, but I had been in communication with God since my first encounter with the meanness of this world. Those communications were in the form of vows. If I was hurt by someone I would make a vow to not be like them. When I realized the amount of pain children caused their parents I vowed to never have children. When I saw what poverty was doing to decent men and women I vowed to be rich. When the sheep of a small congregation in my home town skewered their shepherd, their spiritual leader and friend, I vowed to never be a pastor. I prepared to join the United States Army. ♫~ Kenword~♫ |
I returned home from “the war” just after Independence Day, 1970. I didn't expect bands or celebrations of any sort, but I certainly didn't expect to find a note written in my dad's hand on my old bunk either. The note explained that he and mom would be coming back from a Hoe Down in Eureka Sunday night. “And oh, by the way, could I cook them up one of my favorite recipes from the old days?” It was hotter than the surface of the sun in the valley that Wednesday I arrived home. Now it looked like I had four days to get a few things settled. Family reunions could wait. I walked the old homestead for a few hours that afternoon rehearsing in my mind my assault on the academic world. I had always been a good learner, but I had lacked the desire to excel. I found that desire somewhere in Southeast Asia. I wasn't going to be a pastor, but that didn't mean I couldn't be a teacher. A teacher was what I would be. No. Wait. A teacher with a red Firebird convertible. That's what I was going to be. A teacher with a red Firebird convertible would be very cool. The Firebird part of my plan was easy. I found a used '67 in pretty good condition on a small lot in Laytonville. My neighbor worked in the lumber mill there and gave me a ride to the lot. The dealer was asking too much, but with a few trinkets and souvenirs from the war and a lot of begging I got his price into the narrow range my budget could handle. On Friday I enrolled for the fall semester at a college south of my home town; shopped my home town like a tourist, and went about preparing for my parent's homecoming. The greetings from my parents when they came home Sunday were most cordial with happy hellos and a handshake. We settled into a nice meal of Lasagna, salad and French bread topped off with apple pie and ice cream. I was cordially complimented on my culinary skill. Cordially complimented on my health. Cordially awarded praise for my choice in a fine American made automobile. (My brother was the scourge of the family for buying a Volkswagen.) My heart swelled with the warmth of hearth and home. Who needs the joys of being a son, when a person can be the head chef for some strangers from another planet who admire great America cuisine from Italy. My mother looked at my dad throughout our quiet dinner. A crucial moment in mom's conscience finally materialized. “Didn't Walt and Judy look wonderful at the dance last night dear?” “You remember Walt and Judy don't you?” I felt my mother's eyes on me and was a bit surprised. She hardly ever looked directly at me. I could not even remember if she looked at me in our last conversation when I said, “good bye. I'm going to the war now.” “Walt's the real estate agent you met when you were home last,” my father said. “Their son went into the Navy about the same time...well you know, the same time you went into the Army.” It seemed mom's voice was losing some strength, though as I looked at her face I could sense she was trying to express some joy. “Anyway son,” dad continued, “Walt found a beautiful piece of property just above Ashland, and it was the perfect place to build our retirement home.” “We didn't think you would mind,” my mother smiled and pushed a pudgy hand towards mine, “so your dad and I thought why not use some of the funds you were sending home. So there. We've bought a bit of heaven and you have helped us do it.” Every month for the 36 months I had spent in the Army I had sent home a $25 savings bond. As instructed by the military each bond was purchased in my name and in my father's name in case I wasn't able to return. Either of us could sign for the money at maturity or cash out the bond immediately and forfeit the bond's full value. Dad left the table for a moment and returned with a photo album. “Here are some of the pictures of the property.” “It really is a beautiful spot, and it is the perfect place to build a home or put one of those new mobile homes on.” “We put our camping trailer up there for now,” my dad said pointing to the picture of it tucked into a massive stand of fir trees. “How much?” I finally managed to ask. “We had to come up with $700 for the down payment,” mom said. “So we used all but six of the bonds you were sending home,” my dad said, apparently wanting a pat on the back for his amazing financial management skills. One of my great failings at school was in the area of mathematics. Economics was another. But it didn't take me long to figure out that instead of living in a nice dorm at college I would be sleeping in my Firebird and getting a job. “Now I know what you're thinking son,” my dad continued, “but we had to move fast. The price of real estate has been going through the roof and we have to be prepared for our future.” Our future. Actually I was thinking, and I don't know why, I was thinking of a night. It was a night I spent out in the boonies of Viet Nam with an infantry patrol because company "C", during the serving of their dinner came under fire and the UH 1 “Huey” Gunship that was to be my ride back to base camp could not come back to pick up a lowly cook for fear of being shot down. I was thinking how on that particular day it was 110 degrees in the shade and there was no shade, and how I had dressed in the lightest uniform I could get away with. I was thinking about how on that night a squall came in from the north and within minutes I was drenched. I was thinking about how I shivered in a shallow sandy hole all night long while the GI next to me kept muttering, “They're out there. You see 'em? I tell you they're out there.” I was thinking about how much my gut was knotted up with so much rage for being left behind. For having to deal with my cowardice; to deal with all of my nightmares of being blown to bits and never knowing what life would be like with the perfect girl, job and home. And what would it be like for my soul after my death? Would I meet God in his glorious Kingdom in Heaven or be sent to the fires of hell with all my faults and iniquity for eternity. I'm pretty sure dad had no idea what I was thinking. A shiver went through my body as I looked at my dad and smiled. He would never know the devastation he had just unleashed in my soul. I wouldn't say. I wouldn't show. I just smiled. My mom watched my reaction to dad's explanation. Her cheeks swelled up with her best chipmunk impression satisfied that I was taking it well. She switched on her “have-I-got-deal-for-you” face and pursed her lips making her words sharp enough to pierce armor. “You have a wonderful skill now. It's what you wanted to be before you left home. I mean that's what you wanted right? A way to make a good living. And you know what we found out last night?” mom looked at dad to make sure he was in the monologue. “Judy said her brother's restaurant is looking for a cook. Its at their lodge in Regina Heights. And guess what? The job comes with room and board. It's perfect. I mean its exactly what you hoped for right?” “Walt is suppose to get back to me tomorrow,” my dad added. “He said all they needed to do was set up an appointment for you to go and see...what was his name, Lil?” “Brandon. Brandon Wilkes.” I wasn't completely sure but I felt that I was complete with everything to do with family. At least for one evening. “Well it sounds like it is all working out the way its suppose to,” I said. "Would anyone like some more pie or ice cream?” “This was really a superb dinner son,” my dad said. “You've really developed your gift. Lil?” “I'll have a bit more ice cream.”   ~Kenword~ |
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