He Will Drive, I Will Influence
He
Will Drive, I Will Influence
I have seen Adolf Hitler behind the
podium. He was a passionate man. Hate?
Think so. Did he prophecy? Probably.
He had spiritual problems I think.
He spoke under different spirits.
Not so with God. When His Holy Spirit speaks, it is to the health
of everyone. Even to those who hate God.
He speaks in kind ways to convince them
of His love for them. Such is God. Such are the sons of God who love peace and are
propelled by this axiom that governs their being.
I don’t think Mr. Hitler knew much about
Godly peace. I see a small boy, violated
and taking out his revenge upon the entire world. People are marked that way. Early fits grow into disasters as one sinks
his family down a bunker and takes cyanide to end the story. I thought that was the tale. The tale of Mr. Hitler.
How many of us are bent off to destruction
at an early time? The formative years
become tragedy as we learn to doubt and fear.
No one person is 100% worthy of our faith. All will fail us at sometime. Parents, teachers, church goers. All fail.
Such is not with Jesus.
How do we introduce our young to the
Constant? Through make-believe Bible
stories where Mom and Dad slip the money under the covers with the tooth
fairy? Does Santa Claus come to visit
when the Easter Bunny comes out with chocolate?
What is reality to our little ones?
CONFUSION!
CONFUSION! We court this spirit
as some ignorant dance played out on stage for our prodigy to behold. Hasn’t our God given the gifts? Has He not entrusted the course of this
world, so to say, to loving hands so apt to act? Where then are the mentors?
We do not need anymore fairy-tale god
mothers with gnomes and kids playing under the bridge. This world is scary enough without adults
writing ‘R’ rated bedtime stories. In
fact, do we want to be another society which breeds more Hitlers?
I used to be scared as a child. At night, I would wrap my covers securely
about my head that only my nose would stick out. This procedure was sure to save me from Dracula. Where in the world did I come up with that? My mind at seven had not been to Transylvania. I just knew the threat was real.
Do I blame the T.V.? Lax parents letting me go in limbo? Late night fright nights? No, the rubbish was just there. It permeated the playground. Death with killing seemed to abound. I used to steal baby sparrows from their
nests and pound their brains with a hammer.
Unresolved anger? Possibly. A psychiatrist may spend days figuring out my
motive. Mother-hate?
I do not know. But, for actuality, it was commonplace. War and killing were favorite past times. Sure
we played Wild Kingdom with pretend animals about the yard, but Aggression was
their tempting our imaginations as I lit fires and destroyed things with
fireworks.
I was a boy! Oh the answer. I had been hardwired by the
Creator to be rambunctious. Surely He
failed when He knit me in my mother’s womb.
Blame God.
Blame God, World. Hitler was not to blame. He was just a victim
of his environment. His mistrust only
stemmed from an erring childhood. His
pyramid of needs were not fully met as Mr. Maslow would say. Under his foundation, a crucial block gave
way and caused his brain to snap like a pit bull that threatened my wife
recently. Geeze, are we all like
dogs? Walking time bombs only at the
mercy of the day?
Preposterous! Let’s get back to the reality of scripture so
revealed by a timeless God. He is the Judge. He will hold every man and woman accountable
for every act they have done in the flesh.
Some to life. Others to
destruction. He does not mince words
here. Even if we are flying ninety down
the interstate with feet hanging free out the window, we will all hit the
concrete wall of death in His time, at His choosing, and if He tarries
suffering to wait to execute the wrath of His Father upon a despondent people
taken up in rage with a serpent-leader.
How will Jesus come? How will He come to you? Please get your business straight before Him
while it is still called Today. Sin is
ugly and requires the Price. A target
have you not seen on our Brother’s forehead?
He died that we may live.
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