The Clarification Of A Calling

 

The Clarification Of A Calling

     It was a Sunday morning.  Not wanting to attend, just attend church.  The call of the house was sucking me back into depression.  My cozy living room chair with coffee and a pharm ok’d coke worked to quicken this mortal body.  Not doing.  Metal music to the headset drove in force but the straw was yet to fall to this load.

     I saw him and I questioned.  Where was he this morning?  In the gathering of the saints, was he cold?  Punched around by chickens with gloves and blood on their beaks, was he finally left for dead?  In the corner, did his carcass lie?

      Anger lifted me.  Got me off this cushioned indifference.  The kingdom was calling.  A fight I did not start but I was willing to carry on.  Blood on the sword and it didn’t look like today was any different.

     We do not fight against flesh and blood.  No, we drive holes into those gawking and not taking the name of our Lord seriously.  Somehow they think snakes in a hole will escape judgement.  Fire awaits to consume their spiritual flesh into ash.  I do not know but forever is a long time on their plane of existence. And we come to conquer.

     Fear.  It goes forth as hornets. We clear the land.  Pull the stumps and burn them with the trunks.  Great fires with flames leaping to the clouds.  Our sacrifices we torch upon altars of self-exuberance.  See our dance?  Light pierces through the curse of night.  And we smell rancor and perfume our Lord’s forgiveness.  This new land will know soft grass abounding fit for the grazing lambs.  Wolves trapped and poisoned with strychnine and spring steel.  Can we imagine a greater hell for them?

      I don’t know his waking, but it is greater than yesterday.  Two chicks he guards under his wing.  Mama holds the nest together.  Power rests in her arms but the yoke strengthens as the oak cures.  Trampling through the night, mud clings but will not threaten.  It is not the Lord’s will.  He will see it through.  In Jesus, hope is known and leads as a ring in the nose of the master of house.  A gentle tug.  A little nudge.  A bloodied nose he will not feel.  Jesus does not work in manipulation.  A volunteer force He calls.  As long as He lives, the Shepherd will walk amongst the Flock and I am thrilled to help, be it a little bit.

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