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Thursday, December 19, 2013

THE HAZE

            In his gut Moss knew that in the nowhere before him lay somewhere in the haze... Binoculars to eyes penetrated it not.  Moss smiled.  Perhaps this day held danger enough to sate thrill, even peril enough to stab away the boredom of a mountain climber on flat land. "Haze in the desert," Moss stoked self, "means one of two, dust storm or mountain.  Either way, I win."

            Open truck tailgate pointed way to the haze.  Off road bike cranked, spit fire, roared off truck bed, screamed through air; tires ripped desert sand.  Dark rider twisted throttle till it twisted no more. And Moss jeered the unforgiving desert, spat at love lost, railed to heaven, "I need nothing nor nobody.  All I need is me!"

            Into the desert sand dark rider sped past cactus, past tumbleweed, past screech owl and rattler, but not past dark past.  Past that stalked him, caught him twixt talons that pierced deeper into his ribs with every jarring of rock neath the tires of the motorized beast he rode.  And the beast propelled Moss onward, pressed him toward date with fate... in the haze...

            On and on Moss rode.  "What lies waiting in the haze?"  On he rode.  "Will I be able to see once in?"  On he rode.  But the closer Moss got, the farther away the haze fled.  "Is it real?  Oasis or mirage? Dream or nightmare?  Friend or foe?"  The mind of Moss wandered, till time crushed in, till numbness crept from finger tips, through hands, up arms, into shoulders, up spine till paralyzing unsound mind.  And on and on Moss rode atop dirge wailing motor of beast...

            "Phrrreeeet, phom phom phom... phom!"  The beast sputtered and died.

            Moss woke.  Woke to silence, to lack of movement, to realization, "Out of gas..." Moss dismounted, kicked kick stand down, before noticing, "I can't see a thing."  And the dawn of the haze smote him, "I'm in!" I'm in the haze!"  Moss let go of handle bar, strode deeper into the haze... THUD!  "Owww!" Unforward progress ended at second step, ended hard, recoiled Moss back half a step.  "What the..."  He reached out, felt rock, "Its a cliff.  If I hadn't run out of gas, I'd be dead."

            Moss smiled, laughed, "Like I care."  In the haze he reached back, felt handlebars, slid hands to saddle bags, took out climbing gear, and to and up the cliff he climbed into the haze... "Challenging, not being able to see," Moss grunted out, "but nothing and nobody is going to stop me."

            Moss knew not how the hours flew, till his left hand reached up and in... to empty haze.  "The peak!" He climbed up and over the edge, rolled over on his back.  No rock poked him.  With right hand he felt out and around.  Moss contemplated out loud, "Smooth flat rock, too smooth, not the natural top of a cliff, more like..." Then he realized, "On the way up!  The stones were uniform, equally spaced.  I didn't catch on because they were so massive.  I'm on top of a building, or a wall, a bulwark?  Where am I?  What is this?  If only I could see through the haze."

            Moss lay there wondering, thinking, concluding, "If its a wall, the other edge of it can't be far."  He rolled over on stomach, inched forward into the haze for what he figured to be about twelve yards, till his fingers grasped it, "The other edge!  The other side!"

            As rapidly as an experienced but unable to see climber is capable, Moss was a tad quicker at rigging up the repelling gear.  The thirst for perilous discovery goaded Moss over the edge of the wall.

            Down... blindly down... further... further... further... until... end of repelling rope. "Stinking haze!  I got no idea how far down the bottom is.  If there is a bottom?"  Literally at the end of his rope, Moss murmured, "I'm too tired to climb back up."  He sighed, "So, time for a nap."  In two shakes Moss set up the netting for a nap.  And nap one exhausted Moss did, hanging there... in the net... at the end of his rope... in the haze...

            How long was he out?  Moss had no idea, before the voices woke him, especially one sweet voice... beckoning... enticing... inviting... luring...

            "Moss, sweet Moss, awaken... come to me... come to me..." soft coo coaxed...

            Moss half woke; longed to kiss sweet siren lips; reached out in the dream; and forgetting where suspended, in quest for siren lips leaned forward out of the netting, and fell... fell... fell... as echoed his last scream of life...

            More than one glass of iced tea and plate of barbecue with potato salad went flying.  All eyes jerked attention to the screamer, one confused and red faced Moss, flayed out on rear neath swinging back yard netting of hammock... and beneath the hands on hips of Mrs. Hazel Moss...

            "Just who were you puckering up those unfaithful lips for, Mossy boy?"  Queried Mrs. Hazel Moss. The interrogation had just begun... for at the end of the rope of life the haze burns away and all face the judgment...

            The steps of all who walk in self alone keep not in step with the walk of the way.  Why seek the haze of this world, which leads to fall; when tis better to seek and to see clearly in the light of Jesus love, which completes us...

            John 8:12 KJ, "Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life."

            Jeremiah 10:23 KJ, "O LORD, I know that the way of man is not within himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps."

            Proverbs 3:5 KJ, "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; lean not unto thy own understanding."

                                                           ...We all need Jesus...


                                                           Allegory & Scripture

                                                     pawpawcorner.blogspot.com



   



                                                   

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

BREAD OF LIFE

            Nose awakening homemade bread!  What a comfort!  So wafted away the Saturdays of my youth in the little town of Blessing, Texas.  Saturday, the day grandson crock churned sweet cream to butter. Saturday, the day Grandma Smith bake bread.  Bake bread in the oven of a cast iron wood burning stove, then set it to cool upon old oaken kitchen table.  What comfort, that fragrant fresh baked homemade bread! Grandma love baked in every loaf.  Comfort food indeed!

            More than a few years earlier in a land faraway, lay the little town of Bethlehem.  A humble little town amid hills of sheep and fields of grain.  A little town where grain twas ground; where bread twas bake. Bethlehem, the little town whose very name means House of Bread.

            Of celestial comfort, the babe born in Bethlehem, born in a stable, wrapped in swaddling cloths, laid in a manger, a feed trough where livestock ate hay and grain.  Christ Jesus, the Wonder of Wonders, our Redeemer, our Savior, the Bread of Life laid in a manger.  Where had lain grain now lay bread.  Humble bread in a humble manger that all the humble of heart, who eat thereof, inherit a seat at the wedding banquet of Jesus in Heaven.  The very love and grace of God the Father brought forth to earth in a lowly, yet precious manger, that sheep and donkeys and goats and maybe even camels had eaten grain from.  The manger now overflowing with the pure Bread of life, Emmanuel, God with us.  The manger, where all that eat thereof, eat of GOD.    (Luke Chapters 1 & 2)

            Jesus speaks in John 6:33,47,48,51 KJ, "The bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world.  47)Verily, verily I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life.  48)I am that bread of life.  51)I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world."

            So much for such a humble little manger to hold... that grace of God the Father, His very Son brought forth to earth as holy bread in a manger; that folks like sheep (the helpless), and folks like donkeys (the stubborn), and folks like goats (the ornery), and maybe even folks like camels (spitty complainers): might repent and eat of the Bread of life."

                                                God loves you

                                          Eat of the Bread of Life

                                              Bread of the spirit

                                                    ...Jesus...

                                          Comfort Food Indeed

                                                    

Thursday, December 5, 2013

PILLOW TALK

            "My arms, I can't feel my arms," the thought tore across his mind.  Panic was not quite there yet, but he was working on it, "Why can't I move?"  With every last ounce of willpower he concentrated to move right arm.  "Nothing!  What is happening to me?"  He could hear Jenny humming one of those new Christian songs round the bed as she dressed.  He tried to call out to her, but his lips, his jaw, his throat were frozen.  He teetered on edge, "Am I dead?  I can't be dead.  I hear Jenny."  He struggled to open eyes... but realized, "They are already open!  I'm blind... I'm blind... I can't breath!!"

            "Wake up, goof head," Jenny's voice pierced fear.  "George, you fell asleep with that pillow over your head... AGAIN!"  Jenny pulled the pillow off his face.  She shook him by arm and shoulder, "George, wake up..."

            "Angel?"  George whined, "Where am I?"

            "This ain't heaven, George," Jenny chuckled, "but it is Sunday, so get your rear end up."

            Now George did not particularly like going to church, but this particular day, church sounded like a pretty good idea. "I'm sure glad, I'm not dead," George said, rolled out of bed, fell hard face down on the floor. "Ouch!"

            "A bit overly dramatic, as usual," Jenny commented, while applying makeup from her perch in front of bureau mirror, "Just get ready, dear."

            Heavenly sunlight shined through the stained glass windows of the church that glorious day.  George and Jenny sat three rows from the front in mid pew.  And as the planned coincidence of heaven instructed, Pastor Mark approached the podium carrying visual aide.  He held the pillow up for all to see, as he introduced sermon topic, "No amount of pillows over your head will hide you from the world." He paused, put the pillow over his eyes, continued, "But a pillow over the head will hide the world from you, so that it can sneak up... right behind you... and GET-CHA!" Pastor Mark tossed the pillow into the congregation.

            To George that pillow seemed to float toward him like slow motion on a mission.  George fought off attacking pillow more than just a tad too effeminately almost hyperventilating in the process, much to the good natured amusement of folks in pews all about.  Jenny yanked renegade pillow off hubby, turned red, poked elbow into his ribs and mumbled under breath, "Get a grip, George!"

            Pastor Mark continued, "So, what should we do with the pillow?  How about putting that pillow under your weary head to give it rest, and to see... see near 4,000 years ago... see Jacob, the son of Isaac and the grandson of Abraham, the father of God's chosen children... see Jacob in journey passing.  Genesis 28:10-19 paraphrased: In journey passing from Beersheba toward Haran, Jacob stopped for the night and used a stone for his pillow.  And Jacob dreamed and did see a ladder, a stairway set up on earth and reaching heaven with angels of God ascending and descending upon it. And when he arose in the early morning, Jacob realized that this stairway is also the gate, the very door to heaven.  Jacob therefore raised up that stone pillow as a pillar, and anointed that pillar with oil, and named the place where it stood Bethel, meaning House of God."

            Pastor Mark paused, let it all settle in, or as in George's case unsettle in.

            "Pillow to Pillar!" Pastor Mark continued, "Stone pillow risen as anointed stone pillar!  Children I ask you:  Who is our faith?  Who is the solid stone pillar, the cornerstone of the House of God?"

            "Jesus," the children in the congregation spoke forth.

            "All who are children of God, I ask you:  Who is the Rock of our Salvation?" Pastor Mark urged.

            "Jesus!" The audience spoke forth, some shouted.

            "Children of God, I ask you: Who is the ladder... Who is the very stairway between earth and heaven... Who is the gate, the very door, to go through, and to enter in, with the Living God, Our Father in heaven...

            "J-E-S-U-S !!!"  The congregation roared, rose to feet and praised the Son of God.

            After a time the congregation hushed, sat, eager to hear.  Pastor Mark clung to the podium, barely able to stand.  "Jesus is the stairway and the doorway between earth and heaven that Jacob saw in a dream, as recorded in Genesis Chapter 11.  But keep in mind also that in dream passing, Jacob received the blessing of faith, and in that new morning light, raised his stone 'pillow' of rest in memorial as the pillar of Bethel, the House of God.

            Pastor Mark paused, began, "2000 years later, consider Jesus, who after having taught by the sea shore most of the day, Jesus saying to his disciples about the sea before them, 'Let us pass to the other side.' And in passing, behold on a 'pillow' in the stern of the ship, Jesus rested asleep, while arose a great storm of wind and waves that beat into the ship till near sinking.  And fearing for their very lives, the disciples awaken Jesus from his 'pillow'... And Jesus, the very Stairway to heaven, the Rock of our Salvation, the Pillar of God's house, Jesus 'arises' and rebukes the evil winds and perverse waves of tempest tossed sea with these words: "Peace be still."  And in the great calm, the great stillness, Jesus asks his disciples, actually asks us all: 'Why are you so fearful?  How do you have so little faith?' And the awed disciples wonder, 'What manner of man is this that even the wind and the waves obey him?' "

            After a moment, Pastor Mark reflected, "So, dear children of God, even though we live in the tempest tossed perverse sea of this world, why be fearful, why hide your head beneath a pillow, when faith in Christ Jesus makes possible even the soft bellows of heaven to be our pillows..."

            With Jesus in her heart, Jenny hugged the arm of her husband and lay her head upon his shoulder.  And George breathed easy... blinded by fear... never more... For George had passed to the other side... with Jesus...

            Genesis 28:10-19;  John 1:47-51;  Mark 4:35-41: (Genesis 28:12 with John 1:51)

Postscript:
            Of all the postscripts you will ever read, please take time to read and be blessed by one of God's 'planned coincidences' in the Bible:  From the first book of the Old Testament compare Genesis 28:11 with Matthew 11:28 in the first book of the New Testament... and rest peacefully on the pillow of your faith...

                                                            Allegory & Scripture
                                                             
                                                      pawpawcorner.blogspot.com