A Marked Man

“A marked man.” Tonight at our weekly prayer fellowship, I heard these words take on life down deep. While others were offering up their petitions around me, these three little words were hatched in my spirit. I can’t say I heard them out loud but I can say with certainty that the “Still, Small Voice” found me yet again.

What could these tri-monosyllabic words mean? My mind did a google of its own and immediately snagged a couple of Scriptures burrowed in its vast storehouse of information. I believe the Spirit illuminated these texts and they hung there before my heart, flapping in the breezes of holy wind, awaiting my capitulation.

RORSCHACH AND ABEDNEGO?

First up was the reference that describes a holy man dressed in linen holding an inkhorn at his side. To this man, the Lord commanded he “go through the City and find those who cry and weep over the abominations of the land, and who seek Me, and put a mark on their foreheads.” The inkblot would stay the hand of judgment and let the wearer go free.

It is significant that the word “mark” in Hebrew is tav, the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet. The man was told to “put a tav” on their foreheads. Literally, put a cross there (written as an ‘x’ or ‘t’). It is also telling that in the midst of judgment (the six men) is this interlude of grace. The foreheads of these faithful ones were God’s canvas on which to paint His mark of redemption. When judgment came near, it was asked, “What do you see in this inkspot?” and if it saw the mark of a crucified life, it would pass on. Continue reading A Marked Man

Jesus Is My Nightlight

Something weird and a bit unsettling happened just moments ago. Snugly nestled for the night, the house all peaceful and still with Maybell (our accidental canine) tucked in and Sandy at her late-shift place of work, I sighed and laid my head back. All alone. Suddenly from the front of the house, I heard a faint sound. I lifted my head off the pillow and craned my neck to listen more closely and a growing sickness rose within as it dawned on me what it was.

The CD player in the kitchen began playing.

There were the diminutive sounds of a piano at first, then the airy rising of the woodwinds—signature classical sound. Only, I wasn’t enjoying the music. My stomach knotted and my heart raced as I pictured a hockey-masked intruder with murder on his mind having some fun with a handicapped man. Too many gory thrillers from my youth, I know. As I peck this out, the music is still playing and I am still uncertain because this has never happened before. But I think I know what is going on. Sandy must’ve put a CD in the carousel and inadvertently programmed it to play at midnight. No, she is not a prankster, and, yes, she will be horrified to know she caused her husband untold fright. It’s all okay. I’ve got Jesus here with me and He’s my Nightlight (Ps 27:1). But not only that, He’s also my Bodyguard.

I could be wrong, but I think He likes classical music.

G’night…

P.S. The music just quit, and so did my heart. I’m not kidding. Just like that.

P.S.S. It’s now 2:30 a.m. and I’m being serenaded again…well, isn’t that just grand…

The River Is Here

Please note the date of the following article and the media that reported it. This did not happen 150 years ago, but only months ago and yet it has the “feel” of some revivals I have read about. At least the leading edge of one. God is giving grace to our land and answering the cries of a faithful remnant of intercessors by sending seasons of refreshing to many who are thirsting for Him and turning from that which is lifeless and of this world. Change us, Lord. May we not settle for being stirred only.

We have preached and settled for a humanistic “gospel” that would make us the recipient; the end-all, be-all, the center, measure and focus. A gospel that makes it all about us (God forbid).  A gospel that makes us long for heaven rather than Him. No, beloved, it is all for the glory of Christ Jesus! He is the eternal Prize! He is Lord above all lords and King over all kings. Before the Lord, all of man’s kingdoms crumble to dust and are blown away. His River is Life and everything it touches will live!*livingwater.jpg

“THOUSANDS TURN OUT for REVIVAL, RIVER BAPTISMS”

by Susan Reinhardt,

-Asheville Citizen-Times, Sept 11, 2006.

CANE RIVER

Diane and John O’Shields of Burnsville were first in line and had more than one reason for getting wet in what some revival officials say was North Carolina’s largest river baptism. The baptism came as the faithful stretched into six weeks what was conceived as a two-week Cane River Tent Revival led by the Rev. Ralph Sexton Jr., of the ministry by the same name. No one in this small idyllic Yancey County town just northeast of Asheville has ever seen such a sight

Crowds swelled on each side of the riverbank. Wearing a black pantsuit and pearl earrings, she wiped tears from her eyes as she waved at watching loved ones. She and her husband held hands, closed their eyes and mouths and briefly disappeared under the water. The couple, married for 21 years, decided let this chance in the water with a reverend, the presence of God and countless witnesses work double-duty. “It’s our Baptism and wedding at the same time,” she said, her dress soaked and her face salted with tears. “We weren’t married in a church, so this is our marriage ceremony, too.” Theirs was just one among of the hundreds of stories and reasons people had for wandering into the waters, wetting their Sunday best or blue jeans. Dee-Dee Carver said the devil had hold of her the past two years. It’s not that she sinned or carried on wildly, she said. She’d just turned her back on God. Continue reading The River Is Here