Prophecy Archives - call me pasturescott

a little wine for your troubles

Today I’m braving a huge ask of the Father.

I find myself emboldened to do it based on a morning reading from one of the ancient prophets. No doubt we’re all familiar with the famous verse where the Father invites Jeremiah to,

Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.
Jeremiah 33:3, ESV

As happens so many times (for you too, I’d wager), I had just unrolled on the Lord a heavy burden before turning to the Word. In short order I sensed the Spirit opening to me the Father’s heart in the very place I was reading.

Here I found my Ebenezer.*

The Lord challenged Jeremiah to do something bold, mind-stretching, and unthinkable. He invited the prophet to ‘accost’ him with a demand (that’s the Hebrew sense of the word); to open his mouth and throw up on the Almighty all that was in his heart.

Don’t hold back, my son, he commanded. So I’m not.

If you set the passage in its context you’ll find this is part of an ongoing dialogue between Potentate and prophet. In verse one we see the call for holy boldness is embedded in the “second” of three separate promises made to Jeremiah.

The first promise comes in the previous chapter:

Then the word of the Lord came to Jeremiah: “I am the Lord, the God of all mankind. Is anything too hard for me?…”
Jeremiah 32:26-27, NIV

I’m not going to tell you what I’m asking of the Father but I can tell you the huge favor I’m regurgitating on him is not for me but for another. This person needs a miracle and they needed it yesterday.

“Is anything too hard for Me?”

The answer, we already know in our hearts, is no. Nothing is outside or beyond him. When life gives you lemons, God makes us a pitcher of lemonade. Or wine, as the next promise elucidates.

The second promise is sweet to the palate. God tells Jeremiah to “call out,” unload upon, barrage the Almighty with his request.

You mean it, Lord? Jeremiah must have wondered.

“I most definitely do…and what’s more, when you do it, I’ll take you down to My wine cellar and produce the finest vintage** you can imagine!”

We have the promise that (whatever we ask) the Father won’t ridicule us or tell us we’re stupid. He’s never in a “condescending” mood toward his trusting children. Ask, he tells us. Go ahead, he proffers. I dare you. I want you to “blow up my feed.”

What a picture. We share with him an agony of soul and he responds by placing a glass of his choicest wine in our hands. What does it mean? It means we have royal access to his vault and whatever burdens we bring are met with heavenly vintage.

Wine is often code for “joy” in the scriptures. Rest assured, beloved, your Father trades in joy and he means to get you in the same mood and mindset he’s in.

I said there are three promises given Jeremiah (and by extension, US too, as each can be borne up by scripture) in this running dialogue. The third promise reads this way:

…keep watching! I will restore this city and heal the wounds of My people. I will lavish them with peace and stability.
Jeremiah 33:6, Voice

Restore.

Heal.

Lavish.

Jeremiah was weeping for the City. He longed to see the wicked removed and the holy shine come back. He was sick of the lies and deception from the most powerful voices and wanted them muted. He yearned to see all wrongs righted and a Righteous Day return.

God said, Keep your eyes on the City. It’s still MY City. You’ll be tempted to lose hope but I have plans for My City. Keep watching. You’ll see it in due time if you don’t lose faith.

Today I am arming myself with this trio of promises and storming the throne room. I’m asking God to uphold the cause of a wounded soul and restoring to them all the years the locusts have ravaged. I have something very specific in mind. And bold. I believe it’s a righteous ask. Amen.

And, as Paul counseled Timothy, I invite you to drink some wine for what’s ailing you. Perhaps leave a “pray with me” or a “pray for me” (nothing more need be shared) in the comments?

In any case, I pray for him to restore, heal, and lavish Himself for you in your great hour of need.

Selah, beloved.

*Ebenezer means ‘Stone of help’

** “hidden” is synonymous with ‘inaccessible’ but the Hebrew adds the wonderful nuance of ‘vintage’ (as in grapes)

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uh oh, did i receive “the mark”?

My first mistake was getting on Twitter. My second, reading the comments from armchair prophets. A particular tweet asked if Christians might not be dogwhistled by the implications of vaccinating against the COVID-19 virus and how that squares with end-time prophecy, particularly the famous one about “the mark of the beast.”

I will admit, the thread did give me pause. While it’s a safe bet Moderna is not the mark, I wondered internally if we’re not being pre-conditioned for something more sinister down the road.

In recent days we’ve heard the Biden administration float the idea of a “vaccine passport.“ I haven’t researched it, but it’s obviously a way to greenlight the ones vaccinated back into the commercial mainstream. Get a jab and we’ll let you get your groceries. More nefariously, such a thing slams the door shut on those without their papers and leaves them out in the cold to fend for themselves regarding medical care and other life necessities.

There’s a little argument these days about everything going on in culture today being a slippery slope, so I would not doubt for a moment that the public is being trained like seals to comply with the even more restrictive measures that are coming down the pike. But…

In the category of “this ain’t it” these fast-tracked vaccines aren’t causing us to reject our Messiah and worship a counterfeit Jesus. That’s another prophecy for another eschatologian to deal with.

There’s a fair amount of tsk-tsking on social media directed at christians for foolishly kowtowing to the gummint and getting stuck. As a result, some are starting to reconsider taking the shot and others are regretting having done so, worried they have done something that cannot be undone and their souls might be damned forever.

May I set your heart at ease? The prophecy about “the mark of the beast” is just that. It’s about THE BEAST (Rev . 13:15-17). It’s not about this virus and it’s not about getting healthy so you can be a good neighbor.

Here’s some sane (and sage) counsel:

… the historical data does not permit us to think the “mark of the beast” is something you can accidentally take. It’s a mark of loyalty and worship, which requires full cognitive and heart-felt awareness of what you are doing (otherwise it’s not worship). If there is some future mark imposed on people by some nefarious person, then to take that mark, you’ll know exactly what you are doing—namely, cursing Christ and pledging devotion to his enemy… The message of Revelation beckons us away from angst and worry. It bids us to gaze upon the slain Lamb—to worship him with loyalty, devotion, and commitment. Let’s make Christ our focus, not endless speculations that, at the end of the day, have very little to do with the message of Revelation.”
— Tavis Bohlinger, The Logos Academic Blog, May 18, 2020 (emphasis mine)

Real talk, my friend.

You are not going to accidentally stumble into the “giving of the mark ceremony,” you are going to know exactly what you are doing. Don’t let the scaremongers get to you. They’ve been out there doing it since time immemorial, twisting the words of Jesus and holding parts of his church hostage through fear and control. Get off Facebook and get into the Word. Get you a good commentary (preferably an older one) and stay away from extremists and false-flag alarmists.

The One who is “able to keep you from falling” (Jude 24-25) is well-equipped to prevent you from receiving the mark… if your devotion is to Jesus today you will not give the beast your affection tomorrow. For myself, I pray each day that the Lord will grace me with the joy of finishing well and not falling away.

With heart free and easy, I’ll be getting my first poke on April 26, knowing full well I will not be marked for damnation. As the needle goes in, my heart will offer up a prayer of praise to the One who is my true King.

Selah, beloved.

A Son To Pierce Her Heart

I lovingly dedicate this entry to Graham’s ‘mama’ – my Sandy – and her epic love for our sweet boy who left earth one year ago this day; though he pierced her soul and died too soon, he always knew he had a home in her heart.

And the Child will pierce your heart also, Mary.
- Simeon, Luke 1:35

• • • •

The keen-eyed prophet looked up from his petitions when the young couple gingerly entered the temple grounds. Their eyes darted to and fro, nervously surveying the lay of the property. His own expression, however, told the full story of his mirth as a smile stretched and lit up his face like the gleam of a midday sun.

Their bundle which cooed and giggled and scuffled against its tight wrappings was the hope of his people but the pair appeared not to be aware. But the prophet was! He had lived to see this Day of Visitation after all! And here he was, within feet of Messiah in the guise of an eight-day old baby.

Not wanting to startle the couple, he could barely contain his adulation, but still carefully approached the young parents and when they simultaneously spied his approach, he smiled kindly.

The husband was more on edge but offered a respectful nod as the elderly man drew near. The new mother, quite young, looked shyly down upon her newborn and fiddled playfully with the child’s stubby fingers. The prophet paused, in awe of the scene before him: God Himself, accessible and interactive, gazing up at His mother, eyes alert and sparkling like the stars He had laid out in the night skies eons hence…

It was all too much – but joyfully so!

As Simeon drew up to the cautious pair, he kept bobbing his head in quick, successive and reverential bows and mimicked the quiet clapping and rubbing together of his bony hands. He had no idea, when he awakened this morning, that this day would provide the coda for his entire lifetime. He could fairly burst into song!

The new mother stole another quick glance at their visitor and smiled in return, ever so sweetly. He was struck by how young and innocent she was, little more than a child herself. Her attachment to this newborn was clearly evident, as if her baby boy was her universe.

Dare he ask to hold the Child?

Did she know Whom she was cradling against her breast?

Did he himself know for certain?

Indeed. So much so, in very fact, his hands, veined with thin ropes, began shaking and his breaths became shallow in this high and holy moment. This time his bow came from the waist and he lingered in abeyance for a beat or two. The couple seemed uncomfortable with the gesture and eyed him warily.

“You needn’t fear me, children,” Simeon offered in whispered tones.

He looked at the bundle in Mary’s arms with a look of reverential awe. “I know Whom you bring today.”

They were suddenly alarmed. Mary pressed into her husband’s side for assurance of his handling the matter.

“Your Child,” he indicated by tilting his head ever so slightly at the Baby, and continued, ” is our long-awaited One.”

Simeon’s smile broadened and glee spread out across his face, but Joseph quickly looked around, unsure, to see if anyone was listening. Mary looked instinctively at her fidgeting bundle.

The Child, only eight days, was now fixated on the old man who was now at Mary’s side. His round-as-marbles eyes seemed fascinated, taking in the moment, watching the kind man with interest. What could have been a smile – but surely wasn’t! – began to play at the corner of his tiny mouth.

Simeon held out his hands. Mary somehow felt the necessity that called instead of cautioned in the moment and gently released her Baby into the waiting arms of this righteous man. A startled gasp erupted from Simeon as he took Messiah into his palms. He looked down into the face of Deity and appeared to be listening, then looked up and then straight into the wide-eyed wonderment of the young girl before him.

“This Child is given for the salvation of many. But many will also reject Him and perish. He is God’s appointed One and will expose all that is in men’s hearts,” he declared aloud.

But then his eyes dampened as pity softened the edges of his prophecy. Simeon’s voice broke a bit as he added one more word for the sweet young mother of Messiah:

“And you, too, will have your heart pierced by Him…”

And the strangest thing…

Mary already seemed to know…

• • • •

In the fairy-est of tales, fraught with wonder and legend, my wife’s prayers for a child were answered in the fullest of ways. Our Graham came to us like a dream you never want to wake up from.

A year ago today we were looking at air fares for Graham, happily anticipating our son’s visit for Christmas. In mere hours, however, we were scrambling for a flight for Sandy – to be where he was. Well, his body. He wouldn’t make it after all. Death had intervened.

Rather than a festival we made plans for a funeral, and my wife, the mother of our only child, now deceased, was a sight to behold. Through it all – and since – her handling of it has been the stuff of fantasy. I’ve never known someone so deeply and consistently wounded and pierced through, and yet so marvelously forgiving and accepting … and so mythically and stunningly … content.

Mary – grander scale, we know; cosmic, to be sure – kept having more and more drama added to her narrative and yet kept quietly processing, finding sense in, and looking for God’s riches in it all (Luke 2:19,51). I’m watching my bride do this also and I’m fascinated to see Christ being formed in her in these tender days (Galatians 4:19).

Graham?

He’s missed –oh! – you’ve no idea!

Christmas is quiet. Joyeaux Noel is downplayed, though not in Minor key. We cry, but we don’t mourn (as much). We still talk about the could have beens, but without regrets tinged with bitterness. The motion of the world carries forward, but we still want to stay a few steps behind. Our choice. We’ll catch up, but not today. Today, my wife holds her hand over her pierced heart, hurting. And remembering. And treasuring.

And I? I hold my hand over hers.

One of the last mother-son pics – it says everything