the Gates are MINE!

the gates

sleeping today (between night shifts), i woke up about every hour.
each time, i found myself at an entrance to this building that was a large church.
the number of entrances seemed almost limitless, and they were all similar, rather unassuming, but subtly distinct. it seemed as if i was being given a tour of this facility, which was a mainly asian church of some kind. at each entrance it was explained to me that this entrance represented, whatever it was - each stood for some different aspect of the church, like one would be teaching, another worship, another missions, another evangelism, and so on.

i began to see these doorways into the church as if they were gates into an ancient walled city, each with its own character, & purpose, and name.

this went on for hours, and the really cool part was, at each doorway (gate), i was told by this very formal asian gentleman, that “this is also yours”.

every time i woke up, i was more & more excited about what was going on in the dream, and, it seemed, in the spiritual realm. finally, after about the 6th or 7th time this happened, i couldn’t stand it any more, i virtually leapt out of bed & began walking throughout the house proclaiming God’s blessing on EVERYTHING i saw! it was the most powerful walkabout yet! i blessed everything from the nails in the walls to the storage shelves, the carpets, the grass on the hillsides, the rocks, & the birds! Everything. it was totally awesome.

then i sat down at the computer & read this MOST AWESOME devotional msg from david wilkerson, on "preventing" (!!!):
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2010 “PREVENTING” LOVE

“Thou preventest him with the blessings of goodness: thou settest a crown of
pure gold on his head” (Psalm 21:3). At first glance, this verse by David is
a bit puzzling. The word “prevent” is usually associated with hindrance,
not with blessing. A modern translation here would be, “The Lord hindered
David with the blessings of goodness.”

Yet the biblical word for “prevent” signifies a completely different
meaning. It means “to anticipate, to precede, to foresee and fulfill in
advance, to pay a debt before it is due.” Furthermore, in almost every
instance, it implies something of pleasure.

Isaiah gives us a glimpse of this kind of pleasure. It comes from God
anticipating a need and fulfilling it ahead of time. “It shall come to pass,
that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will
hear” (Isaiah 65:24).

This verse provides us with an incredible picture of our Lord’s love for us.
Evidently, he is so anxious to bless us, so ready to fulfill his lovingkindness
in our lives, that he can’t even wait for us to tell him our needs. So he
jumps in and performs acts of mercy, grace and love toward us. And that is a
supreme pleasure to him.

That is just what David was saying in Psalm 21: “Lord, you pour out blessings
and lovingkindness on me before I can even ask. And you offer more than I could
even conceive of asking.”

David was referring to some awesome work that God performed for him in the
spiritual realm. It was something that gave David victory over his enemies,
answers to prayer, overcoming power and unspeakable joy. And God did it all
before David could even go to prayer, to unburden his heart or present his
request. Once David finally did pour out his heart, he discovered that God had
already made provision to defeat his enemies. David’s victory was assured
before he could even get near the battlefield.

Read this devotion online: http://www.worldchallenge.org/en/node/7529

then i want back to bed. now i am going to work. 8-)

franks dead?!

franks dead?!?
what? franks dead!
no, that cant be!
he was due back any day,
everyone’s in turmoil, running around, crying & wailing,
frank surely cant be dead - there must be some mistake!
how did it happen? how?, never mind, franks dead?

omg - franks dead. how can this be?
everyone knows frank was really going somewhere.
he was coming right back, any time now.
is he really dead? i cant believe it.
i cant quite, remember what he looked like,
we were buds, right? we hung out together? did stuff?
we had such plans, frank & i.
how can frank be dead?

i’m crying so hard, like everybody else, but, darn it anyway
which one was frank? do you remember?
how can i go to this memorial, if i cant remember?
you either? but, its frank man. frank!
how could this happen?, how could God....

gus & paul go by, into the service, carrying a coffin sized
padded nylon case, by straps on either end, clearly very heavy.
their faces are red, and wet.
paul gives me a look, but i know that look,
its a “is he still crying?, or trying not to laugh, cause he knows the truth?”
kinda look.

and then i realize the truth.
franks not dead. its all a gag.
i peek into the service in time to see them unzip the bag,
and out crawls frank, in his pin-stripe suit, bowler hat,
looking around with this confused frown on his face,
‘what’s going on here? what’s the big deal?’
3 days growth of beard - typical frank, all the way.

suddenly, everyone is laughing, shrieking! leaping about!
i dash in & tackle frank to the ground, pummeling him joyfully,
of course this is frank! my bud! the idiot!
the entire community rushes down & piles on top of us!
now nothing but hysterical, uncontrollable, joyful shrieking laughter!
it was all just a practical joke, typical frank, we should have known!
but ah, the release! the back-from-the-dead JOY bursts! its worth it!
then i wake up, shrieking in laughter, wondering if i have disturbed the other guests in this little motel?

(wednesday night)

blood on the sand?

.

did i cry out?

in the night
dark and deep,
where dreams swirl about,

did i make a sound?
lost in thoughts
not my own,
or maybe owned, or borrowed?

where reality stalks
where pain & sorrow rend
where grief never slackens
did i cry out?

father? was there ever any blood on the sand?
did anyone find blood on the sand?

i never know what will trigger another wave of anguish,
fresh as that first, when for eight days and nights i searched,
long after all others had given up, through the freezing rain and driving winds
that no poor unprotected soul could for eight minutes have survived.

scrubbing pans in the dining hall, 2 years later, go figure...
inundated by the old grief anew, reduced to sobs and anguish,
most leave me to it, but from the door father shouts “Give it up! Leave it be.”
“I can’t!” cries my soul! my minds eye again searching the wave pounded shores.

for the young wife, the infant daughter,
no trace ever found.

was there ever any blood on the sand?
did anyone find blood on the sand?

i am trapped in this script, like an old forgotten actor
that replays his part on command.
maybe someday, in a hundred years or so
no one will ever again remember

(thursday night)