1.5 Billion

      Something interesting happened at work today. The office was alive with chatter – there seemed to be a static buzz in the air. Finding myself determined to ascertain what was going on, I listened. I took a step back to figure out was going on. It did not take long; everyone was talking about the same thing – the Powerball.
     
      As I kept listening, it became apparent why my coworkers were talking about it. It had reached an all time high! 1.5 Billion dollars. WHOA... that is a lot of money. 
     
       What was most interesting, however, was not the talk about immense fortune; it was the fact that everyone was talking about it, as though they had already won. Everybody in the office (and I do mean EVERYBODY) was talking about the 1.5 billion dollars as if it was already theirs'. They were talking about how they had bought their ticket, how they were going to spend the money when their numbers were called, and how their lives would be changed forever. 
     
      What struck me was this: these people seemed to have spent their money on a fleeting chance (if one can call it a "chance") to have their lives changed by an incredible amount of money. They talked as if they had already won a fortune of a lifetime. This provoked me to thought. I began to reflect upon the reality of what could be, and what was. I was challenged by the buzz. If we could be so eager to talk about something that would never be ours, why do we hesitate to discuss the riches God has lavished upon His children. If we have truly received the fortune of a lifetime, why are our lives not alive with chatter – where is the buzz about the Good News of our winnings!? 
     
      While we may not have received 1.5 billion dollars, our lives have been completely changed by the limitless riches of God's grace. (we didn’t even have to pay for a ticket – it was given freely to those who ask). And if that is not enough to keep us talking, we received more than what the Powerball could provide – peace, hope, purpose, and love. A fortune worth more than gold! 
     
      Be encouraged. May our lives buzz with the talk about what is... we HAVE BEEN given the Treasure of a lifetime. 

Proven Guilty

{John 8:3-11}

3 The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst 4 they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. 5 Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 6 This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. 7 And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. 9 But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. 10 Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” 11 She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more” (ESV).

     Judgment… hypocrisy… condemnation… All of these topics can find their way into a sermon on this Passage of Scripture. And while these themes can be drawn out of this portion of Sacred Text, understanding its truth goes way beyond the actions of the scribes and Pharisees – who were acting according to the Law.
     While these themes are applicable, perhaps it was more about the woman and Jesus. It was less about “throwing stones,” and more about her sin. The fact of the matter is, she was guilty. She was guilty sin – found, proven, and convicted. All that was left was for her was to suffer the consequences. In fact, she should have paid for her sin. It would have been just. As it stood, she broke the commands of the Scripture and drove the wedge of separation between herself and the Almighty. Her sin was the voice of insult calling out against a holy God, and the Pharisees where right in proclaiming judgment upon her.
     Despite what she deserved, however, Jesus stood between her and her accusers. Jesus knew what she did; Jesus knew the severity of her crimes. He knew
that she stood condemned before Him, and yet He plead her cause. For a moment… just a moment… as she stood before the Pharisees, she may have thought it was God’s people that were her accusers. In that instance, Jesus showed her it was not the religious figures that were her accusers, it was her sin.
     Sin, like a crown of thorns, mars the image of the King. And yet Jesus, still, offered the woman grace. He stood and acknowledged that sin had pronounced judgment upon her, and, in the same breath, He released her from the consequences of that judgment. Jesus, true to His title – Savior – saved her from the accusations of sin. He delivered her from condemnation. This was a true instance of God’s amazing grace.
     While the presence of sin demands justice, the presence of Jesus pronounces forgiveness. Sin decrees pain and punishment; Jesus offers healing and restoration. Like the woman in the story, we are all guilty of some-sort of sin. Also, we deserve to pay the consequences of our actions. However, it is Jesus who can pardon. Jesus has the power to justify the guilty, and it is we who need Jesus!

Hear the Whispers

One night, while my wife and I were mid-conversation, the sound of my son's cries caught our attention. Of course, due to the affect a child's tears have upon the heart of a father, I immediately stopped what I was doing and went to my son.

Picking him up, I wrapped him in my arms - intending to comfort him. I already knew the reason for which he was crying out for my attention, but he continued to cry inconsolably. As he continued wail and scream, I began to whisper, "Asher... Asher. I am right here; I have you. It is alright, Asher. I am here... Asher." Despite my gentle whispers, and my best efforts to comfort my son with my presence, he persisted to yell and howl - unable to hear my whispers over the sound of his own voice. I desperately wanted my beloved child to hear my voice, and know that I was there!

As I continued to whisper my child's name, I heard God whisper to my soul, "How often have you done the same?" This made me realize that I have done the same thing - over and over again. I began to wonder how often I, in crying out for the Father's attention, failed to hear the Most High whisper my name. Perhaps, we do the same thing; we drown out the sound of God’s voice with the vociferous dissonance of our cries and one-sided prayers. How often does our Heavenly Father whisper our names – and attempt to comfort us with His presence – and yet we fail to notice?

Often, we rest comfortably in arms of our Heavenly Father, yet we are content to keep our eyes closed to His presence and ignore the whispers of His voice. Let us hear the whispers; let us attune our hearts to the gentle voice of our Father. No matter what we are going through, God remains near His children! Though we feel like fussing and complaining, let us take comfort and find peace in the Presence of God – for He is always there and He calls us by name.

 

Heart's Cry

     Something remarkable happens when one becomes a father. This experience brings with it a unique revelation of the connection that is shared between a father and his child. It seems impossible to describe, but it is a connection that reaches past the natural and touches the very heart. Perhaps the best way to express this connection and relationship, is to explain what takes place when a father hears his child cry.
     To a loving father, to hear the sound of his child's cry is much more than hearing - it is feeling. It is to hear the wails and have one's heart moved. It is to assimilate tears of the child. A father's heart is moved to respond to the sounds of his child - to respond to the needs behind the cry!
It is as though the father's heart cries with the child. As his child calls out for the attention of his father, the father's heart wells with tears to meet the need of his beloved. The cries seem to tear the vail of indifference and allow direct access to the father's soul.
     Upon experiencing this connection first hand, I cannot help but consider how God feels when He hears the cries of His children. As indescribable the anguish and heartbreak of a father who hears the desperate calling of his child, so
also is the Heart of the Father for His children. I can only, now, image how our cries touch the heart of our Heavenly Father. When we call out in need, The Father's heart is moved - moved to meet the needs of His child.
      This tells me that EVERY tear and EVERY cry is not only heard by our Father, it is felt. We can be sure that our God will torridly desire to meet the needs of His children, EVERY time we call out to Him. With this new found insight into fatherhood, let us be encouraged to call out to our Heavenly Father and know (without a doubt) that He will be moved by our prayers; and He will answer our prayers according to what is best for us!

-Dusty

Proud!

My wife and I are going through one of the most incredible experiences. We are on the journey of pregnancy. Miraculous! It is truly miraculous.

Currently, my wife is in her third trimester - a point in the baby's development where he begins to hear and recognize voices. This being the case, we feel it is appropriate to read portions of the Bible to him and talk to him. We do so that he may begin to familiarize himself with his parents.

 

One night, After finishing our passage about Moses, I began to speak to my child. As I was speaking, I found myself saying, "I am proud of you!" This brought about an interesting gaze from my wife, and an interesting conversation. As we talked about how someone could be proud of their unborn child, we discovered something. We are proud of our soon-born baby, not because of something he did, because of the fact that he is our child.

We discussed how this is a picture of God's heart! How often has God said, "I am proud of you," not because of anything you did, said, or accomplished. While, I am sure those things matter (mostly to ourselves), God is proud of you BECAUSE YOU ARE HIS CHILD. Yes, we should use our freedom to walk in a manner worthy of the call God has placed on our lives; we should stand firm in the power of God and desire to change the world! Nevertheless, we should also rest in the fact that our Heavenly Father is proud of us. He is proud of us simply because we are His children. With this thought, go forth and enjoy the peace that comes from the favor of God!

- Dusty

"Knocking on the Door of Prayer"

Lately I have been knocking on a lot of doors. It's part of my new job and my new season of my life. And while I was at work the other day, approaching a door, I realized something!
     Knocking on a door doesn't happen by accident. It is intentional! You walk right up to the door you want opened, and make yourself heard!
     The situation determines how you knock. If the circumstances of life are noisy and chaotic, you have to knock loudly - to be heard above the noise of life's events. If the stirrings of our emotions are the only sounds that we hear, we need to be intentional about letting our prayers drown out the sounds of our heartbreak.
     On the other hand, if we find ourselves in the silence of tranquility or solitude, we knock gently upon heaven's gates. If we find ourselves sitting in silence, we can know that our gentle knocking will resound through the halls heaven and reach the Heart of God. When we feel like God is silent, and we yearn to hear His voice, we knock as loudly or gently as we need - and know that God hears us.
     Through prayer, we knock upon the golden gates of Glory, tap upon the heart of our Lord, and walk through the door of His Presence. In whatever season of life we find ourselves (chaotic or peaceful), we can knock and know that God will open the door and present Himself to us! Not only are we promised that the door will be opened when we knock, we are promised that the Almighty stands at the door waiting for us to come to Him!

Dusty D.

A Wall-less Church

The Church, as established by Jesus - after Pentecost, was mission-minded movement. It was intended (we were intended) that it would not be of the world, but sent into the world. It was not to sit stagnate. We are not created to hide our acts of worship behind walls. Our Lord commissioned us to go forth, into the world, with the power of the Holy Spirit, and glorify Our Savior by spreading the Good News of Jesus Christ!
      the church is a place for the broken to find healing, yes. But it is not to be limited to Sunday morning worship services. Of course, we need to go to be fed, and leave to feed! However, we are called to more than simple acts of praise; we are called to more than hiding behind the walls of our "churches."
     If this persists - if we continue hiding behind the walls of comfort and inactivity - God will send a prophet with a horn. Our "church" walls will come crashing down like the walls of Jericho! Perhaps it will take the sound of heavens armies encircling us. Or maybe it will take marching in circles, before we will see victory! It may be that we need our walls to fall, in order to see God's Kingdom Purposes accomplished!
        let us be a wall-less church. Let us not separate ourselves from the mission field. Let us not isolate ourselves from our sacred calling!

“The Long Descent”

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called,

with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,

eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

There is one body and one Spirit--just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call” (Eph. 4:1-4) (ESV).

                      I often wonder how many of our doctrines pave the long descent to hell. I do not question the sincerity of the individuals who claim ownership of their highly esteemed teachings; rather, I see the danger in holding so tightly to a pet-doctrine that one loosens their grip of Christ. We, who claim to be Christians (“Christ-like” in love, grace, and mercy), fight with each other over the doctrines we favor. We fight in the name of Scriptures; we “debate” in the name of intelligence; we rebuke our brothers in the name of Lord. We do all of this while the world watches. We do these things to validate our reputation of hypocrisy and self-righteousness. We do all of this over things that do not matter to the Gospel.

            Calvinism vs. Arminianism; Supralapsarianism vs. Infralapsarianism vs. Sublapsarianism; gifts of the Spirit vs. no-gifts of the Spirit; Pre-tribulation vs. Mid-tribulation vs. Post-tribulation; Preterism vs. Futurism; … the list of our arguments is long. It is a list that provides many opportunities for us to disagree. It justifies factions, divisions, and dis-unity in the Church – the Body of Christ. When we should be preaching Christ, we preach one translation of the Bible over another (Phil. 1:18).

            When will we let go?! When will we focus more on the work and person of Jesus Christ, than those things which only lead to dis-unity?! Is not the Blood of Jesus more important than pet-doctrines – than our desire to be right?! It seems we have as many reasons to disagree as there are stairs to hell!

            Perhaps we should be more concerned about preaching the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Perhaps, we should focus on our sacred calling and share the Good News. Perhaps we should remember that we are one Body – one Church. Perhaps we should let our preferences fall by the wayside, instead of promoting division.

Let us remember the Work of Jesus to open the way to Heaven. Hell shutters at the Work of our Lord, yet rejoices at our discord. It is time for us – the Church – to walk in a manner worthy of the calling we have received. Let us be diligent to study for ourselves the deep things of the Word, but may we never set a stumbling block before our brothers and sisters (Rom. 14). In the bond of Peace, let us submit to the Holy Spirit “until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God” (Eph. 4:13).

-          Dusty

Amen is not Good Bye

           When I am walking with my wife, I do not have a designated phrase to begin and end each conversation. In fact, no matter where we are or what we are doing, the conversation is always open. We do not need a prescribed beginning and end to each thought we share, because we are with each other. We are ever walking and talking with each other – enjoying each other’s company and presence. We have a relationship that is based on more than just conversation.

Should not our relationship with the Lord be similar? So often we think the phrases, “In the Name of Jesus” and “amen,” should begin and end our conversations with God. But why is this? Have we limited a relationship with the Savior to the few moments of prayer each day? Sometimes it feels as though we are “hanging up” or saying “good bye” when we attach an “amen” to the end of our prayers. This does not need to be the case. Since we have the very great and precious promises of God, we know that the Almighty “will never leave us or forsake us” (Josh. 1:5; 1 Sam. 12:22; 2 Peter 1:4). The Lord walks with us by His Spirit EVERY moment of the day (John 14:16-17).

Perhaps, then, every waking moment we should be sensitive and aware of the Presence of God. Yes, we will pray “In the Name of Jesus” and agree by faith with a holy “Amen,” but we should not let prayer be the only time we are attentive to God (Eph. 2:18). As a husband walks and talks with his wife, let us walk with God – aware and sensitive to the Presence of our Beloved. Let us always listen for the voice of God, no matter where we are – whether in prayer or not.

-Dusty

"The Cult of Comfort"

          Let us open the eyes of faith that we may awaken to the Kingdom of God! Let us stir from the slumber of apathy, remove the covers of ignorance, and arise from the bed of laziness. It is time to place our feet upon the floor of this age and walk toward the Door. With a sense of calling and purpose, let us grab a hold of the door of life, by the handle of faith. The time has come to throw open the doors, upon the hinges of prayer, and let the light of God’s glory illuminate that which has kept us sleeping.

          The light reveals that the house we have built is no more than the cult of comfort. The rooms were designed with only ourselves in mind. Within our slumbering state, within our house of comfort and straw, we crafted the dreams of self-gain. We have rested comfortably in our house, constructed by the hands of selfishness.

          The whole time we saw the light through the windows. We heard wind of God’s Word against our walls. Only by indifference has it been possible to ignore the breeze of the Spirit. Rather, we slept. All we wanted was comfort.

          It is a new day. It is the time for action – for charity, hospitality, love, and power. The son has risen to reveal what we created. The light has crept through the windows of hope. It is now time to arise! Where the cult of comfort has kept us asleep, it is time to awaken and make a difference. While it is still daylight, it is time live for God. We do not know when the Lord will return, but the night quickly approaches. It is time live for that which we have been made – to glorify God and to let the light shine through the door of life and action.

- Dusty D.

"Unhidden Scars"

{Mark 5:1-20; Luke 8:38-39}

            I knew those looks – those curious, suspicious looks. They seemed to remind me of how the scribes and Pharisees gazed into the Scriptures. It is like they were searching for something; they were searching for the truth of my words. I am slowly getting used to the staring. It never stopped.

The very thing people were curious about, I am eager to forget. It is not like I can ever get rid of these scars. Oh, the scars! They remind me of what once was – of who I used to be. They remind me of chains, oppression, and bondage. They remind me of my years in the desert. They are scares from hiding in tombs and caves. The places I used to call home. I can hide most of them; but all the deep, ruddy, monstrous scars around my neck and face are always visible. Perhaps they are left to remind me that I am not perfect. They remind me that there is more. They remind me of how Jesus delivered me – of how He saved me.

After Jesus delivered me from my spiritual affliction, it took a while to gain my family’s trust. At first, they were overwhelmed by my scars – by my past. I told them how Jesus took what was filthy and made it clean. I showed them how, if it was not for Jesus, I would still be living as a dead man – associating with death and living in tombs. I would still be filled with a darkness, a relentless wickedness, a curse of sin. I illustrated how the legion had been cast out. How the presence of evil had been cast away, like an unclean thing into the ocean – like a herd of pigs to drown in the sea.

That is why I knew Jesus was the Christ – the Jewish Messiah. I knew it. I experienced it. Nothing could change my mind! My message wasn’t as articulate or expressive as the Pharisees or Sadducees. I simply wanted to demonstrate how Jesus had the power to cast sin into the sea of forgetfulness, just as He had the power to cast the legion out of me. Jesus recreated me. He made me new. Jesus had the power and the compassion to do this for everyone. Throwing myself at the feet of Jesus was the best thing I had ever done.

I learned two things as I traveled the Decapolis: let the scars speak to the past, and let the light speak to the present. The brighter the light of day, the more obvious the scars became.  People would always look. They would always study the deep, gruesome scars. I let the scars attest to the work of God. As I did so, my onlookers could see past my scars – past my past – and see a new, transformed life.

I did not know the Torah or the words of the Prophets, but I knew Jesus. I knew that He loved me and cared about me. I knew that He changed me. That was enough to validate my message.

-          Dusty

"A Simple Opportunity"

I have not read any books on “how to work miracles” or “ways to walk in the supernatural.” I have not even read the latest pamphlets about how to start your own healing ministry. I have not done any of these things; even though I am sure they are great resources.

        Yet somehow, I have seen God perform, and have participated with God in, countless miracles (2 Peter 1:3-4). These calloused and withering hands have, nonetheless, been used as an instrument to bring miraculous healing. Knowing my own thoughts, failures, and weaknesses, I cannot be anything other than amazed at how God can use someone like me. What’s more, it makes me ponder whether or not there is a pattern to participating with God in the miraculous – like so many books and seminars seem to portray. If there is one, I have yet to discern what it is.

      If I had to identify one quintessential reality to participating with the Lord in His wonders, it would be this: it is God who works the miracle, not us (2Cor. 4:7). Try as we like, there is no way for us to fabricate the wondrous works of the Almighty. We can pray for people, only to have them maintain the affliction until they pass away, and we can pray for people and, in front of our very eyes, watch God heal them. Perhaps, this is what should minister to us – the fact that we can pray.

      If I were to write a book on how to participate with God in healing, there would only be one page between the covers. On that page, it would only have three words: PRAY FOR SOMEONE! I suppose that is where we find our true power – by plugging into the heaven’s Source. It is through the act of praying that we create an opportunity for God to work through us (and in us) (1 Cor. 4:20).

      This is an exciting thought: we can participate with God in His kingdom endeavors! This is a new year; let us venture forth with the Lord. As we go, it will be well for us to let the compassion of our hearts be swayed. We, who know how to pray, know that God’s power can change any situation. We should be encouraged to join with God in that change. Let us look for someone with which to pray. Let us create the opportunity for God to work wonders!

- Dusty Dahlin
(Originally Posted for Epic Bible College's Journalism Department)

"A Petal-less Church"

A church without holiness is like a flower without petals.

            It is a living, growing, organism which has been denuded of its crown.

            It very well may be alive and able to produce, but its splendor has been removed.

                        The velvet petals of the rose are God’s blessing to life’s thorns.

The golden display of holiness is the chalice for the wine of honor.

The holy and the perianth compose the songs for which they have been formed.

Without either, the Church and the flower are bald, bland, and colorless.

To one was given a diadem – the very radiance of Christ’s righteousness.

To the other, a headdress was given – the color pallet of God’s imagination.

To the flower, what good is life, if there is no majesty for the Living?

To the church, you may cease to exist, if the glory of your calling has been revoked.

A church without holiness is like a flower without petals.

It is my prayer that the above imagery highlights the importance of holiness. Individually or corporately, we can make a difference in our world. I propose, though, that a "radicle" holiness will enable us to speak louder and act more effectively for the glory of our Savior. (Lev. 11:44-45; Lev. 20:26; Matt. 5:6; Matt. 6:33; Gal. 5:22-24; Eph. 1:4; 5:1-2; 1 Peter 1:15-16).

         

- Dusty

"America – The Spiritual Wilderness"

             America, how long will you thank God for sandals that do not wear out? How long will you kneel and worship the Almighty for His miraculous provision of manna? How long will you keep your arms raised and your head bowed; how long will you bless the Most High for a familiar path to tread? How long will you testify of Sinai, Marah, the Red Sea, and the Lord's mighty works? How long will you remain sick from your consumption of gold, and how long will you lust for garish worship? How long will you carry the Covenant without beholding the all-surpassing glory of Yahweh! How long will you look to the glowing wings of the cherubim and, yet, have your eyes adverted from the loving countenance of your Savior? How long will this continue?

            America, how long will you praise the Lord for the staff of Aaron? How long will you exalt the Creator for the miracles of Moses’ rod? How long will you extol the presence of the Urim and Thummim? How long will you honor the scent incense and the healing of ashes and water? How long will you lift your eyes to the bronze serpent? How long will you offer sacrifices without seeing the Blood of the Perfect Lamb? How long will you search the writing of the stone tablets without seeing the Finger of God! How long, after you passed through the parted sea of self-righteousness, will you enslave yourself? How long will you forget the promises of God? How long will you forget about the Almighty? How long will your forty years last; how long will you make it last?

            America, how long will this continue?  How long will you strike the Rock? How long will you strike the Rock expecting a refreshing stream? How long before you realize it was the Rock who provided your living water? How long before you see Cornerstone upon which you were established? How long before you acknowledge the Foundation upon which you stand? How long before you see the waters of the Jordan? How long before you see the fruit of Canaan and taste of its freedom? How long will you hide yourself in the mountain’s cleft before turning around to see the presence of the Holy One! How long will you let your own fall in the wilderness, when you could live victoriously in the Promised Land?

            America, why live within the territory of purposelessness when God has given you the lands of change and promise? Why be still when you can initiate a movement? Why wander when you can live?

- Dusty

"A True Jewel"

{Phil. 3:16}

            If a jewel is dropped into the dirt, it is still a jewel. Its circumstances do not change what it is. The soil, the depth, the lowly components found therein, none of these things undermine the integrity
or nature of the jewel. Not even the amount of time it has spent hidden in the confines of its earthen-
prison matters; it is still a precious stone. Even if the expensive jewel is dropped into the dirt, it is to
leave its impression in the dust.

Despite what we feel, or what our pasts have led us to believe, the work of God is holy. He is able, completely, to forgive us of our sins and cleanse us from the guilt of poor-choices. We devote our lives to following the ways of God, and God provides us with our true identity. He breathes into the dirt and creates a jewel; He establishes us as His children. By the work of God, we are righteous and pure. We are adopted by the Father – given entrance into His family.

It is like we have become a precious, raw stone in the hand of the Jeweler. He crafts and shapes and forms us for His purposes. With the tool of hardship in His hand, the Jeweler carefully sculpts His creation to reveal His mastery. By the end of His work, we are perfect – a polished and honed Jewel. Whether we are to be placed in the jewel studded hallway of the King’s courts, or we are to be delicately fastened to the King’s necklace, we are the magnificent display of the Lord’s glory and splendor.

In the meantime, while we are still being perfected and polished, we are no less than a Jewel. It is, now, in life’s valleys and mountains that we get to “live up to what we have already attained.” It is in this moment that we are enabled, by the work of God, to leave an impression upon the dust. We are given value and deemed worthy of the title, “children of God,” so let us begin living with purpose. Let us adorn the King with acts of kindness and compassion; Let us reveal the beauty of the Lord’s love; let us do something great that will leave an impression upon our circumstances. From a place of understanding our worth, let us live up to what we have already attained.

-          Dusty

A Flame for Heat

What is revival? What is the purpose of experiencing the warm flame of God’s revival fire (Eph. 3:16-19)? We seem aware, enough, of our own need to re-discover life – Christ’s life and the high-valued purpose of our lives. It is not enough for one to state their commitment to such a passion, if no action will follow. Whether it is found in the cerebral functions of the mind or the brawny display of faith, God makes revival accessible to His creatures. It is not like trying to chase the wind while underneath the water. It is simple enough as believing that the sun will rise in the morning. It is achievable by the Spirit of God, through faith (Eph. 2:18; 3:16-17).

While faith in God is the only prescribed requirement, it is beneficial to locate ourselves in a place where we can find revival. In the Lord's presence, you can lift up your soul as a torch to receive the spark of Revival's flame. If, however, you leave that place - not to reveal that reviving work begun within you - you have not actually been touched by a godly revival. Revival is about life. It was intended that life be lived. As believers, now, we have been given a new life. The premise, here then, is that being awakened to Life should incite some living.

We have access to a renewed passion for the things of God; we have access to a new life. Let us approach the throne of grace with confidence that we will receive God’s holy revival, but let us also leave that place that the world may feel the heat of revival’s flame (Heb. 4:16).
- Dusty

"Beneath the Cross"

{Matt. 27:54; Mark 15:39; Luke 23:47; John 19:34-35}

          I will never forget it! It was the middle of the day, yet the skies had gone as dark as my soul. I am soldier… or I was a soldier. After that incident, I retired from Cesar’s service. I had seen death; I had been desensitized to the horrors bloodshed. Something, however, was different about that day.

            I had seen the lush, green fields along the Fertile Crescent transformed into ruddy and rosy seas of blood – the blood of Rome’s enemies. When the commands were given, I would kill without question. I suppose I would call myself an acquaintance with death. Even then, though, my neighbors have called me a friend of murder. Still, something was very different about that day. There may have been more, but I could only remember three deaths that afternoon – three, not thousands.

            It was not unusual to receive a mandate from the State. I was commissioned to perform as an executioner. For the three who had received the death sentence, one of them was different. He was very different. I had performed in this role before, but I had never seen anything like that. Every time before, the accused (those found guilty of breaking law) would protest, incessantly plead innocent, and beg for a different verdict. But not this man – not Jesus. He was silent. He didn’t even respond to the false accusations of his accusers. As far as I can remember, he only responded once to Pilot, and even then he did not try to change the verdict. I had never seen anything like it. It was almost as if he wanted to die. It did not make sense!

            The trek up the hill to Golgotha was remarkable as well, but it was what happened upon the hill that impacted me the most. I stood by the crosses; the papers for the execution of those three criminals tucked between my chest and my breastplate. As I waited for the final order from my captain, I was disgusted by what I saw. For the first time in years, I was truly distraught. Usually, a few citizens of Jerusalem would come out to watch a crucifixion. This time, though, they came out in droves. They did not come out to watch; they came out to cheer. They cheered on the death of Jesus. They mocked and spit and hurled insults at him. The crowds celebrated the coming of his death, like an empire celebrates the fall of its long-time enemy. It was a horrible scene. I am pretty sure I had never seen anything like it before. There was so much hate and hostility, it almost did not surprise me that the skies had gone black.

            I remember having to strain my ear over the curses of the people. It was difficult to hear what was being said from the crosses. Even the other two criminals scoffed and insulted Jesus. I watched intently to see what Jesus would do. He did the unexpected. Even as he hung there, he showed compassion to his mother – providing for her needs by offering her to the care of one of his few sympathizers. What is more, even in his pain, he offered a prayer to God. He begged God to forgive them for what they had done; he did not beg God to release him from his suffering. I was unfamiliar with this kind of mercy. I still ask myself why (and how) he could be so gracious. It is not like he was an angel or something – I watched the blood fall from his wrists. He faced death like no other human I had encountered.

It was those acts of compassion and love that even won over one of the criminals next to Him. It was His patient endurance what impacted me. You could have almost sensed a kindness in Him – even though we did everything we could to ensure the most excruciating and painful death. What happened next, I will never forget. He, again, cried out to the God of the Jews. But that time He screamed what seemed to be a declaration. He announced that “it was finished.” It was bone-chilling; I was convinced I had heard that before, by the victors of war or by triumphal gladiators. It was mysterious! You could tell He was in pain, but He was by no means defeated by the thought of His impending death. Following that, He shouted again. Somehow it appeared that He was still in control of His horrible situation; He offered up His spirit to the Lord. It seemed to me that He had extended His hand to God, and God responded. He finally breathed His last breath. I was relieved to see the suffering end.

It was getting late, and the Sabbath was coming with the dawn. I heard my captain yelling again. “Break their legs,” he said, “we can’t work on the Sabbath. Put them to death so we can bury them before the Sabbath!” I broke the legs of the other two so they would die quickly. Then I came to Jesus. It was pointless to break His bones because He was already dead. I howled for my captain. I tried to tell him that Jesus was already dead. My captain was suspicious, so he handed me a spear and told me to make sure. It was an order. I obeyed. I did what I was trained to do; I pierced His side. But the result was like nothing I had ever seen. It was not just blood that appeared, there was water as well. I remember being too close to Jesus’ side – the blood and water flowed over me. This mystery covered my hands and my chest, it reminded me of baptism. It was as if Jesus, from beyond the grave, was cleansing me of my wrongs – forgiving me. It was at that point when I changed. When I had seen the separation of the blood and water, I realized I had been separated from the truth. Jesus was who He said He was. He did have the power to forgive sins and offer life. Until that day, the only authority I had known solely had the power to take lives. But Jesus gave His. He gave His for me.

As I stood beneath that cross, I reached for my chest. I slid my fingers between my breastplate and my heart, and I took my papers of execution. Held loosely by shaky fingers, I looked upon the command I had been given. It said I was commissioned to execute Jesus. I couldn’t look at it any longer; I was disgusted. I loosened my grip of that cursed document – those orders of sin – and I watched as it fell to the ground. It seemed an eternity before it landed in the deep pool of His blood. His blood seemed to wash away its filthy directive - the assignment for such sin covered effectively by His blood. That was the last thing I could remember about that terrible day. I chose, that day, to let my sin fall also into the deep-pool of Jesus’ blood. As I stood beneath that cross, my burden was lifted and I was given a new one. I walked away from that place, dedicated to following in His ways. If He could show love, mercy, and compassion while suffering at my hand, I could do the same for Him.

First things First

          "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son."
-John 3:16-18