"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