When I look
with spirit eyes, I see the King of Glory sitting on a white horse off in the
distant sky. He shines brighter than the
sun and His splendor is awesome to behold.
His majesty cloaks Him with brilliance and glory is His crown, jeweled
with many gems of radiance never before seen.
He is magnificent in His beauty and stature. I fall to my face to worship Him.
Then I look
into His face and see tears streaming down as He weeps. He gazes at His kingdom below and sees a war
torn battlefield and He is filled with sadness.
And I hear
His voice softly telling me to look upon the object of His love and His
pain. I tear my eyes from Him to obey
though it is more difficult than I could have imagined. But when I do I see a sea of bleeding and bruised
war torn soldiers in the midst of a battle.
There are so many. They are so
damaged. My heart is torn from my chest
as I behold the destruction and devastation being played out before me. I also begin to weep as never before for I
cannot bear the pain of the scene before me.
Young and old
gallantly holding up His standard wearing arrow pierced armor and helmets
battered and bent. Their feet are bare,
belts shredded, shields crumpled and scared.
Swords are scarce and they fight with but a few weapons, yet they fight
on. There are some that have fled to the
hills beyond and are hiding in the caves and crevasses of the rocky forsaken
landscape. There are bleeding and
dismembered lying about with no one to comfort them, no medic in the field can
be seen.
I watch as
the battle rages, attack after attack on His seemingly weak and defenseless
army. The enemy appears strong and well
appointed with weapons of terror and destruction. They shriek with glee as they feel the battle
is theirs to win.
Then I look
again and see that among the enemy's army are men with white robes and swords
that appear as if they belong to my King.
I am confused and astonished. How
could this be? But then He causes the
wind to blows and their robes part and I see that they are only the skeletons
of men, no flesh, no heart, nothing but anger and bitterness clothed as men of
light. These too are wielding their swords
in the battle against the wounded army of the King.
He is
waiting. He sits on His horse with tears
streaming down His cheeks. He is motionless in His pain.
I look again and see that there are glorious buildings
adorned with beautiful banners that bear the standard of the Prince of Peace,
our King. These buildings are beautiful
and stand with brilliant light and my heart is filled with hope. But then as the doors are opened and I see
inside that there is a multitude of warriors sitting feasting languishing in
the light and warmth of this sanctuary. But
they have grown fat and lazy and are no longer fitted for war. They have laid aside their armor and have put
on their leisure apparel. They lay and
feast at the tables spread before them.
The tables are filled with all manner of wonderful food and drink. There is plenty, more than all of them could
consume. It is a joyless feast
however. They have eaten and drank their
fill and are still looking for entertainment as they seek to have their flesh
fed even more.
My Lord
still looks on in anguish as He sees His people wasting what He has given
them. He is angry that His house is so
misused. But He makes no move to correct
the problem. He stays my hand also
telling me to just watch for now. I am
overwhelmed with grief at what I am seeing but I obey.
Then He
shows me that there are a few within the walls of these sanctuaries that still
serve, who go among the others encouraging them to take up their weapons for
battle with their brothers. Some are
serving, some are praying, some are worshiping and singing, some are declaring
the Words of our Master and King. The
throng soaks up these offerings yet they sit stagnant in their
selfishness. They ignore the battle
outside of the walls. They deny any
recognition of it, and do not acknowledge its existence.
A few of
the most diligent servants also go out to reach the wounded who are still
fighting and bring them in to minister to them.
But the others look at them in distain, disgusted with their dirty and
ravaged condition and so do not welcome them in. They recite rules and make cumbersome requirements
for the need of clean and correct apparel, the appropriate actions, the
necessary sanctification. Then when the
warriors are not compliant they turn them away in disgust. They do not measure up, they are not the same,
not good enough. They close their doors
and their ranks. Very soon the wounded
soldiers leave to go back into the battle having received small if any, relief,
no healing, no respite from their labors and the fight. There are many of these buildings all throughout
the land but they are filled with those that are oblivious to the destruction
without their doors.
New
soldiers arrive in these halls as a result of the labors of yet other true servants. They are young and excited but ill equipped,
unproven, and yet they are also eager to serve the King. Some however shortly leave disillusioned by
what they find there. Some join the feasting
ones there, enamored by the abundance that they have found. Some stay but a little while and then they
also eagerly go out to join the battle, but they are unprepared for the
onslaught and ravages of the raging war and soon they also leave the battle in
search of refuge. Others who are
encouraged by the servants to join the feast, to build up their strength, and
then once fitted with proper armor, they are trained for the warfare, and once
tested are sent out into the battle.
These few are the true warriors that go fully aware of the enemy and his
power, yet they also know that the King has equipped and enabled them and fitted
them with all that they need to stand against His enemy. These are the captains that He sends out, who
lead, who battle, who do not falter.
They know that the battle is His, already won.
But they
are few and I wonder for the many wounded where are the reinforcements? Where are the medics? Where is true sanctuary? Only a few small places can be found where
the wounded are welcomed and tended to and truly cared for. These places are shabby well used, not
adorned or crafted with great beauty. But
in them are warm fires, food aplenty, fresh water and the soothing balm of comfort
and healing ministered by the workers within.
There are only a few faithful workers but they lovingly labor and do not
grow weary. They wear the robes of
servants and humbly give aid to the few who find them. Too few find them. There are not enough of these hostels of hope
and comfort.
The battle
rages on, the warriors continue the fight, the few give aid, the King weeps. Who will be His servants ministering to the
true warriors to His Majesty? Who will
give aid to the wounded and battle-worn, the abandoned and orphaned soldiers of
Him whom we serve and love? Where is the
sanctuary that we can bring them in - to pour on them the balm- the oil of His
healing, cover them with a blanket of His love, feed them with the bread of His
broken body and serve them the wine of His blood. Who will serve the wounded? Who will minister His love to these
abandoned? Who will care for these orphaned?
So I see as
He has shown me, the awful condition of the church today. I ache to draw the wounded orphaned and abandoned
soldiers of His army into a sanctuary of His love. Lord what would You have me do? How and where shall I go to serve You? Send me the battered, torn, and bleeding that
the church has turned her face away from.
Let me pour Your oil on their wounds and be the balm to tend to their
bruised bodies, let me cover them with a blanket of Your love and touch them
with the healing of Your heart.
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