Post by annemc on Feb 18, 2014 0:34:30 GMT
It wasn’t even a path! Just a track such as sheep would make and in places almost covered with blackberry bushes. I soldiered on intent on where I was going. I hadn’t gone far when a black snake slithered across the track in front of me, frightening me, but not enough to turn back. It was quite dark in the forest and trees arched over my way, but still I heard that quiet voice saying:
“This is the way. Walk ye in it”.
And always ahead of me that narrow, perilous track. Always observable as though lit with enticing light.
Suddenly the peace was shattered by laughing, raucous voices. Peering through the gloom I realised that the other path I’d seen at the start of my journey was running almost parallel to my track. It was a very wide path, ashphalted and much easier to walk than the bush track. A group of people walking 6 or 7 abreast laughed and joked as they went, eating and drinking, and quite oblivious of the struggles that I was having with tree roots, brambles, ditches and pot holes. How I would have loved some of their food and drink, and even their trendy clothes. And how good it would have been to have company. Those people seemed to have everything!
Determined to follow my course, I plugged on regardless, following the track which veered away and began to ascend a steep hill. I was almost to the top when a vast panorama opened out before my eyes. Mile after mile of beauty. Rolling hills and tranquil lakes. And to my amazement, way below me was the wide path. But what stunned me was that the wide path had taken its travellers nowhere, but in a wide circle. Surely the signpost had deceived them.
Poor people!
I shouted and yelled to them but they were seemingly oblivious to my cries . How could I help them? I couldn’t go back and coerce them, and they seemed so happy I doubted they’d come anyway. Then, with horror I realised that the beautiful, wide path ended in an abrupt cliff over a deep abyss toward which the group were walking, still talking and laughing.
Without exception they fell.
Wiping tears from my eyes I climbed the last few steps to the top.
And there before me shining golden in the sun lay the new Jerusalem, gates spread wide to receive me, and the One who had shown me the way , waiting with open arms. I ran.
----- part 2 -----
I’d only been walking the narrow way a matter of weeks when it happened.
The path was twisting and turning between huge boulders when I came to a clearing and there He stood .
Behind him, lying on the grass were two large, heavy-looking pieces of wood, fixed together to form a cross. He spoke:
“It’s yours. I want you to carry it every day as you travel the path.”
“But Lord”, I cried, “People only carry a cross if they’re going to be crucified! Am I going to die?”
“Yes. You will.. You must die to self in order for me to control your life. It will no longer be you who lives, but me, in you. Are you willing?”
“Yes Lord, of course I am, but how will I carry it. I’m not strong?” I replied as I bent to take up my cross.
“No, you’re not strong, but I am, and you’ll do it in my strength” he said smiling.
It wasn’t heavy and as I straightened up I realised that he was gone.
Several days passed and late one afternoon the narrow path came parallel with that broad, wide path that seemed crowded with happy laughing people. It seemed almost as though the sun shone more brightly on that appealingly paved road, whereas my lonely track seemed to be in shadow and gloom.
An old friend in one group called out:
“Anne! Where are you going? Why don’t you put down that heavy cross and come with us. We’re going to the pub for tea and then on dancing. It’ll be fun. Come on!”
“Not today, thanks”, I replied. I seemed to have completely lost interest in the old pursuits.
The path was often lonely, but one day I caught up with a friend, valiantly carrying her cross over a rocky pass. We greeted one another joyfully and spent several days enjoying fellowship. Until the day that the path twisted around and down a cliff face, where once again it paralleled that wide paved path filled with many pleasure seekers. The sea spread invitingly before us, its dappled surface sparkling in the bright midday sun. It was here my friend lay down her cross in the grass and waded into the sea. I watched her, splashing and shrieking with the other fun-lovers till I couldn’t see her any more.
I waited all night for her to return for her cross.
She didn’t come.
The tears ran down my cheeks as I took up my cross and resumed my journey.
“Are you OK?”
I hadn’t noticed the old man coming up behind me, but he’d obviously noticed my tears.
When I explained about my friend he said: “There’s a clearing up ahead. Why don’t we stop and have a drink and you can tell me all about it.”
It was a pretty little clearing and in the centre was an old stone well, with a wooden bucket for drawing up the water. Filling a flask the old man brought it me and told me to keep it.
“It will never run dry and it will always satisfy.”
“What is this place?”, I asked.
“It’s the well of Comfort and Direction” he replied..
“You know” he continued, “You made a choice didn’t you. You chose to enter in at the straight gate and walk the narrow way. But even on this narrow path there’s a choice to be made and it’s hugely critical. Your friend chose to put down her cross and pursue happiness, but you have chosen to pursue holiness, and that’s the only path that is truly pleasing to God.”
He reached out and patted my hand.
“Stay on that path. Please Him.”
.And with that he curled up beside his cross and fell almost instantly asleep.
Next morning I awoke with the sun to see him heading of up the path. His back was bent with age and he walked with a stick in one hand and his cross firmly supported in the other.
Finally I reached that steep little hill that I’ve told you about.
Knowing what I’d see at the top I couldn’t wait to get there. I climbed eagerly to the top and there it was. That beautiful city of gold! The gates were flung wide and there He stood in the gateway waiting.
It was then I looked down and noticed her.
My friend from the beach.
Her head hung low and her steps faltered. And she wasn’t carrying her cross.
She obviously hadn’t bothered to go back for it.
And empty handed she reached the Son of God.
But His arms reached out for her and she was welcomed in to that beautiful city.
Then I heard a shout below and I looked down and there was the old man heading for the city.
An amazing thing happened.
He began to run. And he ran with the spring of a young man and in the twinkling of an eye his old clothes fell away to reveal a white gown as bright as the noonday sun. His stick fell unnoticed onto the sand, and he carried his cross as though it were made of feathers.
And he fell into that glorious embrace.
And as he did, a shout, like the voice of a mighty trumpet echoed around the plain!
“Well done! Good and faithful servant! Enter thou into the joy of the Lord!”
And then it was my turn.
----- part 3 -----
Uh-oh!
Looking narrower than ever the path literally fell down the side of a deep ravine heading into a dark valley. Stumbling and falling and sliding on loose stones, I reached the bottom bruised and sore.
My hands were cut and bleeding and my heart raced at such unaccustomed exercise. To make matters worse the path seemed to end at a fast moving stream which looked deep and cold. I could see where the path took up again on the other side of the river and my heart sank at the sure and certain knowledge that I would have to traverse that stream.
The waters were deep and cold, and by the time I clambered out on the other side I was shaking and exhausted. Sitting under a tree I succumbed to self pity and head in hands I wept. It was then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the beloved face of Him who loves me.
“Lord! Where were you?” I demanded.
“With you every step of the way” He replied. “You were too self-engrossed to see me.”
“Lord?”
“Yes”
“I seem to have lost my peace and joy!” I cried.
“Do you still trust me?” He replied
I leapt to my feet.
“Lord, of course I trust you! I always have and I always will!” I cried.
“Then don’t worry about peace and joy. They are not a measure of your love for me. They come from the heart. Trust comes from the will. Keep walking the Way and remember I am always with you.”
And suddenly He was gone and I found myself, in an instant, at the top of a hill, looking down upon a large town. In the distance I saw a church spire and found myself running down the path which was smooth and obstruction-free. I remembered it was Sunday and longed for fellowship with other travellers along the narrow path.
It was a petite, wooden building beside a small, lonely cemetery sleeping in the sun. It wasn’t till I got closer that I saw the tall weeds growing right up to its walls. Autumn leaves had blown into the tiny front porch and a little mouse had gone to his eternal rest on the worn doorstep. A large noticeboard announcing Sunday Worship and Wednesday night Prayer Meeting was covered in graffiti and the silence from the little wooden church was deafening.
Pushing on further into the town I heard music coming from, what looked like, a large warehouse. Closer inspection revealed it as a church, with a noticeboard announcing “Family, friends, fun and fellowship - 10.00am Sunday” Not quite my scene, but I stepped inside as inconspicuously as possible, slipping into a seat beside the door. The service had obviously been going for some time. People wandered about helping themselves to coffee as singers on a stage gyrated to music that pandered to self. Strobe lights and smoke hovered about the pulpit and I wondered if I’d wandered into a night club.
At a gentle touch on my shoulder I looked at the hand and was amazed to see the nail prints.
As I looked into that beloved face He warned me with a touch of a finger on His lips. Then slowly He walked to the front of the building. I held my breath waiting for the reaction.
Nothing happened. They kept drinking coffee and the singers on the stage had their eyes closed as the Son of God stood in their midst.
Without a thought I rushed to the front of the building, yelling as I went:
“Look! He’s here! Jesus! He’s here! Can’t you see Him?”
Instantly half a dozen young men rushed to my side and taking my arms began leading me out, all the while murmuring comfort to someone they supposed out of her mind. A plump middle-aged woman approached us and cried: “Go away! You’re not wanted here!” And with that the men thrust me outside and shut the door.
“I’m not wanted here either. They’re happy with their religion here. They don’t want a relationship with me.”
And He took me by the hand and led toward a dense forest on the outskirts of the town.
It was there that we came across them. A group of about 7 or 8 people sitting on folding chairs and their heads bowed in prayer. He motioned me to sit and He stood in the middle as they prayed on. The prayers were most uplifting. These people certainly had a relationship with the most high God. There were no pews, or guitars, or coffee, or soulish music. These people were worshipping in spirit and in truth .
When they opened their eyes and saw Him standing in the midst they were astonished, but before long the joy came. Then He sat with them and taught them and we were all amazed.
Finally He stood, and as He prepared to go He smilingly put a hand on each shoulder in blessing. A gentle pressure on mine telling me to stay awhile with these people.
In moving to leave, His robe brushed the feet of an elderly lady whose hand reached out to hold His.
“Lord?’
“Yes?” He smiled down at her.
“Will you come back for us soon?”
With a serious look He turned and included us all in His answer:
“ Very, very soon!”
[mod edit] Edited to include all 3 parts of the story.
“This is the way. Walk ye in it”.
And always ahead of me that narrow, perilous track. Always observable as though lit with enticing light.
Suddenly the peace was shattered by laughing, raucous voices. Peering through the gloom I realised that the other path I’d seen at the start of my journey was running almost parallel to my track. It was a very wide path, ashphalted and much easier to walk than the bush track. A group of people walking 6 or 7 abreast laughed and joked as they went, eating and drinking, and quite oblivious of the struggles that I was having with tree roots, brambles, ditches and pot holes. How I would have loved some of their food and drink, and even their trendy clothes. And how good it would have been to have company. Those people seemed to have everything!
Determined to follow my course, I plugged on regardless, following the track which veered away and began to ascend a steep hill. I was almost to the top when a vast panorama opened out before my eyes. Mile after mile of beauty. Rolling hills and tranquil lakes. And to my amazement, way below me was the wide path. But what stunned me was that the wide path had taken its travellers nowhere, but in a wide circle. Surely the signpost had deceived them.
Poor people!
I shouted and yelled to them but they were seemingly oblivious to my cries . How could I help them? I couldn’t go back and coerce them, and they seemed so happy I doubted they’d come anyway. Then, with horror I realised that the beautiful, wide path ended in an abrupt cliff over a deep abyss toward which the group were walking, still talking and laughing.
Without exception they fell.
Wiping tears from my eyes I climbed the last few steps to the top.
And there before me shining golden in the sun lay the new Jerusalem, gates spread wide to receive me, and the One who had shown me the way , waiting with open arms. I ran.
----- part 2 -----
I’d only been walking the narrow way a matter of weeks when it happened.
The path was twisting and turning between huge boulders when I came to a clearing and there He stood .
Behind him, lying on the grass were two large, heavy-looking pieces of wood, fixed together to form a cross. He spoke:
“It’s yours. I want you to carry it every day as you travel the path.”
“But Lord”, I cried, “People only carry a cross if they’re going to be crucified! Am I going to die?”
“Yes. You will.. You must die to self in order for me to control your life. It will no longer be you who lives, but me, in you. Are you willing?”
“Yes Lord, of course I am, but how will I carry it. I’m not strong?” I replied as I bent to take up my cross.
“No, you’re not strong, but I am, and you’ll do it in my strength” he said smiling.
It wasn’t heavy and as I straightened up I realised that he was gone.
Several days passed and late one afternoon the narrow path came parallel with that broad, wide path that seemed crowded with happy laughing people. It seemed almost as though the sun shone more brightly on that appealingly paved road, whereas my lonely track seemed to be in shadow and gloom.
An old friend in one group called out:
“Anne! Where are you going? Why don’t you put down that heavy cross and come with us. We’re going to the pub for tea and then on dancing. It’ll be fun. Come on!”
“Not today, thanks”, I replied. I seemed to have completely lost interest in the old pursuits.
The path was often lonely, but one day I caught up with a friend, valiantly carrying her cross over a rocky pass. We greeted one another joyfully and spent several days enjoying fellowship. Until the day that the path twisted around and down a cliff face, where once again it paralleled that wide paved path filled with many pleasure seekers. The sea spread invitingly before us, its dappled surface sparkling in the bright midday sun. It was here my friend lay down her cross in the grass and waded into the sea. I watched her, splashing and shrieking with the other fun-lovers till I couldn’t see her any more.
I waited all night for her to return for her cross.
She didn’t come.
The tears ran down my cheeks as I took up my cross and resumed my journey.
“Are you OK?”
I hadn’t noticed the old man coming up behind me, but he’d obviously noticed my tears.
When I explained about my friend he said: “There’s a clearing up ahead. Why don’t we stop and have a drink and you can tell me all about it.”
It was a pretty little clearing and in the centre was an old stone well, with a wooden bucket for drawing up the water. Filling a flask the old man brought it me and told me to keep it.
“It will never run dry and it will always satisfy.”
“What is this place?”, I asked.
“It’s the well of Comfort and Direction” he replied..
“You know” he continued, “You made a choice didn’t you. You chose to enter in at the straight gate and walk the narrow way. But even on this narrow path there’s a choice to be made and it’s hugely critical. Your friend chose to put down her cross and pursue happiness, but you have chosen to pursue holiness, and that’s the only path that is truly pleasing to God.”
He reached out and patted my hand.
“Stay on that path. Please Him.”
.And with that he curled up beside his cross and fell almost instantly asleep.
Next morning I awoke with the sun to see him heading of up the path. His back was bent with age and he walked with a stick in one hand and his cross firmly supported in the other.
Finally I reached that steep little hill that I’ve told you about.
Knowing what I’d see at the top I couldn’t wait to get there. I climbed eagerly to the top and there it was. That beautiful city of gold! The gates were flung wide and there He stood in the gateway waiting.
It was then I looked down and noticed her.
My friend from the beach.
Her head hung low and her steps faltered. And she wasn’t carrying her cross.
She obviously hadn’t bothered to go back for it.
And empty handed she reached the Son of God.
But His arms reached out for her and she was welcomed in to that beautiful city.
Then I heard a shout below and I looked down and there was the old man heading for the city.
An amazing thing happened.
He began to run. And he ran with the spring of a young man and in the twinkling of an eye his old clothes fell away to reveal a white gown as bright as the noonday sun. His stick fell unnoticed onto the sand, and he carried his cross as though it were made of feathers.
And he fell into that glorious embrace.
And as he did, a shout, like the voice of a mighty trumpet echoed around the plain!
“Well done! Good and faithful servant! Enter thou into the joy of the Lord!”
And then it was my turn.
----- part 3 -----
Uh-oh!
Looking narrower than ever the path literally fell down the side of a deep ravine heading into a dark valley. Stumbling and falling and sliding on loose stones, I reached the bottom bruised and sore.
My hands were cut and bleeding and my heart raced at such unaccustomed exercise. To make matters worse the path seemed to end at a fast moving stream which looked deep and cold. I could see where the path took up again on the other side of the river and my heart sank at the sure and certain knowledge that I would have to traverse that stream.
The waters were deep and cold, and by the time I clambered out on the other side I was shaking and exhausted. Sitting under a tree I succumbed to self pity and head in hands I wept. It was then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the beloved face of Him who loves me.
“Lord! Where were you?” I demanded.
“With you every step of the way” He replied. “You were too self-engrossed to see me.”
“Lord?”
“Yes”
“I seem to have lost my peace and joy!” I cried.
“Do you still trust me?” He replied
I leapt to my feet.
“Lord, of course I trust you! I always have and I always will!” I cried.
“Then don’t worry about peace and joy. They are not a measure of your love for me. They come from the heart. Trust comes from the will. Keep walking the Way and remember I am always with you.”
And suddenly He was gone and I found myself, in an instant, at the top of a hill, looking down upon a large town. In the distance I saw a church spire and found myself running down the path which was smooth and obstruction-free. I remembered it was Sunday and longed for fellowship with other travellers along the narrow path.
It was a petite, wooden building beside a small, lonely cemetery sleeping in the sun. It wasn’t till I got closer that I saw the tall weeds growing right up to its walls. Autumn leaves had blown into the tiny front porch and a little mouse had gone to his eternal rest on the worn doorstep. A large noticeboard announcing Sunday Worship and Wednesday night Prayer Meeting was covered in graffiti and the silence from the little wooden church was deafening.
Pushing on further into the town I heard music coming from, what looked like, a large warehouse. Closer inspection revealed it as a church, with a noticeboard announcing “Family, friends, fun and fellowship - 10.00am Sunday” Not quite my scene, but I stepped inside as inconspicuously as possible, slipping into a seat beside the door. The service had obviously been going for some time. People wandered about helping themselves to coffee as singers on a stage gyrated to music that pandered to self. Strobe lights and smoke hovered about the pulpit and I wondered if I’d wandered into a night club.
At a gentle touch on my shoulder I looked at the hand and was amazed to see the nail prints.
As I looked into that beloved face He warned me with a touch of a finger on His lips. Then slowly He walked to the front of the building. I held my breath waiting for the reaction.
Nothing happened. They kept drinking coffee and the singers on the stage had their eyes closed as the Son of God stood in their midst.
Without a thought I rushed to the front of the building, yelling as I went:
“Look! He’s here! Jesus! He’s here! Can’t you see Him?”
Instantly half a dozen young men rushed to my side and taking my arms began leading me out, all the while murmuring comfort to someone they supposed out of her mind. A plump middle-aged woman approached us and cried: “Go away! You’re not wanted here!” And with that the men thrust me outside and shut the door.
“I’m not wanted here either. They’re happy with their religion here. They don’t want a relationship with me.”
And He took me by the hand and led toward a dense forest on the outskirts of the town.
It was there that we came across them. A group of about 7 or 8 people sitting on folding chairs and their heads bowed in prayer. He motioned me to sit and He stood in the middle as they prayed on. The prayers were most uplifting. These people certainly had a relationship with the most high God. There were no pews, or guitars, or coffee, or soulish music. These people were worshipping in spirit and in truth .
When they opened their eyes and saw Him standing in the midst they were astonished, but before long the joy came. Then He sat with them and taught them and we were all amazed.
Finally He stood, and as He prepared to go He smilingly put a hand on each shoulder in blessing. A gentle pressure on mine telling me to stay awhile with these people.
In moving to leave, His robe brushed the feet of an elderly lady whose hand reached out to hold His.
“Lord?’
“Yes?” He smiled down at her.
“Will you come back for us soon?”
With a serious look He turned and included us all in His answer:
“ Very, very soon!”
[mod edit] Edited to include all 3 parts of the story.