Post by annemc on Feb 20, 2014 3:02:38 GMT
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.
mod edit] full story located at: rapturewatch.boards.net/thread/326/path
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.
mod edit] full story located at: rapturewatch.boards.net/thread/326/path
