The Path -continued

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!”



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