The Missing Robe, The colors of Salvation

I once was noble, a man of high esteem. I dined with the Kings and rulers of my time. However, I fell upon hard times, watched my riches drain away. All I held dear was lost. My only possession of value was this robe, a robe fit for a king, bought with my sweat. A robe that symbolises all that I am, all that I was.

I hear there’s a wedding feast, the king’s son is getting married. How delightful… However, there’s no need rejoicing. For the likes of me would never be invited. My nobility is a thing of the past and only nobles attend the ball of the King… Or so I thought.

I saw the chariots race past and stop at the house of Josephus. He’d just bought a new pair of oxen priced from the far hills of Persia, an oxen so fine it is said to plow four times the speed of our Jerusalem oxen. He was going to test it out today, hence he declined the invitation of the King.

I see the chariots race again in the glistening sun, to the houses of all the nobles, but each time, they come back empty. The nobles have their schedules packed out. They are nobility, remember? The only ones with the courage to reject the king.

The chariots now race past the carcass that was once my home, not slowing down a bit, not giving it a second glance.

However, a while later, more chariots come from the Palace inviting everyone one on the streets, the beggers, the thieves, the drunks, the prostitutes… The prostitutes!!! How can the king stoop so low?! He invited the prostitutes… Many of which I knew so well. How can the King invite prostitutes and drunks to His ball???

While I stand still horrified, the chariots came to a stop before me, startling me back to reality. The rider calls me by name. And says the king personally invites to the ball of his son. My head was spinning with joy and the sweet taste of recognition. Finally, someone has begun to identify me as the noble man I was.

Then he hands me a robe. A robe well suited for nobility. I put it on it, my face gleaming with pride. I was nobility once again.

But my joy is short-lived, I hear shrieks of joy all around. Then I realized that everyone had been given the same garment. Everyone, even the prostitutes!!! How can I go to a ball dressed in the same garment as a prostitute?

Never!!! If the King has decided to stoop this low, I won’t! I raced to my house and found my robe. It was tattered but it far outweighs being dressed in the same uniform as a prostitute and a drunk. This robe depicted my honor, I earned this robe, it represented all that I was, all that I worked for. Though old and torn, it was different. The King will surely recognise me with this and set me apart from the rest of these riffraffs.

I walk into the banquet, being careful to avoid the drunks and prostitutes, for I can’t risk being identified as one of them.

I ensured that I sat apart, hoping to be recognized by the King as the noble man I once was…

Then, I heard the word “Friend”. It came from the voice I’ve known too well but not heard in a while. The rich baritone that consoles a soothing child yet strikes fear in the heart of hardened warriors.

I turn to the direction of his voice, only to see his face having an unpleasant demeanor. I recognized that the face held disappointment and disgust.

Then, He asked, “Why haven’t you put on the robes I gave you? Why have you desecrated my sons ball with the filtiness of your own garment? This day was meant to be about my son and his love but you’ve made it about yourself!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, I felt the cold hands of the guards lifting me off my feet and in a twinkle of an eye I was thrown into darkness. A place he says I belong. A place which I now dwell, for I esteemed my righteousness above that of the King.

This is my story. The story of a noble now lost.

The “visionless” 10

I recently wrote on “the power of the visionary one”.
That’s one side of the story,  I’ll balance it by saying “there’s also power in the visionless 10”.

In the book of numbers,  the Bible tells of  12 spies who were sent to scout Canaan.  On their return, all the spies agreed that the land was good and productive, bringing with them evidence of its productivity.
Ten started telling stories of giants that lived in the land; Giants who devoured men whole (reminds me of Jack and the beanstalk)  and other woes they’ll encounter if they try to take the city.

Two were of the opinion that they sack the city at once,  while the remainder insisted that it was a suicide mission.

Unfortunately,  majority carried the vote. The stories of the 10 spies quickly spread round the camp, scaring the people so much that they wept all night.  By morning, they had abandoned the mission,  thus wandering the desert for 40 years.

Sometimes, the visionless 10 can have more impact than the visionary one,  leading a nation or business into turmoil.

Be the visionary one

Ps: After 40 years, the children of Israel eventually went in and sacked the city and took it for themselves. They were lead by the visionary two. Unfortunately, the visionless 10 died wandering the wilderness, never seeing the Giants again.

The end

God is faithful

God’s faithful
Sometimes we lose hope after we pray, sometimes we forget we ever prayed and get used to bad situations

Then from heaven God stretches forth His hand,  reaching down and grabbing us out of the situation. Doing in such a way that have no reason to doubt He’s the doer.

In the midst of darkness He shines forth His light. In the midst of despair He breathes His life.
Search the scriptures they are filled with verses of God’s faithfulness

I am not Superman

I ripped open the shirt and there was no armour,  neither was there an “S”  shield. Then I realised I was not impenetrable. I am susceptible to pain, to hurt, to discouragement.
Victories of yesterday sometimes seem like a fleeting memory, whilst been pressed by the pressures of today. At some points I want to throw in the towel and just give up.
I am not Superman.

If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at. We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken.
  2 Corinthians 4:7-10
I just realised,  I am a different kind of man, a different species of being. I am powerful,  strengthened not by the yellow sun but by the resurrected Son. 
Kryptonite means nothing to me, i tread upon snakes and scorpions.
Though my body may break and decay, though I may feel the residual pangs of humanity, I am neither mortal or immortal, I exist as eternal.

I exist in the image and likeness of the God.

I am not Superman,  I am a son of God. I guess that puts me in the God class

The little big book

In a world with so much information, everyone moves around looking for the right
information to meet his or her needs. But, more often than not, they end up finding
nothing but broken dreams and wasted money. Occasionally some of them stumble upon a book. A little big book which can clothe the poor, mend the broken hearted, grant comfort to the
lonely and bring peace to the weary. It can single handedly solve all of man’s problems yet it was written with the fingers of man but inspired by God.
Although a lot of people have this book in their possession only few can see past
the black and white and see the power in that lies in pages within.

Trials of a Christian

Some days we sit, asking if our prayers have been heard.
When we are all alone in the darkness of our troubles, confused, wondering if our lives will eventually amount to anything.
Days like these we doubt everything we’ve ever know about God, we sometimes venture into doubting the existence of God himself.

The trail of our faith is a very scary experience, it can make an unbeliever out of a clergymen. And turn the most devout of Christians into godless men. But if endured to the end it yields great results.

*[[Jas 1:3-4]] KJV* Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.

SIMPLE THOUGHTS – In the face of despair

I can’t give up, not now, not ever, too much has been sacrificed for me to be here.
I am yet to get to my destination.
I can’t give up, it’ll be a shame,  after all these pain and suffering,  there’s no reward, no success to show for it.
I can’t give up, it’s  not by power nor by might but by the spirit.
Grace is enough to hold me.