THE PRODIGAL – By M.G.Wallace

THE PRODIGAL
By M.G.Wallace

What happened to her? Where did she go?
The one with the laugh and never a foe.
She’d light up the room with only a smile,
Lending a hand or an ear all the while.

Somewhere along the journey of life
Her heart was consumed by darkness and strife.
When did it change? How can she know?
She faded too slowly to see it go.

Confused by the hurt and turmoil of late,
She wonders if this is really her fate.
There’s only one answer for the state that she’s in
But she can’t see it clearly through the veil of sin.

What’s that?!? A light is piercing right through.
It started out small and she watched as it grew.
With ripping and tearing is the veil torn away
Instantly turning her night into day.

And now with the warmth of the Light on her face
She’s enveloped by Mercy, Forgiveness and Grace.
“Where have you been?”, to her Lord she cried out.
“You were gone for so long, I started to doubt.”

“My daughter,” He said, “I’ve always been here.
You just couldn’t see me because of your fear.”
“Oh Jesus, forgive me, for running away!
I promise to never again go astray.
I know in my heart my life is made new
As long as my eyes remain always on You.”

This poem reminds me about a video of my awesome friend Angela:

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLyvYzcvXpc


Posted in Jesus Revolution, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , by with 1 comment.

One more week till… I’m in the dumps!

I’ll be heading out with Sons of Thunder and Joy Revolution to shine the love of Jesus among those living in actual garbage dumps! We’ll be visiting the beautiful country of Indonesia! Awesome!! Yeshua Jesus is going with us!!!

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iU_-Dfpv0Y&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1


Posted in Biography, Jesus Revolution, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , by with no comments yet.

An Emblem of Love

I gave my back to the smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair. – Isaiah 50:6

I am reminded of a young mother whose face was badly disfigured.
Her little girl was continually ridiculed by the children in school because
of her mother’s appearance.

When the little girl was old enough, the mother explained to her that
when she was a baby there was a dreadful fire in the apartment and,
although the mother was able to save the little girl, the mother herself
suffered very severe burns in the process. From that day on, the little girl
was no longer embarrassed about her mother. Every time she looked
into her mother’s face it was a reminder of just how much she was loved.

Is it possible that, in addition to the nail prints, there were additional
scars-perhaps where His beard used to be-that caused their difficulty in
recognizing Him? Are they still there? Does Jesus still bear the marks of
His humiliation?

In the Book of Revelation, John is propelled forward in time some several
thousand years and is granted a vision of the throne of God. In
Revelation 5 we find “the lamb as it had been slain,” apparently still
bearing the scars of the cross. They say that the only man-made things in heaven are His scars.

When Jesus returns to rule Israel, He proclaims,
“And they shall look upon me whom they have pierced.”

The marks of His humiliation are also the marks of His glory.

Furthermore, I’m sure the most significant aspects of the cross were not
the physical or physiological aspects. I believe it will take us an eternity
to even begin to understand what it cost Him that we might be with Him.

He was born of a woman so that we could be born of God.
He humbled Himself so that we could be lifted up.
He became a servant so that we could be made co-heirs.
He suffered rejection so that we could become His friends.

How precious our Redeemer is! Have you really thanked Him lately?

or HAVE YOU EVER??

Copyright and exerpted from: http://www.khouse.org/articles/1999/52/


Posted in BrenT's ThoughtS, Jesus Revolution and tagged , , , , , , , , by with 1 comment.

Revolutionary Vision

The Vision – by Pete Greig

So this guy comes up to me and says:
“what’s the vision? What’s the big idea?”
I open my mouth and words come out like this:

The vision?

The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus!

The vision is an army of young people.
You see bones? I see an army.
And they are FREE from materialism.

They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.
They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday.
They wouldn’t even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.

They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations.
They need no passport.
People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision ?

The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.
It makes children laugh and adults angry.
It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars.
It scorns the good and strains for the best.
It is dangerously pure.

Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.
It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.
This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose,
that they might one day win
the great ‘Well done’ of faithful sons and daughters.

Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don’t need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again:

“COME ON!”

And this is the sound of the underground
The whisper of history in the making
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing…
This is the sound of the underground

And the army is disciplined.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.
The tattoo on their back boasts “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain”.

Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.
Winners. Martyrs.
Who can stop them ?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them ?

And the generation prays

like a dying man
with groans beyond talking,
with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and
with great barrow loads of laughter!
Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.

Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.

They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive

Inside.

On the outside? They hardly care.
They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.
Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives – swap seats with the man on death row – guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.

With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centres.

Don’t you hear them coming?

Herald the weirdos! Summon the losers and the freaks.
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.

And this vision will be.
It will come to pass;
it will come easily;
it will come soon.

How do I know?

Because this is the longing of creation itself,
the groaning of the Spirit,
the very dream of God.

My tomorrow is his today.
My distant hope is his 3D.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great ‘Amen!’ from countless angels, from heroes of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
Guaranteed.


Posted in Jesus Revolution, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , by with no comments yet.