I have been working on a book on the warnings of Jesus concerning difficult times that are coming. However, a recent doctor appointment gave me a different perspective on my cancer. This has changed my approach to a number of things in my life including my work on this book. Although I am still not sure how quickly the drink offering of my life is being poured out to God, I believe I need to walk more wisely in relation to time.

Ephesians 5:15-17 speaks pointedly to this.

“Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.”

I believe it wisest, concerning the book, to write snatches of what I believe God is pressing upon me, and post them in my blogs rather than worrying about layout and presentation for the book. 

So beginning this week, I will post something on praying in the Spirit which would come much later in the book but has come together in my mind.

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

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DO YOU LOVE ME?

John 21:15-18

At the very end of the Gospel of John 

Jesus asked Simon Peter a crucial question of discipleship.

“Do you love me?”

Everything we do under the motivation of the Holy Spirit will be motivated to some extent by our devotion to the Lord Jesus. A universe of spiritual depth can be mined from this passage. Everyone who follows Jesus would benefit from memorizing these verses, asking God to give you more and more insight into them. 

These verses call us to a priority of loving our Lord. Jesus began by asking Simon if he loved Him “more than these things.” I believe Jesus was referring to Simon’s life as a successful fisherman rather than a fisher of men. But of course the question applies to anything in our lives that we are tempted to love more than we love Him. Do you love success, or approval, or comfort or anything more than you love Jesus? 

We often try to do godly things with inferior motivation. You can enter any discipline of discipleship so other people will be impressed. Do you want people to notice your spiritual depth? I have been trying to discipline myself to do some things that I never tell anyone about. God already knows. To be honest I have not been completely successful at telling no one. But that is what I am reaching for. I want to do these things simply because they please God.

Let me show you something in these verses that may not be self-evident in whatever language you study God’s word. In Greek, the original language of the New Testament, Peter and Jesus use different words for love. Their differences are significant.

Jesus used the word, AGAPAO. This is the word used for love in 1 Corinthians 13. This word actually receives it's depth of meaning from the Bible. It was not commonly used in other Greek writings. There its meaning was vague. In the New Testament we see it as a supernatural work of God in our lives.

I suspect Peter thought PHILAO, the word he used, was the stronger term. It spoke of strong feelings. Peter drew from this kind of love when he declared to Jesus in John 13:37, “I will lay down my life for you.”

If you look at AGAPE, or the verb, AGAPAO, as defined in the New Testament, you find faithfulness rather than feelings. Jesus points this out with His responses to Peter’s assurances of his devotion. “Feed my lambs,” “Shepherd my sheep,” and “Feed my sheep.” I am reminded of familiar bumper stickers of the 1960s. One read, “Honk if you love Jesus.” A similar sticker responded, “Tithe if you love Jesus. Anyone can honk.”

This is a call to repentance. And while I don’t believe Peter noticed the difference, Jesus used PHILAO this third time He asked. In Mark 14:29 Peter declared his devotion to Jesus. “Even though they all fall away, I will not.” That night, as Jesus had warned, he denied the Lord three times. I do not think it is a coincidence that Jesus asked Peter to answer the question of his love three times in this post resurrection appearance. It broke Peter's heart, that Jesus asked three times if he loved him. I believe true repentance is always emotional. It was also an opportunity for Peter to commit again to following Jesus. 

We need to pray for God to deepen the faithfulness of our love for Him. The night that Jesus was arrested they went to the garden where Jesus poured His heart out in prayer. The Lord asked Peter, James and John to watch with Him in prayer. But they could not stay awake. And three times Peter went to sleep when he should have been praying. Jesus warned them to “Watch and pray so you will not fall into temptation.” We build our love for Him in earnest prayer. There is no other way to keep from falling when temptation comes. AGAPE does not rest on the fierceness of our devotion, but on the power of God in our lives.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

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http://daveswatch.com/

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Amazon Author Central page.

My book, SIGNS, is out!

Please pray with me for God to use it as He desires

"SIGNS: Stories highlighting the signs recorded in The Gospel of John," is available to buy on Amazon.

You will not yet find SIGNS there, but you can see all of my published books on my Amazon Author Page, Amazon Author Central

My book, SIGNS, is out!

Please pray with me for God to use it as He desires

"SIGNS: Stories highlighting the signs recorded in The Gospel of John," is available to buy on Amazon.

You will not yet find SIGNS there, but you can see all of my published books on my Amazon Author Page, Amazon Author Central

My book, SIGNS, is out!

Please pray with me for God to use it as He desires

"SIGNS: Stories highlighting the signs recorded in The Gospel of John," is available to buy on Amazon.

You will not yet find SIGNS there, but you can see all of my published books on my Amazon Author Page, Amazon Author Central

The three of them were at the end of their endurance, but they ran on through the thickening trees. They hoped the woods had discouraged their pursuers. Dhanua, who was in the lead, was Malayali and roughly familiar with this part of India. But he did not know where they were now. As they came to the darkest part of the jungle, all three fell on their faces in exhaustion. Their pursuers would eventually find them if they were still on their trail. They heard later that one of their adversaries had been injured in their haste to catch them. The others had little choice, but to carry him back to their village. 

Ihita, who had been in the rear, was first to recover. He tried to revive the others. Thomas, the foreign preacher, who was called an apostle, stirred but did not fully wake. Dhanua did not respond at all. The darkness was getting thicker. It would soon be night. They would need a fire for protection. He searched the woods until he found a small clearing with a large rock. Soon Thomas had revived enough to help gather stones into a circle where they could kindle a small fire. By the time they got the first embers to crackle with flames, Ihita staggered up. They still had a small meat pie purchased at a market the day before. Thomas had some nuts and Ihita had a mashed mango at the bottom of his satchel. They boiled water from a stream and made a hot drink.

They huddled around the flames and sang a hymn that a man in the church on the coast had written. With a simple tune, it spoke of the death and resurrection of Jesus. They each lifted a short prayer of thanksgiving before they cut the pie into three pieces, dividing the rest of the food between them. They would have to find food and clean water in the morning. But what they had was satisfying tonight. As they finished the meal, Thomas asked the others what they loved best about following Jesus. 

Ihita said, “The love of God. I had never heard of such a thing until you came to us.” 

Dhanua nodded and said he enjoyed sharing the love of Jesus with other believers. “We have not seen any since we left the coastal towns, but some may yet accept Christ on this trip.” 

All three were silent for a moment, and then Dhanua said, “We love the peace we have when we travel with you, Thomas. We face hardships and losses. We often don’t know where our next meal will come from. We may soon be attacked by those who think we are their enemies. But when we have a moment to pray together, the peace of our Lord settles on us.”

Thomas said, “Jesus gave us His peace. And while our hearts don’t always understand it, we can rest in Him.”

Ihita said, “It comes from the Holy Spirit that you have taught us about.”

“That is true,” Thomas said. “The Spirit reminds us of God's grace even when things are difficult. By His Spirit, we know Jesus is with us.”

Ihita said, “We sense it best when we are actually with you, Thomas.”

“That is because I saw him after he rose from death. His life has been burned into my memory. To tell you the truth, I almost missed it. I am ashamed of my lack of faith on that first day after He rose. I was so horrified by His crucifixion that I did not want to see anyone. The other disciples gathered to comfort each other. Mary Magdalene had told them He had risen, but that was more than they could understand or believe until they saw Him themselves.

“They were hiding behind locked doors in fear of our own people who had arrested Jesus. Suddenly Jesus stood in their midst. His first words were, “Peace be with you.” He showed them His nail scarred hands and His side that had been pierced by the soldier’s spear. It was important for Him to show them that He was truly Jesus. They wept with joy that night. They sought me out the next day and told me with great enthusiasm that Jesus was alive. They had seen Him face to face. This was more than I was able to believe.

“I told them I would not believe unless I saw the nail prints in His hands. I stamped my foot. ‘Unless I put my own finger in the nail marks and thrust my hand into the gaping wound in His side I will never believe.’

“The other disciples kept me with them, even though I did not share their joy. They still loved me with the Master’s love. About a week later, we were all together when Jesus appeared as before. Again, he said, ‘Peace be with you.’ He turned to me and said, ‘Come here, Thomas. Do you see the nail prints in my hands? Come put your hand in my side. Don't be an unbeliever but believe.’ All I could say was, ‘My Lord and my God.’ Jesus our Lord rose from the grave. We no longer need to fear anything. He pressed that on me so forcefully that the peace that I have is contagious.

“Jesus said to me, ‘Thomas, you believe because you have seen. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.’ I knew that he was sending me to people who would only see Him through my eyes. He assured me of what he told the other disciples. ‘As my Father sent me, I am sending you.’ Great peace flows from following His purpose for our lives. We begin to see difficulties and opposition as merely efforts by the enemy to distract us from what Jesus has sent us to do.”

This story was based upon events recorded in the 20th chapter of the Gospel of John.

Lord Jesus, in these uncertain times we need the peace of your life and purpose in us.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

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https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

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https://goo.gl/PyzU

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Amazon Author Central

The three of them were at the end of their endurance, but they ran on through the thickening trees. They hoped the woods had discouraged their pursuers. Dhanua, who was in the lead, was Malayali and roughly familiar with this part of India. But he did not know where they were now. As they came to the darkest part of the jungle, all three fell on their faces in exhaustion. Their pursuers would eventually find them if they were still on their trail. They heard later that one of their adversaries had been injured in their haste to catch them. The others had little choice, but to carry him back to their village. 

Ihita, who had been in the rear, was first to recover. He tried to revive the others. Thomas, the foreign preacher, who was called an apostle, stirred but did not fully wake. Dhanua did not respond at all. The darkness was getting thicker. It would soon be night. They would need a fire for protection. He searched the woods until he found a small clearing with a large rock. Soon Thomas had revived enough to help gather stones into a circle where they could kindle a small fire. By the time they got the first embers to crackle with flames, Ihita staggered up. They still had a small meat pie purchased at a market the day before. Thomas had some nuts and Ihita had a mashed mango at the bottom of his satchel. They boiled water from a stream and made a hot drink.

They huddled around the flames and sang a hymn that a man in the church on the coast had written. With a simple tune, it spoke of the death and resurrection of Jesus. They each lifted a short prayer of thanksgiving before they cut the pie into three pieces, dividing the rest of the food between them. They would have to find food and clean water in the morning. But what they had was satisfying tonight. As they finished the meal, Thomas asked the others what they loved best about following Jesus. 

Ihita said, “The love of God. I had never heard of such a thing until you came to us.” 

Dhanua nodded and said he enjoyed sharing the love of Jesus with other believers. “We have not seen any since we left the coastal towns, but some may yet accept Christ on this trip.” 

All three were silent for a moment, and then Dhanua said, “We love the peace we have when we travel with you, Thomas. We face hardships and losses. We often don’t know where our next meal will come from. We may soon be attacked by those who think we are their enemies. But when we have a moment to pray together, the peace of our Lord settles on us.”

Thomas said, “Jesus gave us His peace. And while our hearts don’t always understand it, we can rest in Him.”

Ihita said, “It comes from the Holy Spirit that you have taught us about.”

“That is true,” Thomas said. “The Spirit reminds us of God's grace even when things are difficult. By His Spirit, we know Jesus is with us.”

Ihita said, “We sense it best when we are actually with you, Thomas.”

“That is because I saw him after he rose from death. His life has been burned into my memory. To tell you the truth, I almost missed it. I am ashamed of my lack of faith on that first day after He rose. I was so horrified by His crucifixion that I did not want to see anyone. The other disciples gathered to comfort each other. Mary Magdalene had told them He had risen, but that was more than they could understand or believe until they saw Him themselves.

“They were hiding behind locked doors in fear of our own people who had arrested Jesus. Suddenly Jesus stood in their midst. His first words were, “Peace be with you.” He showed them His nail scarred hands and His side that had been pierced by the soldier’s spear. It was important for Him to show them that He was truly Jesus. They wept with joy that night. They sought me out the next day and told me with great enthusiasm that Jesus was alive. They had seen Him face to face. This was more than I was able to believe.

“I told them I would not believe unless I saw the nail prints in His hands. I stamped my foot. ‘Unless I put my own finger in the nail marks and thrust my hand into the gaping wound in His side I will never believe.’

“The other disciples kept me with them, even though I did not share their joy. They still loved me with the Master’s love. About a week later, we were all together when Jesus appeared as before. Again, he said, ‘Peace be with you.’ He turned to me and said, ‘Come here, Thomas. Do you see the nail prints in my hands? Come put your hand in my side. Don't be an unbeliever but believe.’ All I could say was, ‘My Lord and my God.’ Jesus our Lord rose from the grave. We no longer need to fear anything. He pressed that on me so forcefully that the peace that I have is contagious.

“Jesus said to me, ‘Thomas, you believe because you have seen. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.’ I knew that he was sending me to people who would only see Him through my eyes. He assured me of what he told the other disciples. ‘As my Father sent me, I am sending you.’ Great peace flows from following His purpose for our lives. We begin to see difficulties and opposition as merely efforts by the enemy to distract us from what Jesus has sent us to do.”

This story was based upon events recorded in the 20th chapter of the Gospel of John.

Lord Jesus, in these uncertain times we need the peace of your life and purpose in us.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

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https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

Amazon Author Central

Justinian, the servant of Pontius Pilate, rose in the middle of the night to accompany his master to the private baths belonging to the Ponti family. He was used to Pilate not being able to sleep. It began sometime before Tiberius recalled him in anger from the Province of Syria over the Samaritan fiasco. It did not surprise Justinian when Pilate’s sleep problems continued here in Rome, even though Tiberius had died before they reached the capital. The hot bath waters often calmed Pilate enough to allow him to sleep some.

Torches were still lit in the bath house when they arrived. Probably another servant had left them burning in case Pilate came in the night. The fires heating the water were never allowed to go out. Pilate handed his towel to his servant as he eased himself into the steaming pool. When he was settled, Justinian sat down beside him with his tired feet in the water.

After a time of silence, Pilate looked up at Justinian, and the servant sensed that he was about to hear an ominous confidence. “Justinian, you have been with me all these years. And you know I have not been myself for some time.” Justinian was noncommittal in spite of the familiarity of his master’s tone. Pilate continued. “I need to talk about what has been bothering me. But you must promise that you will not utter a word of what I say, even if Caligula carries out Tiberius’s intention to put me to death.”

“You know that you can confide in me, Sir. I have been with you since your youth.”

“I know that. And I suspect you may already guess much of what I have to say. But you could not yet understand the seriousness of what I need to tell someone. And as the gods are my witness, if you reveal even a hint of it, you will wish you could have died a thousand times before you let anything slip.”

“Is it the same thing that has been plaguing your wife?” Justinian ventured.

Pilate winced and nodded. “I suppose it is. But even she does not know the extent of what I have been dealing with. I suppose you have discerned that the disturbance in my mind has little to do with the trouble in my career. I cannot stop thinking about that Galilean prophet.”

“Jesus of Nazareth, The King of The Jews.” Justinian quoted the title his master had fixed to the cross of the condemned man.

Pilate continued, “I had been observing him for some time. He puzzled me from the start. He basically ignored Rome even though attacking their conquerors would have made him more popular with the common people if that were possible. I sent many spies, some of them actually Jewish, to learn what he was about. They came back with the most preposterous stories of miracles that he had done. And yet he seemed to remain a simple man of the people, at least as far as I could see. He even did several things to keep his fame from spreading. Can you imagine that? 

“Until that morning when the Priests brought him to me, I had never seen him face to face. You may not believe this, Justinian, but I was shocked at his visage. He had an amazing dignity even after being flogged and mocked. He possessed innate authority like no one I have ever met. He was certainly the first prisoner I had encountered who did not beg me to spare his life. He seemed to be at peace with everything that was happening to him. I have worked with men, soldiers, and others, all my life. I never saw anyone who struck me like that man. I don’t know how many crucifixions I have witnessed since I first received my commission, and you were a common soldier. No one ever reacted to death like this Jesus. It did not even bother him that the priests had brought him to me because they were jealous. They could not have been around him without feeling they were inferior men. I certainly felt his superiority.”

At this Justinian sputtered a silent protest. Pilate ignored him in his reverie. “Even when the soldiers mocked him by plaiting the crown of thorns, and put on him with a royal robe, he looked majestic. While he was still preaching in Galilee, I told my wife that he was the natural ruler of the Jews. He embodied the righteousness they claimed to admire. When he was brought before me, I asked if he were really the King of the Jews. He asked if that was my conclusion or if I had heard it from others. I had never had a prisoner question me, yet I felt that I had to give him an answer. I had to defend myself before a condemned prisoner! ‘Am I a Jew?’ I asked. ‘Your own people delivered you over to me. What evil thing have you done?’

“He said his kingdom was not of this world. ‘So, you are a king,’ I said. He answered, ‘You have been calling me a king. I was born and I came into the world to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to me.’ I need to tell you, that gave me pause. I thought about truth as opposed to expediency before Rome. I threw up my cynical defense, bitterly asking if anyone knew what the truth was.”

With this Pilate stirred in the bath and seemed to change the subject abruptly. “Do you believe in the gods, Justinian?”

“I am an old soldier, Sir. And I have become cynical of much that I have heard about them. But I suppose I believe in something beyond us, beyond the world.”

Pilate looked at his servant in silence for a moment. Then he looked away and said, “Through the years I seldom gave thought to the gods, or to truth for that matter. I was ambitious and practical, so I paid the expected homage. Of course, I would say, and I suppose I believed, the Roman gods were the true deities, even knowing that we stole them from the Greeks. I despised the petty gods of the provinces where I served. That was no less true in Syria. There I was disgusted with the hypocrisy of the Jews even though I eventually came to understand something of the depth of their laws.

“But when I went back out and declared to the man’s accusers that I found no guilt in him, they said something that stopped me in my tracks. One of the priests stepped forward and said, ‘According to our law, this man ought to die because he has made himself out to be the Son of God.’ Combined with everything else I had seen, this scared me. I went back into the praetorium and asked him where he had come from. And believe this or not, he refused to answer me. “I said, ‘Don’t you know that I have authority to crucify or to release you?’

“He said, ‘You would have no authority over me at all, if it were not given you from above.’ He was not referring to Tiberius. He was talking about his God! After that, I tried to release him. But there was no way I could do it. And I am haunted by the thought that I crucified the Truth. Nothing else has seemed important or even true since that terrible day.”

This story was drawn from Pilate’s encounter with Jesus in John 19:1-22.

Father, we ask you to bring us face to face with Jesus, your eternal truth.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

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Website

http://daveswatch.com/

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https://goo.gl/PyzU

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Amazon Author Central

Justinian, the servant of Pontius Pilate, rose in the middle of the night to accompany his master to the private baths belonging to the Ponti family. He was used to Pilate not being able to sleep. It began sometime before Tiberius recalled him in anger from the Province of Syria over the Samaritan fiasco. It did not surprise Justinian when Pilate’s sleep problems continued here in Rome, even though Tiberius had died before they reached the capital. The hot bath waters often calmed Pilate enough to allow him to sleep some.

Torches were still lit in the bath house when they arrived. Probably another servant had left them burning in case Pilate came in the night. The fires heating the water were never allowed to go out. Pilate handed his towel to his servant as he eased himself into the steaming pool. When he was settled, Justinian sat down beside him with his tired feet in the water.

After a time of silence, Pilate looked up at Justinian, and the servant sensed that he was about to hear an ominous confidence. “Justinian, you have been with me all these years. And you know I have not been myself for some time.” Justinian was noncommittal in spite of the familiarity of his master’s tone. Pilate continued. “I need to talk about what has been bothering me. But you must promise that you will not utter a word of what I say, even if Caligula carries out Tiberius’s intention to put me to death.”

“You know that you can confide in me, Sir. I have been with you since your youth.”

“I know that. And I suspect you may already guess much of what I have to say. But you could not yet understand the seriousness of what I need to tell someone. And as the gods are my witness, if you reveal even a hint of it, you will wish you could have died a thousand times before you let anything slip.”

“Is it the same thing that has been plaguing your wife?” Justinian ventured.

Pilate winced and nodded. “I suppose it is. But even she does not know the extent of what I have been dealing with. I suppose you have discerned that the disturbance in my mind has little to do with the trouble in my career. I cannot stop thinking about that Galilean prophet.”

“Jesus of Nazareth, The King of The Jews.” Justinian quoted the title his master had fixed to the cross of the condemned man.

Pilate continued, “I had been observing him for some time. He puzzled me from the start. He basically ignored Rome even though attacking their conquerors would have made him more popular with the common people if that were possible. I sent many spies, some of them actually Jewish, to learn what he was about. They came back with the most preposterous stories of miracles that he had done. And yet he seemed to remain a simple man of the people, at least as far as I could see. He even did several things to keep his fame from spreading. Can you imagine that? 

“Until that morning when the Priests brought him to me, I had never seen him face to face. You may not believe this, Justinian, but I was shocked at his visage. He had an amazing dignity even after being flogged and mocked. He possessed innate authority like no one I have ever met. He was certainly the first prisoner I had encountered who did not beg me to spare his life. He seemed to be at peace with everything that was happening to him. I have worked with men, soldiers, and others, all my life. I never saw anyone who struck me like that man. I don’t know how many crucifixions I have witnessed since I first received my commission, and you were a common soldier. No one ever reacted to death like this Jesus. It did not even bother him that the priests had brought him to me because they were jealous. They could not have been around him without feeling they were inferior men. I certainly felt his superiority.”

At this Justinian sputtered a silent protest. Pilate ignored him in his reverie. “Even when the soldiers mocked him by plaiting the crown of thorns, and put on him with a royal robe, he looked majestic. While he was still preaching in Galilee, I told my wife that he was the natural ruler of the Jews. He embodied the righteousness they claimed to admire. When he was brought before me, I asked if he were really the King of the Jews. He asked if that was my conclusion or if I had heard it from others. I had never had a prisoner question me, yet I felt that I had to give him an answer. I had to defend myself before a condemned prisoner! ‘Am I a Jew?’ I asked. ‘Your own people delivered you over to me. What evil thing have you done?’

“He said his kingdom was not of this world. ‘So, you are a king,’ I said. He answered, ‘You have been calling me a king. I was born and I came into the world to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to me.’ I need to tell you, that gave me pause. I thought about truth as opposed to expediency before Rome. I threw up my cynical defense, bitterly asking if anyone knew what the truth was.”

With this Pilate stirred in the bath and seemed to change the subject abruptly. “Do you believe in the gods, Justinian?”

“I am an old soldier, Sir. And I have become cynical of much that I have heard about them. But I suppose I believe in something beyond us, beyond the world.”

Pilate looked at his servant in silence for a moment. Then he looked away and said, “Through the years I seldom gave thought to the gods, or to truth for that matter. I was ambitious and practical, so I paid the expected homage. Of course, I would say, and I suppose I believed, the Roman gods were the true deities, even knowing that we stole them from the Greeks. I despised the petty gods of the provinces where I served. That was no less true in Syria. There I was disgusted with the hypocrisy of the Jews even though I eventually came to understand something of the depth of their laws.

“But when I went back out and declared to the man’s accusers that I found no guilt in him, they said something that stopped me in my tracks. One of the priests stepped forward and said, ‘According to our law, this man ought to die because he has made himself out to be the Son of God.’ Combined with everything else I had seen, this scared me. I went back into the praetorium and asked him where he had come from. And believe this or not, he refused to answer me. “I said, ‘Don’t you know that I have authority to crucify or to release you?’

“He said, ‘You would have no authority over me at all, if it were not given you from above.’ He was not referring to Tiberius. He was talking about his God! After that, I tried to release him. But there was no way I could do it. And I am haunted by the thought that I crucified the Truth. Nothing else has seemed important or even true since that terrible day.”

This story was drawn from Pilate’s encounter with Jesus in John 19:1-22.

Father, we ask you to bring us face to face with Jesus, your eternal truth.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

YouTube

https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

Amazon Author Central

“‘I AM,’ He replied, as from the burning bush.”*

Baruch looked up in displeasure as Temple guards stumbled into his inn. They had never come in this early. He hated the fact that the tough guards had run off most of his evening business. And now, here they were in the morning. No other customers were in the inn now, so he decided not to tell them the inn was closed.

“Wine,” one of them said without the usual bravado of such guards. They shuffled back into the darkest corner of the room. Baruch carried flagons to them that he had filled from the dregs of mugs and a skin left from the night before. These soldiers had been on duty all night. They were evidently too upset about something that had happened on their watch to go to sleep without wine. Mac, the oldest in the group, said not a word as they entered. He did not look up when Baruch brought the wine. Baruch thought he might be in some sort of daze, but he certainly saw the wine. He took a long draft from his flagon, but still did not look at the innkeeper.

As Baruch walked away, he heard one of them called Zach say, “How do you explain what happened?”

One of the others shushed him. “This is dangerous business. If Caiaphas hears that we are talking about it, we will be dismissed, if we survive his immediate wrath.” Baruch avoided hearing more of the conversation even as he refilled their mugs.

Zach said, “What can we do? Someone is sure to tell him what happened.”

As he finished off his second flagon of wine Mac finally spoke. “The words that we heard that prisoner say mean something. He said ‘I AM.’ I mean he didn’t say, ‘I am here,’ or I am the one you want.’ He just said, ‘I AM.’ I have heard the words spoken like that somewhere before.”

“I know where they come from,” Timaeus, the lowest ranking of the men, said. “I thought I remembered. But just to be sure, I asked Jonas, a rabbi that I went to school with. He confirmed it. When God met Moses at the burning bush in the desert, Moses asked God to tell him His name. And the Lord said, ‘I AM!’ Then He said, ‘This is my name by which I am to be known forever.’ Was this Jesus of Nazareth saying he was God?”

Zach said, “That has to be nonsense. I mean, we wouldn't have thought anything about the words, if we had not seen three temple guards, a Pharisee, and one of his servants fall flat on their backs when this Jesus said, ‘I AM!’

Timeaus said, “He didn’t say it with any force. I wasn't twenty feet away, and I barely heard him.”

“That’s not right!” Mac argued, slurring his voice as if he were already in his cups. “He didn’t hit anyone, and his voice was not loud, but he spoke with force, a force I can’t explain.”

Zach asked, “Are you saying he spoke with the force of God when he said, ‘I AM’?"

Mac looked blankly at him for a moment. Then he said, “Do you have another explanation?”

Timeaus said, “That is impossible! He couldn’t be God.”

Zach agreed even though he was still stymied. “If he were God in the form of a man, could the others have arrested him?”

Up until now, Mac had not been sure there was a real god. He said, “I don’t know, but he had to be someone. Something happened out there in the garden.”

They did not drink until they passed out as the innkeeper had feared. As several others came in for a drink and a few moments’ rest, the Temple soldiers shrunk away as if they dared not let anyone see them.

This story was conceived from the account of the arrest of Jesus in John 18:1-6

O Lord, we tremble as you reveal yourself to us.

*From Whom Do You Seek, a poem in the book, I AM, by David Young.

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“‘I AM,’ He replied, as from the burning bush.”*

Baruch looked up in displeasure as Temple guards stumbled into his inn. They had never come in this early. He hated the fact that the tough guards had run off most of his evening business. And now, here they were in the morning. No other customers were in the inn now, so he decided not to tell them the inn was closed.

“Wine,” one of them said without the usual bravado of such guards. They shuffled back into the darkest corner of the room. Baruch carried flagons to them that he had filled from the dregs of mugs and a skin left from the night before. These soldiers had been on duty all night. They were evidently too upset about something that had happened on their watch to go to sleep without wine. Mac, the oldest in the group, said not a word as they entered. He did not look up when Baruch brought the wine. Baruch thought he might be in some sort of daze, but he certainly saw the wine. He took a long draft from his flagon, but still did not look at the innkeeper.

As Baruch walked away, he heard one of them called Zach say, “How do you explain what happened?”

One of the others shushed him. “This is dangerous business. If Caiaphas hears that we are talking about it, we will be dismissed, if we survive his immediate wrath.” Baruch avoided hearing more of the conversation even as he refilled their mugs.

Zach said, “What can we do? Someone is sure to tell him what happened.”

As he finished off his second flagon of wine Mac finally spoke. “The words that we heard that prisoner say mean something. He said ‘I AM.’ I mean he didn’t say, ‘I am here,’ or I am the one you want.’ He just said, ‘I AM.’ I have heard the words spoken like that somewhere before.”

“I know where they come from,” Timaeus, the lowest ranking of the men, said. “I thought I remembered. But just to be sure, I asked Jonas, a rabbi that I went to school with. He confirmed it. When God met Moses at the burning bush in the desert, Moses asked God to tell him His name. And the Lord said, ‘I AM!’ Then He said, ‘This is my name by which I am to be known forever.’ Was this Jesus of Nazareth saying he was God?”

Zach said, “That has to be nonsense. I mean, we wouldn't have thought anything about the words, if we had not seen three temple guards, a Pharisee, and one of his servants fall flat on their backs when this Jesus said, ‘I AM!’

Timeaus said, “He didn’t say it with any force. I wasn't twenty feet away, and I barely heard him.”

“That’s not right!” Mac argued, slurring his voice as if he were already in his cups. “He didn’t hit anyone, and his voice was not loud, but he spoke with force, a force I can’t explain.”

Zach asked, “Are you saying he spoke with the force of God when he said, ‘I AM’?"

Mac looked blankly at him for a moment. Then he said, “Do you have another explanation?”

Timeaus said, “That is impossible! He couldn’t be God.”

Zach agreed even though he was still stymied. “If he were God in the form of a man, could the others have arrested him?”

Up until now, Mac had not been sure there was a real god. He said, “I don’t know, but he had to be someone. Something happened out there in the garden.”

They did not drink until they passed out as the innkeeper had feared. As several others came in for a drink and a few moments’ rest, the Temple soldiers shrunk away as if they dared not let anyone see them.

This story was conceived from the account of the arrest of Jesus in John 18:1-6

O Lord, we tremble as you reveal yourself to us.

*From Whom Do You Seek, a poem in the book, I AM, by David Young.

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His studies for the day completed, Jan Hus made his way through the town square, singing for alms to pay for his lodgings and to cover his tuition at the university. Today he ambled from place to place sometimes singing only one hymn before changing his location. In addition to hymns he sang gospel choruses in the Cezch language and even a few folk songs. His Latin hymns were the most popular. He stopped in a likely place and let his strong voice carry through the open square. 

“Donna nobis . . .” He knew this might be his final opportunity to sing in the square. He was only a few weeks from graduation and then his ordination. After singing for alms in the market, he preached for a few minutes, declaring the gospel in the language of the people. Moving on from the appreciative crowd that had gathered, he noticed a young boy following him. He stopped a little farther along. When he finished singing there, the boy put a penny in his basket. 

Before the boy moved away Hus spoke to him. “Thank you, son?” 

The boy nodded. “This is not the first time I have heard you sing, but today I had a penny.” Jan fished through the few coins in his basket and found the boy’s penny.

“I believe such a music lover should be allowed to listen for free,” he said, as he returned the coin. 

“My name is Mik,” the boy supplied, stowing the penny in his satchel. “The priest sent you to our flat when I was sick. You prayed for me by name. I had never heard anyone say my name in a prayer. Until then, I didn't know you could pray in Bohemian.”

‘Ah yes, You are Michael Flynn. I thought you looked familiar. You are some distance from your home.”

“I was sent with a message for a storekeeper just off the square. That is how I got the silver penny.”

“But I am not the first to pray for you by name,” Hus said. “Jesus prayed for you. He said, ‘I do not just pray for the disciples who have followed me, but also for those who will believe in me through their word.’ That is us, Mik. Jesus prayed for you and for me.”

“But he couldn’t have known my name.”

“Oh yes. The Bible says he calls his own sheep by name. Can you read?”

“I have been to school some. I can read Czech.”

“Come with me to my quarters. I have translated some of The Gospel of John into Czech. I want to show you something in it.” 

Mik looked around him. “I can probably come with you if we don't take too long.” Jan led the way toward the University housing. The boy followed him up narrow stairs to a long hallway. They passed several others in the cramped space. Jan threw back the curtain at the doorway to his room. He lit a small lamp and searched his desk for several pieces of parchment. Finding what he was looking for, he held a page out to the boy. Mik stared at the page and struggled with the words. 

Jan let him read some before stopping him. “Read this verse.” He put his finger on a line. 

Mik read, “I have showed thy name to those men, which thou hast given to me of the world.”*

Jan said, “Not only does our Lord know your name, he is teaching us his Father’s name.”

Mik asked. “Is his Father’s name God or maybe Jehovah?”

Jan patted him on the back. “That is pretty good. I suppose those are God’s names in a way. But I don’t think that is what Jesus is getting at. Look down to another verse.” 

Mik read again where Jan pointed. “I pray for them, I pray not for the world, but for them that thou hast given to me, for they be thine.”

“Read on further,” Jan said. 

Mik continued to read, stumbling occasionally. “And all my things be thine, and thy things be mine; and I am clarified in them. And now I am not in the world, and these be in the world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep them in thy name, which thou hast given to me, that they be one, as we be. While I was with them, I kept them in thy name; those that thou gavest to me, I kept, and none of them perished, but the son of perdition, that the scripture be fulfilled.”

“Now,” Jan said, “skip all the way down to the final verse on this page.” 

Again Mik read where Hus pointed. “And I have made thy name known to them, and shall make known; that the love by which thou hast loved me, be in them, and I in them.” Mik looked up and said, “I don’t understand any of this.”

“To tell you the truth,” Jan answered, “I don’t understand much of this either. But what I am beginning to understand is important. Jesus is introducing us to his Heavenly Father. Do you know what your name means?” 

Mik answered, “I think it was the name of an archangel or something.”

“That is right, son. And it meant, ‘Who is like God?’ But when I prayed for you by name like Jesus prayed, I did not mean any written meaning. To me your name meant you, everything about you. Well, Jesus is bringing us into intimacy with God. His name is His person. Jesus is helping us to know himself and his Father personally. In Jesus we come to know God Himself. God’s name also speaks of His nature and character. By his life and his words Jesus shows us what God is really like. Your surname is Flynn. Your father gave it to you. So Jesus gives us his Father’s name.”

Mik said, “My father gave me both of his names.” 

Jan said, “That is like what God has done. We bear His name because we have become His sons. We are part of God’s family. We share God’s legacy with our Lord Jesus. And if you are a child of God you need not fear anything, not even death. As God’s name is clarified on the Earth, everyone will see His glory. By His Spirit our lives will declare His glory to others.”

Jan then said, “Mik, I want to give you this sheet with the prayer Jesus prayed for us written in Czech. I want you to memorize it. Read each sentence over and over again asking God to speak to you as you read. When you can say the whole passage from memory, come and find me. We will talk about what God continues to show us.” The boy was overcome by the gift. He carefully rolled the parchment into a scroll, and with a string unraveled from his shirt, he tied it securely. Jan walked him back down to the square. Starting for home, Mik’s mind was filled with wonder.

This story comes from John 17. 

*I printed these verses from Wicliff’s translation of the Bible. Huss was in correspondence with Wicliff.                                And he translated portions of the New Testament into Czech from Latin like Wicliff, rather than Greek.

Lord Jesus, continue to reveal to us the Name given you by your Father. 

Help us to know You more and more.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

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His studies for the day completed, Jan Hus made his way through the town square, singing for alms to pay for his lodgings and to cover his tuition at the university. Today he ambled from place to place sometimes singing only one hymn before changing his location. In addition to hymns he sang gospel choruses in the Cezch language and even a few folk songs. His Latin hymns were the most popular. He stopped in a likely place and let his strong voice carry through the open square. 

“Donna nobis . . .” He knew this might be his final opportunity to sing in the square. He was only a few weeks from graduation and then his ordination. After singing for alms in the market, he preached for a few minutes, declaring the gospel in the language of the people. Moving on from the appreciative crowd that had gathered, he noticed a young boy following him. He stopped a little farther along. When he finished singing there, the boy put a penny in his basket. 

Before the boy moved away Hus spoke to him. “Thank you, son?” 

The boy nodded. “This is not the first time I have heard you sing, but today I had a penny.” Jan fished through the few coins in his basket and found the boy’s penny.

“I believe such a music lover should be allowed to listen for free,” he said, as he returned the coin. 

“My name is Mik,” the boy supplied, stowing the penny in his satchel. “The priest sent you to our flat when I was sick. You prayed for me by name. I had never heard anyone say my name in a prayer. Until then, I didn't know you could pray in Bohemian.”

‘Ah yes, You are Michael Flynn. I thought you looked familiar. You are some distance from your home.”

“I was sent with a message for a storekeeper just off the square. That is how I got the silver penny.”

“But I am not the first to pray for you by name,” Hus said. “Jesus prayed for you. He said, ‘I do not just pray for the disciples who have followed me, but also for those who will believe in me through their word.’ That is us, Mik. Jesus prayed for you and for me.”

“But he couldn’t have known my name.”

“Oh yes. The Bible says he calls his own sheep by name. Can you read?”

“I have been to school some. I can read Czech.”

“Come with me to my quarters. I have translated some of The Gospel of John into Czech. I want to show you something in it.” 

Mik looked around him. “I can probably come with you if we don't take too long.” Jan led the way toward the University housing. The boy followed him up narrow stairs to a long hallway. They passed several others in the cramped space. Jan threw back the curtain at the doorway to his room. He lit a small lamp and searched his desk for several pieces of parchment. Finding what he was looking for, he held a page out to the boy. Mik stared at the page and struggled with the words. 

Jan let him read some before stopping him. “Read this verse.” He put his finger on a line. 

Mik read, “I have showed thy name to those men, which thou hast given to me of the world.”*

Jan said, “Not only does our Lord know your name, he is teaching us his Father’s name.”

Mik asked. “Is his Father’s name God or maybe Jehovah?”

Jan patted him on the back. “That is pretty good. I suppose those are God’s names in a way. But I don’t think that is what Jesus is getting at. Look down to another verse.” 

Mik read again where Jan pointed. “I pray for them, I pray not for the world, but for them that thou hast given to me, for they be thine.”

“Read on further,” Jan said. 

Mik continued to read, stumbling occasionally. “And all my things be thine, and thy things be mine; and I am clarified in them. And now I am not in the world, and these be in the world, and I come to thee. Holy Father, keep them in thy name, which thou hast given to me, that they be one, as we be. While I was with them, I kept them in thy name; those that thou gavest to me, I kept, and none of them perished, but the son of perdition, that the scripture be fulfilled.”

“Now,” Jan said, “skip all the way down to the final verse on this page.” 

Again Mik read where Hus pointed. “And I have made thy name known to them, and shall make known; that the love by which thou hast loved me, be in them, and I in them.” Mik looked up and said, “I don’t understand any of this.”

“To tell you the truth,” Jan answered, “I don’t understand much of this either. But what I am beginning to understand is important. Jesus is introducing us to his Heavenly Father. Do you know what your name means?” 

Mik answered, “I think it was the name of an archangel or something.”

“That is right, son. And it meant, ‘Who is like God?’ But when I prayed for you by name like Jesus prayed, I did not mean any written meaning. To me your name meant you, everything about you. Well, Jesus is bringing us into intimacy with God. His name is His person. Jesus is helping us to know himself and his Father personally. In Jesus we come to know God Himself. God’s name also speaks of His nature and character. By his life and his words Jesus shows us what God is really like. Your surname is Flynn. Your father gave it to you. So Jesus gives us his Father’s name.”

Mik said, “My father gave me both of his names.” 

Jan said, “That is like what God has done. We bear His name because we have become His sons. We are part of God’s family. We share God’s legacy with our Lord Jesus. And if you are a child of God you need not fear anything, not even death. As God’s name is clarified on the Earth, everyone will see His glory. By His Spirit our lives will declare His glory to others.”

Jan then said, “Mik, I want to give you this sheet with the prayer Jesus prayed for us written in Czech. I want you to memorize it. Read each sentence over and over again asking God to speak to you as you read. When you can say the whole passage from memory, come and find me. We will talk about what God continues to show us.” The boy was overcome by the gift. He carefully rolled the parchment into a scroll, and with a string unraveled from his shirt, he tied it securely. Jan walked him back down to the square. Starting for home, Mik’s mind was filled with wonder.

This story comes from John 17. 

*I printed these verses from Wicliff’s translation of the Bible. Huss was in correspondence with Wicliff.                                And he translated portions of the New Testament into Czech from Latin like Wicliff, rather than Greek.

Lord Jesus, continue to reveal to us the Name given you by your Father. 

Help us to know You more and more.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

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Things were going well in the Macedonian city of Philippi. We had been frustrated as we traveled across Asia, not because the people opposed us but because the Spirit of Jesus would not let us enter any of the towns we came to. We passed through the regions of Phrygia and Galatia without being allowed to speak the word. Not knowing what else to do, we went all the way to Troas at the sea without telling anyone about Jesus. It had not occurred to us to cross the Sea of Aegeus to the strange cultures of the west. That night a man from Macedonia appeared to Paul in a vision saying, “Come over here and help us. We concluded that God was sending us there. So, we sailed as soon as we could find passage. 

Philippi was the first town we came to. We usually began our ministry in Jewish synagogues, but there was no synagogue in this city. We went instead to a river on the Sabbath hoping to find a place of prayer. Sure enough, we found a group of ladies who were pleased to listen to what we had to say. Among those who believed our message about Jesus was a woman named Lydia, a seller of purple cloth, who came from Thyatira. Although she was not Jewish, she worshipped God and knew something of the law and the prophets. The Lord opened her heart to what we had to say.

After she and others including a number from Lydia’s household were baptized, she approached us and said, “If you have judged me to be a true believer, come stay in my home.” Her staff were pleased that we were quite as interested in telling servants about Jesus as we were anyone else. Lydia’s house became our base of operations. 

One day as we were going to the place of prayer on the river, a slave girl who had a spirit of divination, began to follow us. She brought considerable profit to her owners by fortune-telling. We were gathering a crowd, so her masters were willing for her to follow us. But she became more and more disruptive. For many days she followed us around shouting at the top of her lungs, “These men are servants of the Most High God who are proclaiming to you the way of salvation.” We prayed for her each night when we gathered with those who had come to believe. The crowds often laughed when she would cry out as we were speaking. Finally, Paul had had enough. 

He turned and said to the spirit, “I command you to come out of her in the name of Jesus Christ.” The spirit came out, and the girl fell unconscious to the ground. We gathered round her in prayer. As she began to wake, we helped her to her feet. Her owners were used to her causing a commotion with such drama, but they soon realized that this was different. They pushed us aside and shook the girl hard, demanding that she prophesy. Nothing they did was to any avail. When they were convinced that they had lost all hope of profit from her they turned on Paul and me. They dragged us to the magistrates in the town center. They were making wild accusations against us and stirred up a crowd before the city officials. The crowd decided the magistrates were too slow to act, although they had hardly heard the accusations of the men. The mob had torn our clothes off before officers got to us. The officers lashed us to a post and beat us mercilessly. Then they threw us into the dungeon. They warned the jailor to guard us carefully, so he fastened our feet in stocks. 

I don’t think either Paul or I were completely unconscious, but it was some time before we were able to speak. I had just begun to stretch some of my aching muscles when I glanced to my side. In the dim light I saw Paul about 10 feet away grinning at me with smeared blood on his face. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Silas?” He asked. 

I tried to laugh. “Could you scratch my back?” There was nothing either of us could do to ease the other’s discomfort or even staunch the bleeding. 

Paul said, “Well, what do we know now that we are here?”

I said, “I’m not sure I know anything right now.” We began to talk about things we knew for certain in Christ.

“Do you know that we belong to Christ?”

I said, “We do.”

“Do you know that God brought us here?” Paul asked. 

By then I had gained a little perspective. “I know God brought us to this city.”

“Were we faithful to the word of our Lord?”

“Yes, Paul. We told the good news of our Lord Jesus to everyone we saw.”

Paul was quiet for a moment and then he said, “One of the first Apostles told me that just before Jesus was crucified, he said, ‘If you love me you will keep my word. I will love you, and my Father will also love you. We will come and make our dwelling with you.’ We know that God loves us, and we are not alone. Our lord Jesus and his Father are with us.”

I said, “But you have to admit that this has been difficult.”

“Yes,” Paul said. “This is hard. But remember, our Lord was crucified for us. That was much worse. He said, ‘In this world you will have affliction. But take heart I have overcome the world.’” 

Before long we noticed that the other prisoners were listening to us. These people had little hope in this world. We were speaking of hope from beyond the world. We talked back and forth for some time. Some of the prisoners asked us a question or two, but for the most part they just listened. We prayed for each one of them by name. We prayed for our jailer and for the magistrates and the slave owners who had beaten us and thrown us in prison. And we sang. The prisoners listened spellbound as we sang Psalms and songs about Jesus into the night. 

About midnight we had stopped praying and singing for just a moment. It was absolutely quiet in the prison. Suddenly the earth began to shake. The floor heaved beneath us. The gate opened with a crash, and our stocks were splintered into pieces. Of course, the jailor was awakened. He rushed into the prison terrified that we had all escaped. His own life depended on keeping his prisoners. Paul saw a glint of the man’s sword and knew that he was about to take his own life rather than die at the hands of the magistrates. 

“Do not harm yourself, we are all here!” Paul shouted. 

The guard called for a light. And when he saw all the prisoners he fell down before us asking, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” He sensed the power in the dungeon and knew that he needed whatever it was that had changed the lives of the other prisoners. We told him to believe on the Lord Jesus and he would be saved. 

Having received solemn promises from the other prisoners who were already trying to repair the door to the dungeon, he brought Paul and me into his home and dressed our wounds. His whole household, awakened by the earthquake, listened as we told them about Jesus who had died for their sins. And we began to explain all that following Jesus would mean. They fed and clothed us, and all of them were baptized that very night.

This story was drawn from the words of Jesus in John 16:33 and 14:23.

Father, we give thanks for your peace in the circumstances we will face.

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Things were going well in the Macedonian city of Philippi. We had been frustrated as we traveled across Asia, not because the people opposed us but because the Spirit of Jesus would not let us enter any of the towns we came to. We passed through the regions of Phrygia and Galatia without being allowed to speak the word. Not knowing what else to do, we went all the way to Troas at the sea without telling anyone about Jesus. It had not occurred to us to cross the Sea of Aegeus to the strange cultures of the west. That night a man from Macedonia appeared to Paul in a vision saying, “Come over here and help us. We concluded that God was sending us there. So, we sailed as soon as we could find passage. 

Philippi was the first town we came to. We usually began our ministry in Jewish synagogues, but there was no synagogue in this city. We went instead to a river on the Sabbath hoping to find a place of prayer. Sure enough, we found a group of ladies who were pleased to listen to what we had to say. Among those who believed our message about Jesus was a woman named Lydia, a seller of purple cloth, who came from Thyatira. Although she was not Jewish, she worshipped God and knew something of the law and the prophets. The Lord opened her heart to what we had to say.

After she and others including a number from Lydia’s household were baptized, she approached us and said, “If you have judged me to be a true believer, come stay in my home.” Her staff were pleased that we were quite as interested in telling servants about Jesus as we were anyone else. Lydia’s house became our base of operations. 

One day as we were going to the place of prayer on the river, a slave girl who had a spirit of divination, began to follow us. She brought considerable profit to her owners by fortune-telling. We were gathering a crowd, so her masters were willing for her to follow us. But she became more and more disruptive. For many days she followed us around shouting at the top of her lungs, “These men are servants of the Most High God who are proclaiming to you the way of salvation.” We prayed for her each night when we gathered with those who had come to believe. The crowds often laughed when she would cry out as we were speaking. Finally, Paul had had enough. 

He turned and said to the spirit, “I command you to come out of her in the name of Jesus Christ.” The spirit came out, and the girl fell unconscious to the ground. We gathered round her in prayer. As she began to wake, we helped her to her feet. Her owners were used to her causing a commotion with such drama, but they soon realized that this was different. They pushed us aside and shook the girl hard, demanding that she prophesy. Nothing they did was to any avail. When they were convinced that they had lost all hope of profit from her they turned on Paul and me. They dragged us to the magistrates in the town center. They were making wild accusations against us and stirred up a crowd before the city officials. The crowd decided the magistrates were too slow to act, although they had hardly heard the accusations of the men. The mob had torn our clothes off before officers got to us. The officers lashed us to a post and beat us mercilessly. Then they threw us into the dungeon. They warned the jailor to guard us carefully, so he fastened our feet in stocks. 

I don’t think either Paul or I were completely unconscious, but it was some time before we were able to speak. I had just begun to stretch some of my aching muscles when I glanced to my side. In the dim light I saw Paul about 10 feet away grinning at me with smeared blood on his face. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Silas?” He asked. 

I tried to laugh. “Could you scratch my back?” There was nothing either of us could do to ease the other’s discomfort or even staunch the bleeding. 

Paul said, “Well, what do we know now that we are here?”

I said, “I’m not sure I know anything right now.” We began to talk about things we knew for certain in Christ.

“Do you know that we belong to Christ?”

I said, “We do.”

“Do you know that God brought us here?” Paul asked. 

By then I had gained a little perspective. “I know God brought us to this city.”

“Were we faithful to the word of our Lord?”

“Yes, Paul. We told the good news of our Lord Jesus to everyone we saw.”

Paul was quiet for a moment and then he said, “One of the first Apostles told me that just before Jesus was crucified, he said, ‘If you love me you will keep my word. I will love you, and my Father will also love you. We will come and make our dwelling with you.’ We know that God loves us, and we are not alone. Our lord Jesus and his Father are with us.”

I said, “But you have to admit that this has been difficult.”

“Yes,” Paul said. “This is hard. But remember, our Lord was crucified for us. That was much worse. He said, ‘In this world you will have affliction. But take heart I have overcome the world.’” 

Before long we noticed that the other prisoners were listening to us. These people had little hope in this world. We were speaking of hope from beyond the world. We talked back and forth for some time. Some of the prisoners asked us a question or two, but for the most part they just listened. We prayed for each one of them by name. We prayed for our jailer and for the magistrates and the slave owners who had beaten us and thrown us in prison. And we sang. The prisoners listened spellbound as we sang Psalms and songs about Jesus into the night. 

About midnight we had stopped praying and singing for just a moment. It was absolutely quiet in the prison. Suddenly the earth began to shake. The floor heaved beneath us. The gate opened with a crash, and our stocks were splintered into pieces. Of course, the jailor was awakened. He rushed into the prison terrified that we had all escaped. His own life depended on keeping his prisoners. Paul saw a glint of the man’s sword and knew that he was about to take his own life rather than die at the hands of the magistrates. 

“Do not harm yourself, we are all here!” Paul shouted. 

The guard called for a light. And when he saw all the prisoners he fell down before us asking, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” He sensed the power in the dungeon and knew that he needed whatever it was that had changed the lives of the other prisoners. We told him to believe on the Lord Jesus and he would be saved. 

Having received solemn promises from the other prisoners who were already trying to repair the door to the dungeon, he brought Paul and me into his home and dressed our wounds. His whole household, awakened by the earthquake, listened as we told them about Jesus who had died for their sins. And we began to explain all that following Jesus would mean. They fed and clothed us, and all of them were baptized that very night.

This story was drawn from the words of Jesus in John 16:33 and 14:23.

Father, we give thanks for your peace in the circumstances we will face.

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http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

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Charles Wyvern returned home early from a successful foray into the Carolinas. He had sold and contracted to ship goods in a hundred settlements along the coast. He had even managed to invest with several others in what would surely become a prosperous plantation. He was pleased with himself. In all his dealings he had managed to maintain the reputation of an honest tradesman, only departing from fair practice when he deemed it absolutely necessary. 

His servant took the carriage and cared for his team while he went into his home to relax. The word “home” may have been an exaggeration. The house was certainly spacious. It was well shaded. Open windows let in the breeze. Over time he had brought in comfortable furniture including a feather bed. A good well had been dug near the kitchen behind the house. But he had been too busy with business and travels to bother with taking a wife. Days before he had sent word to his servant to prepare for his return. But he was not tired and wanted some company. When Anthony, his servant, entered the house and poured him a drink, he asked him to saddle his little chestnut gelding. Taking the pony he rode through the busy streets smiling and saluting acquaintances. But when he came to the public house there were only two horses hitched to the railing. He stepped through the open doors and greeted the innkeeper. 

“Where is everyone today?” he asked, as he ordered an ale.

“Everyone is goin’ to hear Whifield,” he said. “I may close early and go along myself.” For some reason, this bothered Wyvern. He had to put up with all kinds of disruptions to his plans on the road. He did not expect them here in his own town. He of course knew of the popular preacher. The last he had heard, Whitfield was preaching to huge crowds in Philadelphia. This was hardly his first trip south. Even in the north he raised funds to build an orphanage here in Georgia. Charles asked another customer if Whitfield was preaching in one of the churches in town. The man didn’t know.

The innkeeper overheard and said, “No, Sir. They been postin’ handbills saying he’d be preachin’ from a big barn out on the west road. You may know the place. The barn is on the edge a wide grassy field.” Charles did know the place. It belonged to a man who refused to own slaves. Most of those were small landholders, but this man owned quite a bit of property. Charles finished off his tankard, went back to his horse and started home.

Whitfield was popular everywhere he went. Charles knew for a fact that the churches in London had closed their pulpits to him. He had then built his huge chapel on Tottenham Court Road and filled it day and night for weeks on end when he was in London. He was just as popular here in the colonies. Charles stopped by his house to tell Anthony to prepare a basket of food. He would go and hear this fellow himself. Anthony had not begun preparing anything, assuming his master would eat at the pub. Hearing that he was going to hear Whitfield, he asked if he could come along. 

“I have enough food and drink for us in the larder. And it wouldn’t take me long to harness your brougham.” Charles thought this might be good for his servant, so he agreed. As soon as everything was packed they started out. It took them over an hour to reach the farm where Whitfield was to preach. They heard the crowd singing hymns from some distance. The barn was actually on a smaller lane away from the West road. But there were already hundreds of horses and carriages along the main road. Still, from the size of the crowd he thought most of the people had to have come on foot. Some may well have come from quite a distance. Although it was still the middle of the afternoon, unlit lanterns surrounded the platform where Whitfield would preach. Charles had not thought about the meeting lasting into the night. 

He went straight to the shade of a large tree where a number of men were standing. Someone was smoking a cigar, though he could not see who it was. When Anthony had staked out their horse in a field across the road he came along to the same tree to be near his master if he were needed. 

When Whitfield began to speak even those who had heard him before were stunned by the force and melody of his voice. They had no difficulty hearing even this far from the barn where Whitfield stood in the open loft. His words echoed off the trees and canyons in every direction. He did not spend any time on pleasantries. 

“I have not come to you of my own volition. God has sent me here before it is everlastingly too late. I have not come to talk about politics or the weather. I have come at the call of God Almighty to talk to you about your soul.” From the very first word Charles was spellbound. As the preacher spoke of the holiness of Jesus, Charles began to realize that he was in a desperate condition. He had always thought he was a rather good man. He certainly knew men who were worse, at least in his opinion. But as Whitfield preached, Charles began to see himself in the light of the life of Jesus. He put his hand to his face and discovered that he was weeping. Whitfield had begun to tell a parable of a blind man stumbling along the edge of a cliff. Everyone in the crowd was there with him as he described the man’s predicament. As the man took his final step off the ledge, Charles Wyvern fell to his knees. He realized that he and all he knew of society was on that terrible precipice, soon to be plunged into eternal judgment. Unaware of others reacting in similar ways all around him, he cried out to Jesus who had died for his sins. The Son of God was his only hope.

It was dark and lanterns were lit across the field when Anthony, who had evidently been similarly affected, put his hand on Charles’s back. “Sir, let me help you up. Most of the people have left. I have harnessed the mare. If something like this had happened to anyone else, Charles would have said they were mad. He was not sure it was not true of him as well. All the way home he prayed and calculated the many things that with God's help must change in his life. From now on everything would be different because of what God had begun in him.

This story was conceived from John 16:7-11.

Father, break our hearts by the power of Your Holy Spirit.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

YouTube

https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

Amazon Author Central

Charles Wyvern returned home early from a successful foray into the Carolinas. He had sold and contracted to ship goods in a hundred settlements along the coast. He had even managed to invest with several others in what would surely become a prosperous plantation. He was pleased with himself. In all his dealings he had managed to maintain the reputation of an honest tradesman, only departing from fair practice when he deemed it absolutely necessary. 

His servant took the carriage and cared for his team while he went into his home to relax. The word “home” may have been an exaggeration. The house was certainly spacious. It was well shaded. Open windows let in the breeze. Over time he had brought in comfortable furniture including a feather bed. A good well had been dug near the kitchen behind the house. But he had been too busy with business and travels to bother with taking a wife. Days before he had sent word to his servant to prepare for his return. But he was not tired and wanted some company. When Anthony, his servant, entered the house and poured him a drink, he asked him to saddle his little chestnut gelding. Taking the pony he rode through the busy streets smiling and saluting acquaintances. But when he came to the public house there were only two horses hitched to the railing. He stepped through the open doors and greeted the innkeeper. 

“Where is everyone today?” he asked, as he ordered an ale.

“Everyone is goin’ to hear Whifield,” he said. “I may close early and go along myself.” For some reason, this bothered Wyvern. He had to put up with all kinds of disruptions to his plans on the road. He did not expect them here in his own town. He of course knew of the popular preacher. The last he had heard, Whitfield was preaching to huge crowds in Philadelphia. This was hardly his first trip south. Even in the north he raised funds to build an orphanage here in Georgia. Charles asked another customer if Whitfield was preaching in one of the churches in town. The man didn’t know.

The innkeeper overheard and said, “No, Sir. They been postin’ handbills saying he’d be preachin’ from a big barn out on the west road. You may know the place. The barn is on the edge a wide grassy field.” Charles did know the place. It belonged to a man who refused to own slaves. Most of those were small landholders, but this man owned quite a bit of property. Charles finished off his tankard, went back to his horse and started home.

Whitfield was popular everywhere he went. Charles knew for a fact that the churches in London had closed their pulpits to him. He had then built his huge chapel on Tottenham Court Road and filled it day and night for weeks on end when he was in London. He was just as popular here in the colonies. Charles stopped by his house to tell Anthony to prepare a basket of food. He would go and hear this fellow himself. Anthony had not begun preparing anything, assuming his master would eat at the pub. Hearing that he was going to hear Whitfield, he asked if he could come along. 

“I have enough food and drink for us in the larder. And it wouldn’t take me long to harness your brougham.” Charles thought this might be good for his servant, so he agreed. As soon as everything was packed they started out. It took them over an hour to reach the farm where Whitfield was to preach. They heard the crowd singing hymns from some distance. The barn was actually on a smaller lane away from the West road. But there were already hundreds of horses and carriages along the main road. Still, from the size of the crowd he thought most of the people had to have come on foot. Some may well have come from quite a distance. Although it was still the middle of the afternoon, unlit lanterns surrounded the platform where Whitfield would preach. Charles had not thought about the meeting lasting into the night. 

He went straight to the shade of a large tree where a number of men were standing. Someone was smoking a cigar, though he could not see who it was. When Anthony had staked out their horse in a field across the road he came along to the same tree to be near his master if he were needed. 

When Whitfield began to speak even those who had heard him before were stunned by the force and melody of his voice. They had no difficulty hearing even this far from the barn where Whitfield stood in the open loft. His words echoed off the trees and canyons in every direction. He did not spend any time on pleasantries. 

“I have not come to you of my own volition. God has sent me here before it is everlastingly too late. I have not come to talk about politics or the weather. I have come at the call of God Almighty to talk to you about your soul.” From the very first word Charles was spellbound. As the preacher spoke of the holiness of Jesus, Charles began to realize that he was in a desperate condition. He had always thought he was a rather good man. He certainly knew men who were worse, at least in his opinion. But as Whitfield preached, Charles began to see himself in the light of the life of Jesus. He put his hand to his face and discovered that he was weeping. Whitfield had begun to tell a parable of a blind man stumbling along the edge of a cliff. Everyone in the crowd was there with him as he described the man’s predicament. As the man took his final step off the ledge, Charles Wyvern fell to his knees. He realized that he and all he knew of society was on that terrible precipice, soon to be plunged into eternal judgment. Unaware of others reacting in similar ways all around him, he cried out to Jesus who had died for his sins. The Son of God was his only hope.

It was dark and lanterns were lit across the field when Anthony, who had evidently been similarly affected, put his hand on Charles’s back. “Sir, let me help you up. Most of the people have left. I have harnessed the mare. If something like this had happened to anyone else, Charles would have said they were mad. He was not sure it was not true of him as well. All the way home he prayed and calculated the many things that with God's help must change in his life. From now on everything would be different because of what God had begun in him.

This story was conceived from John 16:7-11.

Father, break our hearts by the power of Your Holy Spirit.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

YouTube

https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

Amazon Author Central

Charles Wyvern returned home early from a successful foray into the Carolinas. He had sold and contracted to ship goods in a hundred settlements along the coast. He had even managed to invest with several others in what would surely become a prosperous plantation. He was pleased with himself. In all his dealings he had managed to maintain the reputation of an honest tradesman, only departing from fair practice when he deemed it absolutely necessary. 

His servant took the carriage and cared for his team while he went into his home to relax. The word “home” may have been an exaggeration. The house was certainly spacious. It was well shaded. Open windows let in the breeze. Over time he had brought in comfortable furniture including a feather bed. A good well had been dug near the kitchen behind the house. But he had been too busy with business and travels to bother with taking a wife. Days before he had sent word to his servant to prepare for his return. But he was not tired and wanted some company. When Anthony, his servant, entered the house and poured him a drink, he asked him to saddle his little chestnut gelding. Taking the pony he rode through the busy streets smiling and saluting acquaintances. But when he came to the public house there were only two horses hitched to the railing. He stepped through the open doors and greeted the innkeeper. 

“Where is everyone today?” he asked, as he ordered an ale.

“Everyone is goin’ to hear Whifield,” he said. “I may close early and go along myself.” For some reason, this bothered Wyvern. He had to put up with all kinds of disruptions to his plans on the road. He did not expect them here in his own town. He of course knew of the popular preacher. The last he had heard, Whitfield was preaching to huge crowds in Philadelphia. This was hardly his first trip south. Even in the north he raised funds to build an orphanage here in Georgia. Charles asked another customer if Whitfield was preaching in one of the churches in town. The man didn’t know.

The innkeeper overheard and said, “No, Sir. They been postin’ handbills saying he’d be preachin’ from a big barn out on the west road. You may know the place. The barn is on the edge a wide grassy field.” Charles did know the place. It belonged to a man who refused to own slaves. Most of those were small landholders, but this man owned quite a bit of property. Charles finished off his tankard, went back to his horse and started home.

Whitfield was popular everywhere he went. Charles knew for a fact that the churches in London had closed their pulpits to him. He had then built his huge chapel on Tottenham Court Road and filled it day and night for weeks on end when he was in London. He was just as popular here in the colonies. Charles stopped by his house to tell Anthony to prepare a basket of food. He would go and hear this fellow himself. Anthony had not begun preparing anything, assuming his master would eat at the pub. Hearing that he was going to hear Whitfield, he asked if he could come along. 

“I have enough food and drink for us in the larder. And it wouldn’t take me long to harness your brougham.” Charles thought this might be good for his servant, so he agreed. As soon as everything was packed they started out. It took them over an hour to reach the farm where Whitfield was to preach. They heard the crowd singing hymns from some distance. The barn was actually on a smaller lane away from the West road. But there were already hundreds of horses and carriages along the main road. Still, from the size of the crowd he thought most of the people had to have come on foot. Some may well have come from quite a distance. Although it was still the middle of the afternoon, unlit lanterns surrounded the platform where Whitfield would preach. Charles had not thought about the meeting lasting into the night. 

He went straight to the shade of a large tree where a number of men were standing. Someone was smoking a cigar, though he could not see who it was. When Anthony had staked out their horse in a field across the road he came along to the same tree to be near his master if he were needed. 

When Whitfield began to speak even those who had heard him before were stunned by the force and melody of his voice. They had no difficulty hearing even this far from the barn where Whitfield stood in the open loft. His words echoed off the trees and canyons in every direction. He did not spend any time on pleasantries. 

“I have not come to you of my own volition. God has sent me here before it is everlastingly too late. I have not come to talk about politics or the weather. I have come at the call of God Almighty to talk to you about your soul.” From the very first word Charles was spellbound. As the preacher spoke of the holiness of Jesus, Charles began to realize that he was in a desperate condition. He had always thought he was a rather good man. He certainly knew men who were worse, at least in his opinion. But as Whitfield preached, Charles began to see himself in the light of the life of Jesus. He put his hand to his face and discovered that he was weeping. Whitfield had begun to tell a parable of a blind man stumbling along the edge of a cliff. Everyone in the crowd was there with him as he described the man’s predicament. As the man took his final step off the ledge, Charles Wyvern fell to his knees. He realized that he and all he knew of society was on that terrible precipice, soon to be plunged into eternal judgment. Unaware of others reacting in similar ways all around him, he cried out to Jesus who had died for his sins. The Son of God was his only hope.

It was dark and lanterns were lit across the field when Anthony, who had evidently been similarly affected, put his hand on Charles’s back. “Sir, let me help you up. Most of the people have left. I have harnessed the mare. If something like this had happened to anyone else, Charles would have said they were mad. He was not sure it was not true of him as well. All the way home he prayed and calculated the many things that with God's help must change in his life. From now on everything would be different because of what God had begun in him.

This story was conceived from John 16:7-11.

Father, break our hearts by the power of Your Holy Spirit.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

YouTube

https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

Amazon Author Central

In John 17:19 Jesus said, 

“And for their sake I consecrate myself, 

that they also may be sanctified in truth.”

Don’t these words sound strange? Jesus said He was sanctifying Himself for our sake. I would have thought His sanctification was completed before the foundation of the world. And while that may be true from the point of view of God who sees all things from beginning to end, sanctification seems to be an ongoing process in our lives. It is like being faithful or truthful. 

But surely the motivation for our Lord's sanctification was to glorify the Father. That is also true. But Jesus sanctified Himself for our sake as well. 

This says something about our prayers and ministries. The most important thing we can do to touch the lives of other people is to sanctify ourselves in the presence of God who is eternally holy.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

YouTube

https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

https://www.amazon.com/David-Young/e/B008C7VLAQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

In John 17:19 Jesus said, 

“And for their sake I consecrate myself, 

that they also may be sanctified in truth.”

Don’t these words sound strange? Jesus said He was sanctifying Himself for our sake. I would have thought His sanctification was completed before the foundation of the world. And while that may be true from the point of view of God who sees all things from beginning to end, sanctification seems to be an ongoing process in our lives. It is like being faithful or truthful. 

But surely the motivation for our Lord's sanctification was to glorify the Father. That is also true. But Jesus sanctified Himself for our sake as well. 

This says something about our prayers and ministries. The most important thing we can do to touch the lives of other people is to sanctify ourselves in the presence of God who is eternally holy.

http://thinkinginthespirit.blogspot.com/

http://theanchorofthesoul.blogspot.com/

http://watchinginprayer.blogspot.com/

http://writingprayerfully.blogspot.com/

FaceBook

https://www.facebook.com/bdavidyoung49

Website

http://daveswatch.com/

YouTube

https://goo.gl/PyzU

Amazon Author's Page

https://www.amazon.com/David-Young/e/B008C7VLAQ/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1