What is the church according to the one, the only, holy gatekeeper?
“This is what the holy one, the true one,
the one who has the key of David, the one who opens and no one can shut,
and who shuts and no one can open, says: ‘I know your works (behold, I have put before you an opened door that no one is able to shut) that you have a little strength, and have kept my word, and did not deny my name. Behold, I am causing those of the synagogue of Satan, the ones who call themselves Jews and are not, but are lying—behold, I will make them come and kneel down before your feet and acknowledge that I have loved you. Because
you have kept the word of my patient endurance, I also will keep you
from the hour of testing that is about to come upon the whole inhabited
world, to put to the test those who live on the earth. I am coming quickly! Hold fast to what you have, so that no one may take away your crown. The
one who conquers, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God, and
he will never go outside again, and I will write on him the name of my
God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem that comes
down from heaven from my God, and my new name. The one who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’
"On that day I will call to my servant, Eliakim son of Hilkiah,
and I will clothe him with your tunic,
and I will bind your sash firmly about him,
and I will put your authority into his hand,
and he shall be like a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem
and to the house of Judah.
And I will put the key of the house of David on his shoulder,
and he shall open and no one will be able to shut;
and he shall shut and no one will be able to open.
And I will drive him in like a peg into a secure place,
and he will become like a throne of glory to the house of his father.
And they will hang all of the heaviness of his father’s house on him,
the offspring and the offshoot,
all of the small vessels,
from the bowls to the jars." Isaiah 22
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and it will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened....Enter through the narrow gate, because broad is the gate and spacious is the road that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it, because narrow is the gate and constricted is the road that leads to life, and there are few who find it!" Matt 7
"Then Jesus said to them again, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. All those who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep do not listen to them. I am the door. If anyone enters through me, he will be saved, and will come in and will go out and will find pasture." John 10
Showing posts with label salvation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label salvation. Show all posts
Thursday, April 13, 2017
Friday, October 21, 2016
No Rhoads Warrior
i have been encouraged to write again. And i almost wish i wasn't. It makes life nigh on unbearable for me.
Not because i don't want to write, quite the opposite actually. i do. i want to with all of my innerds and a few of my outterds too. i love writing and to make matters worse, i'm being urged to write a devotional which is a bit like inviting heroin into your life. It feels good but several months from now i suspect my life will bear a strange resemblance to much of Syria.
i don't say that flippantly. i've tried it before. Devotion writing, not heroin. i was, as you can read in the archives of this very blog and my Rabbit Trails one as well, full on into the expedition, with gunboys, porters, elephants and two particularly stout and careful fellows bearing my Ming dynasty bone china tea set. One need not be uncivilised about such things. But like the Brits with their empire, after the war, i had to give it up. And for much the same reasons.
i had become an insufferable twat.
Here's the thing and it's taken me some time to recognize this about myself. Or i recognized it long ago but oddly, my ego wouldn't allow me to speak the words. i suspect i'm great. i do not say i am fully convinced of this for i spend much of my time lamenting not being great. Much of my depression seems to me now to come from not living up to my suspected potential, a word and phrase i heard growing up about as often as, "Wash your hands before dinner." or "Be nice to your brother, you know he looks up to you." or "Quit picking your nose!" "He doesn't work up to his potential," they'd say. "He has so much potential, this is disappointing." "If you would only try, you have so much potential!" Apparently, other people thought i was more than i was trying to be.
Which brought on two counter cravings. The desire to be praised and recognized for the things i did, to be as great as they said i was and the equally emphatic desire to be ignored, to be left alone to do what i felt like doing rather than trying to "live up to my potential." It was like i had to compete not with someone else, but with an imaginary better version of me. A version, i was fairly certain, i did not recognize. Though i fantasized about him a lot. Eventually i decided i couldn't be him so why try. i set my sights at achievable goals, OSHA approved industry minimums and bowed out. Slowly, sadly the disappointed shook their heads and went away.
And you would think that would be the end of it. Or you might not. You're probably savvy enough to know that the worst voice of judment this side of the Great White Throne is in our own heads. There's no where to hide from that voice. No where to run. And so as not to go into a narcissistic navel novel; yada yada, he grew up, struggles with angst common to man, listened to the voices, tried to live up to the potential once, failed, wrecked his marriage, his finances, his family and became a shell of a man, a burnt-out desolate man, a man who wandered out into the wasteland.
And now here they come again. Worming their way into the black matter of my brain. Should i take the bait my soul craves so mightily? Have i become wise enough to handle the power or will the shame this time be mine? Is the Cross enough? Will i here, in this blighted place, learn to live again?
Not because i don't want to write, quite the opposite actually. i do. i want to with all of my innerds and a few of my outterds too. i love writing and to make matters worse, i'm being urged to write a devotional which is a bit like inviting heroin into your life. It feels good but several months from now i suspect my life will bear a strange resemblance to much of Syria.
i don't say that flippantly. i've tried it before. Devotion writing, not heroin. i was, as you can read in the archives of this very blog and my Rabbit Trails one as well, full on into the expedition, with gunboys, porters, elephants and two particularly stout and careful fellows bearing my Ming dynasty bone china tea set. One need not be uncivilised about such things. But like the Brits with their empire, after the war, i had to give it up. And for much the same reasons.
i had become an insufferable twat.
Here's the thing and it's taken me some time to recognize this about myself. Or i recognized it long ago but oddly, my ego wouldn't allow me to speak the words. i suspect i'm great. i do not say i am fully convinced of this for i spend much of my time lamenting not being great. Much of my depression seems to me now to come from not living up to my suspected potential, a word and phrase i heard growing up about as often as, "Wash your hands before dinner." or "Be nice to your brother, you know he looks up to you." or "Quit picking your nose!" "He doesn't work up to his potential," they'd say. "He has so much potential, this is disappointing." "If you would only try, you have so much potential!" Apparently, other people thought i was more than i was trying to be.
Which brought on two counter cravings. The desire to be praised and recognized for the things i did, to be as great as they said i was and the equally emphatic desire to be ignored, to be left alone to do what i felt like doing rather than trying to "live up to my potential." It was like i had to compete not with someone else, but with an imaginary better version of me. A version, i was fairly certain, i did not recognize. Though i fantasized about him a lot. Eventually i decided i couldn't be him so why try. i set my sights at achievable goals, OSHA approved industry minimums and bowed out. Slowly, sadly the disappointed shook their heads and went away.
And you would think that would be the end of it. Or you might not. You're probably savvy enough to know that the worst voice of judment this side of the Great White Throne is in our own heads. There's no where to hide from that voice. No where to run. And so as not to go into a narcissistic navel novel; yada yada, he grew up, struggles with angst common to man, listened to the voices, tried to live up to the potential once, failed, wrecked his marriage, his finances, his family and became a shell of a man, a burnt-out desolate man, a man who wandered out into the wasteland.
And now here they come again. Worming their way into the black matter of my brain. Should i take the bait my soul craves so mightily? Have i become wise enough to handle the power or will the shame this time be mine? Is the Cross enough? Will i here, in this blighted place, learn to live again?
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