Perfect Love

The perfect Love


Love… What is Love?

Everyone is searching for Love today. Ever body wants to be loved or to love someone dear and special. But what is really love?
When God created us he created us with Love, for Love and to give Love. He made us in his perfect image, He made us to Love us and us to Love him. When he made us and our souls he gave us free choice so that we wouldn’t just be robots or some puppets, he wanted us to choose to love him or to receive his love. But he purposely made two holes within our souls. He created this void within our souls that only he could fill it in and no one else. That’s why man is always on the lookout, always searching, trying to fill in that void with something. That’s why many times when he does not find it or in the world, he fills empty and depressed. But this is only for a time; an appointed time in God’s plan, to save the world and mankind That man should find him and find his way back to him and in his arms and his void gets filled with love because god himself is love. Now, how can I know what is love or who is love? But what does Love look like. How can we see it and recognize it? How does it manifest itself? It has many forms in the world today and the world has a little idea about it. The devil made sure to distort it in time, to rub away its splendor and its true meaning. We hear, today in the world, the word Love almost everywhere at every corner, tossed around by man. We hear it songs, books and dirty magazines, on TV, movies, in the mouth of harlots and depraved people. It’s everywhere. People are consumed to the point of going insane with this idea of finding Love and true Love. They are searching it everywhere in anything they can find, except where they should. They are not looking and become disappointed. They close their hearts, turn cold, and blame God for it. We hear Love here, Love there. This word is being tossed around and taken for granted. People use this word for everything and for everyone. It has taken a form of habit, just another word in our vocabulary. It has lost it’s beautiful meaning, that God had intended it for. So what is Love? How does it manifest itself, what is it’s true meaning, and what was it created for. As I said before God is Love, and God is perfect, so Love is also perfect. If you open your eyes to the truth, and if you really want to find it you just have to open your heart and look around you. You will find it everywhere surrounding you. You will find it in the most peculiar places. In the places where you never looked before or even thought of, for that matter. Love is in the smell of a rose, in it’s full bloom, in the song of a bird in spring time, in the smile of an innocent baby, in the words of a poor beggar. Who can offer you more help and comfort than a rich man. Love is in the little things, they are sometimes hidden but they are there. They pop up when they are least excepted to make your day better, when everything seems to crumble down around you, and all things seem gray. The little things are what brings color in our lives, when we need it most. It’s what brings life back and refreshment to our bones. Its what we all dream of, it’s called perfect Love. It’s like a rainbow after a rain, it’s like spring after a horrid winter, it’s like the sun after a summer storm, like day after a dark night, like when Love takes place after fear. Its called perfect Love. Perfect Love comes by night, when you least expect it, like a groom coming in the middle of the night to see his beautiful wife to be, burning by the desire of Love, inpatient to share his Love with his beloved. Love is patient, Love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrong doings. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trust, always hopes, always perseveres. The one other void that God has created in us was meant to be filled by that special one, that he has created and perfected for us from the beginning. That one special soul mate, who is meant to come in our lives, at the perfect timing of God, when the two souls are ready and perfected to become one soul when they need. At the right time and the perfect place, that has been appointed and meticulously planned by God, the roads of the two intersect. Without expecting, without planning it, or even dreaming it, it just happens in a moment where perhaps the two souls were giving up hope. Perhaps they were just hurt or bleeding, swearing to themselves never to love again, promising to just look for their own good, and then they suddenly bump into each other. When that happens they look into each others eyes and without knowing they recognize each other although they don’t want to believe it anymore. Afraid to give into Love again and be hurt. Little do they know in the beginning, that their ways were meant to collide and that they were meant to be, from the beginning.

In another time and place once they knew each other, and were separated to find themselves, God and their souls. They don’t know that fate and true love has brought them together. They don’t know that they walked once, listened to the same song, grew up in two different places of the world and it’s their feet that brought and attracted them towards each other. They met half way in a place where they, with or without their own will, have ended up to be. Little do they know at first that all their troubles and disappointments have only worked for their own good, only to prepare them for each other and to make them ready for what was set before them. All this time they were made ready and perfected for each other so that when they would meet, they would recognize each other and know how to appreciate one another. Tests and problems would come their way from the beginning to show if they are ready for each other if they know how to handle them and to make them see in each other their character and to realize how ready they are for what’s to come. Have they learned their lessons from their past mistakes? Are they ready for each other? But that’s not a matter of a question. For when they are the real soul mates and they are walking in God’s perfect plan they will achieve in everything that will be set before them in such a way that will bring out what God has put in them all those years of preparation. Nothing will stop them, answers and wisdom will come instantly in their ways and will be their companions. For what is meant to be is meant to be. Not even the past hurts or past “loves” and temptations can disturb their love. Things do come cause the devil ,the king of darkness, hates God’s plan and hates perfect Love. His trying attempts are pitiful. He is sending in the ways of the two souls all kinds of old temptations, old unsatisfied loves and lovers to lure them away from each other and destroy the plan. Even if for a small time which can for the two seem an eternity and in the same time just a few minutes, he can achieve to set them apart from another and look away and play with their past, the two souls are still meant for a greater purpose. No devil in hell can fight and destroy what God has planned from the beginning. Their meeting and their reencounter with one another will be so much better, so much sweeter than before cause then they will know that their ways were meant to cross and nothing was just a coincidence. Then they will know what they had and what they lost, then they will know what they looked for their entire life, and then they will know the meaning of perfect love in it’s beauty. Then they will be whole, one soul, in a higher greater plan, set by the greatest author of the universe. Their story was written in the sky by the stars. The Perfector of love is looking down on us with the same kind of love, with the same eyes, the eyes of one who is in love and sees us perfect and with no fault. He has the perfect love for us. THE HAPPY ENDING

Words

Speaking
by Mark Driscoll

It is said that the average woman speaks around 5,000 words per day whereas the average male speaks around 2,000. For men who work full time outside of the home, the number increases to as many as 3,000 words a day, and 10,000 to 20,000 words a day for the average woman working full time outside of her home. Furthermore, we send innumerable emails in addition to spending countless hours on the telephone. In short, we communicate a lot, in both spoken and printed words.


The Tongue

Proverbs has a great deal to say about what we say; it likely addresses the subject of our speech more than any other book of the Bible. It is a good place to start for those wanting to spend considerable time in Scripture examining the subject. According to James, Jesus’ brother, our tongue is often the last part of our body to get sanctified (James 3). He compares the power of our tongue to the bit in a horse’s mouth, the rudder on a ship, a wild beast, and a small spark that could set a fire of destruction as big as hell itself. In Ephesians 4:29 we are told to speak only “what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” Jesus said that “men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned” (Matthew 12:36–37). In meditating on this verse, it occurred to me how much I will have to answer for, considering that I speak roughly 60,000 words each Sunday, or what the average man speaks in a month!
Condemnable Speech

The Bible is filled with examples of condemnable speech, including cursing God, blasphemy, making false accusations, perversity, rashness, harshness, wickedness, boasting, lying, flattering, bitterness, nitpicking, adulterous flirtation, busy-bodying, gossip, nagging, whining, complaining, needless quarreling, and plain old foolish stupidity in its innumerable forms. On the other hand, the Bible also describes speech as an opportunity for worship, prayer, grace, teaching, counsel, preaching, kindness, truth, comfort, love, healing, sweetness, encouragement, mercy, hope, gentleness, conviction, and faith. As Proverbs 18:21 says, “The tongue has the power of life and death.”
An Indicator of the Heart

In many ways, the tongue is an indicator of the heart because, as Jesus said in Matthew 12:34, “out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.” The disciple of Jesus learns to speak under the discipline of the power of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit enables Christians to speak truthfully in love – not too much or too little – in a manner that is appropriate for both the hearer and Jesus, who is listening in on our words. Sometimes, the key is to get our time to listen silently to God through His Word so that when we do speak, we echo Jesus.

100 Christian priciples for a happier Life

HI guys I would like to share with you 100 principles that could help improve your christian life and to be more victorious while we are in this body. These are lessons I have learned in 1 year and things I try to base my life on. It works if you have faith. I hope it will help you too.


1.The Joy of Lord is my strength. (start with this one, its the most important)

2.I can do all things through Christ who strenghtens me.

3.Give God praise in the midst of a storm or in the fiery fernice.

4.Stand firm on the ground of faith.

5.The devil is out to steal your joy and not your things.

6. The enemy comes only to kill steal and destroy but you are equipt with what you need to defeat him. You got the Word.

7.Jesus died so we can have life and enjoy it.

8.A happy christian is a succesful christian.

9.I can choose to be happy no metter what my circumstances are.

10. Faith is that step you take into the unseen trusing God to lead you.

11.Let others see Jesus shine trough your acts.

12.If you want to be seen big in God's eyes make your self small in the eyes of man. You might have to loose your reputation over that.

13.To be a leader first you have to be a servent.

14. Jesus was waking up everyday with a pourpose to go about doing good. Make that the goal of your life and let that image grow in you. His image.

15.Live with purpose live with passion with a vision and know where you go and what your destination is.

16.You are an embassador of Christ. It is the highest calling, the biggest responsability, the greatest job on earth.

17.Live life with such purpose and passion that others would want what you have got.

18.Will you take anyone with you along when you go to heaven or will you go alone? Or will you keep some people out of heaven beacuse of the way you lived your life?

19.There si nothing more sad in life than living with regrets that you have not done what God called you to do.

20. God has created us for a purpose and we dont live up to that, we feel frustrated and unfulfilled.

21.I will choose to do the right thing to do even though I don't feel like it.

22.I shall not go by feelings but rather what I know God would want me to do.

23.My feelings will not have control over me or over my thoughts.

24.I can choose what I think. I can choose to think positive.

25.Positive thinking can change my whole life. It can change my actions, my behaviour and my atittude.

26.My thoughts cannot over rule me if I choose to.

27.If I cannot stop one negative thought from taking over my mind I can open my mouth and start confesing the Word.

28.Stop in time one little negative thought before it grows bigger into a tree.
One little tiny negative thought can bring you to confusion than it turns into agravation, frustration, upset, complaining and streght into depression.

29.I know that the world wont change, things might not change or my circumstances, but I can change my atittude towards things.

30.Do unto others as you might want others do unto you.

31.The atittude of the mind is the atittude of my life.

32.Where the mind goes the man follows.

33.The mind is the battlefield.

34.If you let your mind be controled and led by the Holly Spirit your life will be more blessed and simpler.

35.If you listen carefully during the day, you will hear the Holly Spirit speaking to you and giving you checks about diffrent things in your life.

36.Listening to the Holly Spirit can save your life or other peoples life form danger.

37.Usually the things that the Holly Spirit tells you to do are not humanly logical.

38. Don't quench the Holly Spirit.

39. The Holly Spirit never stops talking, only you stop listening when you start looking arround at your circumstances.

40.Are you too busy? Than you are too busy for God.

41.Are you busy or are you fruitful. Stop saying you are busy as an excuse and start saying your fruitful and be fruitful. Thats what God called us for.

42.If you want to be happy go make someone else happy.

43.Are you helping someone or are you helping only yourself?

44.Happiness is a choise not a feeling.

45.If you think your problems are big, go find somone whos problems are bigger than yours.

46.Are you expectin money, witout respecting money?

47.We call ourselvs stewrts of things but we act like owners. We are not really owning something that God ment it as a gift.

48.God will always give you as much as you can handle.

49.The borrower is a slave to the lender.

50.The money can help us rule or it can put us in ruin.

51.If your out go is more than you income your upkeep will be your downfall.

52.I am the head and not the tail above and not beneath.

53.I can land to many nations but i dont have to borrow.

54.Set your mind and keep it set, that is likely that not everything will go my way today.


More coming, next time...

Happy new year to all 2009

Hi guys..I know,... I know, it has been awhile since i have been in here and written anything, but hey I am back. One year has past, and boy what a year has been for me. Awsome just awsome. Ok I have lots to say lots of lesson I have learned that I want to share with you all. Even more pictures and testemonies and I will try to give an update of all. I will have more videos too. I hope you guys can handle it all... hehe. But first I would like to start with the lessons I have learned througout this last year. So have fun, enjoy it and I hope you guys will write me back and give coments too. You have the oportunity to trevel with me through my life. I love you all and have a nice blessed year.

Paul's face 1

The lantern cast a shadow dim
Across Paul’s face and covered him,
As if just half a man, with light
On his left side. He kept the right
Side of his face turned to the dark
So Eunice and her son could mark
When he would smile. The last time he
Was here he noticed Timothy,
Especially the trembling and
The awkward twitching in his hand.
Paul felt a kinship with the youth
And asked his mother if the truth
Of Christ had taken root, or made
A difference in the way he prayed
Or talked about his dreams. She said,
“He wants to talk with you. The dread
He felt is almost gone. He told
Me, when you left last time, ‘He’s bold
In spite of how he looks. Do you
Think Paul would meet when he comes through
This way again?’ ‘I think he would,’
I said. If you and Silas could
Come by our house tonight, he’s got
Some painful questions that I’ve not
Been able to resolve. Perhaps
Your story might fill in the gaps
Between my son and God.”
Paul sat
With Silas on his right, and at
His left the young man, Timothy,
With Eunice sitting quietly
Across the table. “Paul, what I
Would like to understand is why
You’re not self-conscious when you preach
In synagogues, or when you teach
In schools, or when the crowds surround
You in the square? I feel all bound
Up in myself whenever I
Have tried to speak. I’d rather die
Than watch embarrassed faces glance
At my bizarre and spastic stance
And twitching hands, and then look down
In pity, or worse, mock the clown,
And laugh at my attempts to speak
Of Christ. Paul, how, week after week,
Can you make your misshapen face
The object of so much disgrace,
And not become embittered at
Man’s cruelty, or worse than that,
The cruelty of God? Has your
Face always been that way, before
You can remember? Or, was it
An injury? I’d gladly sit
Here all night long, if you would tell
Your story, Paul?”
The pleasant smell
Of burning lantern oil filled up
The empty moments, as a cup
Is filled with wine to make one strong
And bold to carry out some long
And painful task. Paul turned his face
A fraction toward the boy. By grace
His mother never blinked, or took
Her eyes from Paul’s. Her steady look
Was trained to see through skin and rest
On deeper things and there be blessed,
And bless. Paul felt this solid grace
And said, “Yes, Timothy, this place,
This night, is ripe for hearing tales
Of how God beats with beams and nails
The rhythm of his gracious plan,
And makes a cruel and ugly man
His healing branch.
It all began
In Tarsus, where my father’s clan
Has lived two hundred years, disbursed
Since mighty Maccabees had burst
Against the idols of the Land.
My father was a Roman and
A Jew, the master of a school
That silenced scathing ridicule
And rivaled all the Greeks for pride
In higher thought. My father tried
In every way to make the Jews
Outshine the pagans who amuse
Themselves with myths and learn, for naught,
Philosophy and empty thought.
He dreamed of having sons who took
The pedestal and without book
Or note outshone Demosthenes,
And brought all Tarsus to its knees
In praise of Jewish rhetoric.
My birth turned out to be a trick,
It seems, and all the deities
Of Tarsus scoffed. The willow trees
Beside the River Cyndus speak
More fluently than Jews with weak
And palsied faces. I was born,
I’ve often thought, as with a thorn
So deep that none could pull it from
Its place. My cheek and eye are numb.
The right side of my lips drop out
As though I had a constant pout.
My right eye never shuts, and drains
Incessantly. There are no pains,
Nor can I feel the drainage so
To wipe my face before I know
It’s time from how the people stare.
Infections in that eye are there
As often as they’re not, and I
Can barely use it now. The cry
That went up from my father’s heart
Was not from pity for my part,
But rage against the gods, or God,
That they—or he—would rise and trod
My father’s dream down into dust.

He wrote me once and said, ‘I trust
You know I named you Saul, but not
Because he was a king. His lot
Was to be king, but he was born
A fool. He couldn’t blow the horn,
And never led his troops to war.
And ended in a heap before
His enemies, impaled upon
His own dull sword.” The bitter dawn
Of my third birthday I was sent
Up to Jerusalem and spent
My youth beneath the watchful eye
Of one my father knew, Rabbi
Gamaliel. My mother wept
And tried to help me to accept
It as a kind of mission for
The Lord, like Samuel who bore
The burden of the word when he
Was only three, and went to be
With Eli in the temple of
The Lord in Shiloh. But her love
Could not conceal my father’s aim
And plan: protect the family name
And pride, eliminate the shame,
Advance the cause of his acclaim
And guard the status of his school.
Even at three I was no fool
To think my going was a gift
To me, or that her words could lift
My load.
Gamaliel was tough,
Just like the Torah in his rough
And flawless hands. He looked at me
One time and said, ‘Saul, you can be
The best rabbinic mind with ease,
A Pharisee of Pharisees,
The Law and Prophets written on
Your mind. God gave you mental brawn
To make up for your outward looks.
If you will give yourself to books
And parchments, and the legacy
Of all the oral wisdom we
Possess, you will advance above
All the contemporaries of
Your age, and stop the mouths of strange
And foolish men who dare to change
The law, and even claim the king
Of Israel has come. The sting
Such messianic fools will feel
From your intimidating zeal
Will crush their cause and you will see
Why God brought you to live with me.’

Gamaliel could not conceive
That all I wanted to receive
Was not the talent to transcend
My age, but just to have a friend.
Why would a boy choose to contend
Or fight, if he could have a friend?
But then Gamaliel was right.
There were no friends. And so both night
And day I lived with books. These were
My silent friends—no scorn, no slur—
They all accepted me. They spoke
To me, but never made a joke
About my face. And so I built
A wall around my world. All guilt
And shame remained outside. Inside
I had my friends, my Law, my pride,
My flags of joy above the world,
An echo of my rage unfurled.”

Paul stopped. The hand of Timothy,
Before him motionless, lay free
Upon the table. Eunice sat
Enthralled with Paul, but noticed that
The tremors of her son were still.
“Paul, you’re not done, are you?” “Let’s fill
Our cups before we do the rest.”
Paul said, “I’ll get to your request.
There’s more. My citadel would soon
Be breached and sacred rubble strewn
In broken pieces everywhere.
Let’s pause, and then I’ll take you there.”

May God in mercy make this flame
A crucible for testing blame—
This candle one, Lord, let it burn
Our blaming soul until we learn
How much of it is sin. Burn down
The wall around our little town
That we have built to keep outside
The pain, but found it shelters pride.
O let this light expose the stain
And guilt of how we make our pain
A warrant for our sin, and then
Build walls around our guilt, and when
They’re up, unfurl the flag of rage.
Come, candle one, consume this cage,
And set us free. We do not need
These walls. The Lord of glory freed
Us for himself and our disgrace
He took, and he will lift our face.

© Desiring God

Paul's face 2

Paul turned the right side of his face
Into the dark and took the case
He carried in his cloak, and found
The linen napkin folded ’round
The little flask of oil, where none
Could see. The constant tears had run
Down to his chin and left their stain
Like ashen stripes on cracked terrain.
He wiped the stain, as he had done
Ten thousand times before, till none
Remained, then in the shadows held
The open flask of oil, that smelled
Like beaten olives crushed to make
A healing ointment for the sake
Of others crushed another way.
He paused, and then discreetly lay
His moistened fingers on the place
That never healed, then took the case,
And put it back, and said, “Let’s see,
Now, Timothy, can you help me?
Where were we when we stopped?”
“You said
Your father hoped to have, instead
Of you, another kind of son
That looked and sounded like the one
He always dreamed would make his school
A famous place. You said that ‘fool’
Is what he called you once, and that
Is why he named you Saul. You sat
And studied at the feet of old
Rabbi Gamaliel who told
You once that you could be the best
Rabbi in Israel and blessed
Above them all, if you would use
Your gifted mind and will, and choose
Your books to be your friends. He said
God gave you mental brawn instead
Of looks, and someday you would put
A stop to foolish claims afoot
In Israel that heaven’s king
Had come. You said, against the sting
Of shame outside, you built a wall
Around your Law and pride and all
Your books.”
Paul smiled, with his good side,
And said, “You listen well. I tried
To live inside that wall with books,
And never stopping by the brooks
To look down at my face, content
To be the best—in vain. I spent
More hours than Gamaliel
Would ever know under the spell
Of two angelic faces in
My youth.” Paul stopped and felt his chin
To see if he should wipe his face,
Then said, “It was a lonely place
Inside that wall.” He glanced across
Where Eunice sat enthralled. “The loss
Of love is like a hollowing
Inside the tree of life. You cling,
And then let go, and feel how great
The tree of love had grown. The weight
Of empty space is heavier
Than all the trunk and branches were
When she was there.”
Paul stared somewhere
Beyond the lantern light. The air
Was thick with eagerness. “Was there
A woman?” Eunice asked, with bare
And simple words. “I never thought
Of her that way. A woman ought
To be grown up. But we were not
Yet twenty-one. There were a lot
Of girls around Gamaliel’s school,
Because he had the finest pool
Of single Pharisees where they
Could fish. But there was one who, day
By day, would work her kitchen rounds
And then read Torah to the sounds
Of her own melodies. Most girls
Did not know how to read. Their curls
Meant more to them than Moses did.
But not Tashuka. Oft I hid
Behind a wall or bush to look,
Or listen, as she sang the book.
And after months of this, I put,
At last, a letter at the foot
Of one great terebinth where she
Would often sit. It said, ‘This tree
Above is like the Law to me,
Because within its shade I see
More beauty than in all the fields
Beyond. And there is none that yields
A sweeter fruit to bless so well
The garden of Gamaliel.
Please know, Tashuka, one there is
Who studies in these walls, and his
Desire is that someday, beyond
All dreams and hope, you might respond,
And, trembling in that very place
Alone, we might stand face to face.’

For three long months I put a note
There every day, and what I wrote
Was all my heart, in hope that she
Would love the Saul that she could see
In letters first, before she saw
My face. I hoped my zeal for Law
And God would be enough to win
Her love in spite of looks and skin.
And then one day I saw her lay
A note there by the tree and stay
For just a moment. Then she left.
I watched, as if I plotted theft,
And stole the letter silently,
And took it to my room, and there
Among my books and parchments, where
I lived so safe, and so esteemed,
And so alone, I sat and dreamed
What she might say. At last I cut
The seal and read, ‘Dear sir, you shut
Yourself away, unseen, unnamed,
Concealed, as if you were ashamed.
There is no need for that. All I
Can see are worthy reasons why
You should stand forth. I would suggest,
Dear sir, put me now to the test,
And in my customary place
Make your proposal face to face.’
And so with fear and trembling I
Prepared myself and prayed that my
Right eye one hour would be dry,
And my lips not so weak when I
Attempt to speak. I saw her come
At her appointed time. My numb
And reddened cheek was hot. She turned
As I appeared. My body burned
With fear and blazing hope. I said,
‘Tashuka, I am Saul. I read
Your letter. Thank you, that you came.’
But as she stared at me, the shame
Increased with every second till
She turned and left me standing still
With flowers in my shaking hand.
I’ve traveled through the Sacred Land
A hundred times, and never met
Her once since then.”
Sad tears had wet
The face of Eunice as she heard
The story of Paul’s loss. She stirred
The cup in front of her, unsure
What she should say. “I’m sorry. You’re
Worth more than that,” she said. Then Paul
Replied, “The mortar in the wall
Around my lonely soul was mixed,
I think, with too much notice fixed
On worth and not enough on grace.
I saw this in another face,
And everything I’d built began
To fall.” So Eunice asked, “And can
You tell us whose it was—this face
So powerful that we can trace
To it the fall of all your world?”
“About a year went by. Then swirled
A storm of controversy in
Jerusalem. There had not been
Such fury since the day we killed
The Lord. And finally it spilled
Beyond what anyone had seen
For years, and filled the court with mean
And raging men, including me,
Though I was but a youth. And we
Were driven to this rage by one
Whose humble face shown like the sun,
And said that Jesus was alive,
And that our Law, and how we strive,
And worship with our feasts,
And sacrifice our flawless beasts
Was coming to an end, and all
That we must do is trust, and call
Upon the mercy of the Lord.
I knew if this was true, a sword
Would pierce the city of my soul
And lay in ruins ev’ry goal
I had, and overthrow my birth,
My pride, and all my vaunted worth.
And so I gathered at my feet
The garments of the most elite
In righteousness as they stoned him
To death. And then, when ev’ry limb
Of Stephen’s body quivered in
The agony of death, the sin
Of all my righteousness appeared
For one brief moment. Killers cleared
Away, and I saw Stephen’s face,
The right side torn away, and grace
Filled all the rest. And with the lips
That he had left he said, ‘Though whips
And stones destroy this flesh, I know
That my redeemer lives. I go.
Behold the Son of Man has stood,
And counts this sinner Stephen good!
However great their sin amount,
Christ, lay it not to their account.’
The wall was breached, and though I raged
To keep myself with Law encaged,
The power of his shredded face
Would prove to be triumphant grace.”

There’s one more chapter, Timothy,
Of what God had to do to me
To free me from myself, and give
Me peace with who I am, to live
In freedom from the looking glass,
To let the stares of others pass,
And ponder not incessantly
That I am seen, but that I see.”

O candle two, ignite this truth
And burn it into every youth:
The love we need is not the kind
That comes to us and tries to find
Some worth or beauty that can keep
The lover true. No, we must sweep
All self-exalting loves away.
One kind of love alone will stay,
And it is not the kind that needs
Our worth or beauty or good deeds,
But intercedes for us and dies
When there is nothing here but lies.
The love that, as we kill, it cries,
“Lord, make these enemies your prize.”

Paul's face part.3

Paul looked at Silas, smiled the kind
Of half-smile Silas loved, inclined
His head toward Timothy, and said,
“The best is yet to come. I dread
To make my friend sit through this tale
Again. I’ve led him down this trail
So many times, he must grow tired
Of hearing it.” “If I aspired
To novelty instead of truth
I might grow tired of it. But youth
And love of novelty are both
A distant memory. I’m loath
To nurse the craving I once had
For newness,” Silas said. “My dad
Once said, ‘Learn well the ancient songs,
My son. Someday a wave of wrongs
Will break across your life, and death
Will beckon you, and your last breath
Will serve you best with ancient hymns
Forged in the fire of shattered limbs
And broken hearts. These ancient songs
Will bear you through a thousand wrongs
And make you strong when others fail
At midnight in a Roman jail.’
So do not fret for me, my friend,
But tell your tale. In fact, the end
Is what I most would love to hear
Again. So finish it. Don’t fear
That you could bore your friend.”
Paul turned
To Timothy again, “I’ve yearned
For you to join us in this band
Of missionaries since God’s hand
Led us through Lystra months ago.
I know you think you are too slow
Of speech and even spastic in
Your hands, and doubt that God could win
A single soul to Christ through you.
But, Timothy, the Lord will do
More than you dream, if you will trust
Him with your mouth and mind, and thrust
Your trembling hand into the strong
And wounded grip of Christ. The long
And crooked path I took before
I could embrace my weakness or
My face, you could be spared. I pray
It will be so tonight. And may
My story’s end make you as glad
To join my band, as if you had
Omnipotence sustaining you,
Because, in truth, my friend, you do.”

Then Timothy replied, “I would,
Paul, thank you deeply if you should
Oblige my wavering heart with this
Last chapter of your tale. The kiss
Farewell that you are asking me
To give my haven here would be
The hardest thing that I have done.
Tell me, how was the battle won
That you should bow, and then embrace
For Christ your weakness and your face?”

“With lethal letters in my hand
From Caiaphas the priest, I planned
My journey to Damascus where
The Way had spread, and thought that there
Gamaliel’s old prophecy
Would finally come true for me:
‘Someday you’ll stop the mouths of strange
And foolish men who dare to change
The law, and even claim the king
Of Israel has come. The sting
Such messianic fools will feel
From your intimidating zeal
Will crush their cause and you will see
Why God brought you to live with me.’
With rage and murder in my heart
Against God’s grace and ev’ry part
Of Stephen’s claim, I set my face
Against the fools who say that grace
Had made a pile of rubbish out
Of all my deeds. I took the route
Up to Damascus, there to break
The back of Jesus’ Way, and make
A great display of my own zeal.
As we approached the town, the seal
Of heaven broke. And suddenly
A blazing light, more bright than we
Had ever seen or dreamed could be,
Shone like a hundred suns on me
And struck me to the ground with so
Much force I did not even know
That I had fallen, when it seemed
As if a thousand rivers streamed
Together at the cataracts
Above my head and fell with facts
As heavy as an ocean filled
With truth. A voice from heaven spilled
It’s thund’ring falls into the sea:
‘Why are you persecuting me?’
I cried, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ And what
I heard him say forever shut
My mouth against the Way. He said,
‘My name is Jesus. I was dead,
And am alive for evermore.
These fools you aim to kill mean more
To me than all the galaxies.
You cannot win or silence these.
The way you wield your priestly sword
You strike against the risen Lord.
Go to the city now and you,
My slave, will hear what you must do.’

For three long days I could not see,
Nor did I eat or drink. One plea
Was on my lips: ‘O God, let there
Be mercy on my head and spare
Me all the wrath that I have earned
Because I killed your sheep and spurned
The Shepherd of your flock, and tread
With scorn upon your grace. I dread,
O God, what I deserve. My face
Is covered, now, with shame. My place
Is with the worst of sinners in
The lake of fire, where all my sin
Will make you just, while I repay
My debt with an eternal stay.
O God, O Christ whom I have killed,
O Lamb of God whose blood I spilled,
All covered now with vile disgrace,
O Lord, have mercy on my face.’

And as I prayed, a man appeared
Sent from the Lord. At first he feared
To come, but when he learned what Christ
Had planned for me, he sacrificed
His fear and came. He said, ‘Receive
Your sight, my brother, Saul, and leave
The blindness of your soul behind
And come, the light of Truth has shined
On you. Your sins are covered by
The blood of Christ. And when you die
Each day, and then at last, it will
Not be a punishment, but fill
What’s lacking in the Savior’s pain:
The readiness to make it plain
By suffering yourself. God chose
You from the womb to bear the blows
That bring the blood of Jesus to
The world, and made your face the true
Divide between the lovers of
The Gospel grace and those who love
The praise of man. To these you are
A stumbling block, to those a star
To guide them safely home to God.
The comeliness of your façade
Means little if they’ve gone astray.
What counts is that you know the Way.
Henceforth the Lord lifts up your face
Your pain is now the path of grace.’”

Paul looked at Timothy to see
If he had understood. “To be
A member of your team would cost
A man his life.” He paused. “You’ve lost
A lot to follow Christ.” But Paul
Replied, “If I could lose it all,
It would be gain. There’s one last part
You haven’t heard. It might impart
The final piece and help you see
How loss is gain. Recall that we
Began this tale in Tarsus where
My father had his school. And there
He named me Saul, and grieved that I
Was unfit for his dreams. “Good-bye,”
Was all he said, and sent me to
Jerusalem. I never knew
Him all my life. But then one day
The saints in Caesarea lay
A plan for me to flee and move
To Tarsus till the plots should prove
Ephemeral. And there I found
The synagogue. “May I expound
The Law and prophets here,” I asked.
The ruler said, “If you were masked.
What claim have you to teach the Law
Of God?” “I think you hold in awe
My teacher in Jerusalem,
Gamaliel.” “You touched the hem
Of great Gamaliel? You sat
At his beloved feet?” “And that
From when I was a child of three
Till I became a Pharisee.”
“We will be glad to hear you speak,
And we will overlook your weak
Appearance.” “There’s one question, sir.
Would I be right, or would I err,
If I assume the master of
The school will come?” “For love
Of fame—a Pharisee, from old
Gamaliel—he’ll come. His gold
Is everything that shines. It’s good
The master’s almost blind. He should
Give you a hearing.” “One more thing,
Sir, as you go, could you please bring
To my attention when he takes
His seat this Sabbath day?” “He shakes.
His hands. His head. You’ll know him when
He comes.”
I watched for him. And then
He came, and took the foremost seat,
And sat directly at my feet.
I preached the gospel unashamed.
They listened calmly, till I named
The great Messiah, Jesus, Lord
Of heav’n and earth, who died and poured
His blood out on a Roman stake,
And came back from the dead to take
His seat at God’s right hand. Before
They left in rage, I spoke one more
Brief word: ‘God sent his son,’ I cried,
From glory down to shame. He died
That every dad who did the same
Might be forgiven, and the blame
Be carried by the Christ defiled,
And sons and fathers reconciled!’

They all stormed out, except for one.
And there, the father and the son,
Alone, with Christ, stood face to face
Beneath the cataracts of grace.

“Do you see Timothy? The years
The pain, the loneliness, the jeers
From children all my life—all this,
My friend, to bring my father bliss
Forever with his son before
The risen King whom I adore?
I ask again, dear Timothy,
Will you now come and die with me?”

Bright candle three, the answer waits,
While ev’ry person contemplates
And ponders in the quiet light
Of your small flame how true and right
Are all the promises of Christ
And how for these he sacrificed.
Do I believe with all my heart
The canvass of my life is art?
That ev’ry crimson thread is laced
Through dark or silver fibers placed
So perfectly it will be plain
That none was woven there in vain?
Do I believe my faulty face
Will prove to be a work of grace?
And will I banish fear and shame
And lift my head to speak the Name?
I now by ev’ry promise I possess,
With Timothy, do answer, yes.

© Desiring God