Plenty strong was the fear as it cast it’s shadow with her dark tentacles pulling at every part of my being, not allowing me to even leave the car, sitting in the driveway waiting like some bored taxi driver buying time until his fare came back.
I was already thick into the gift of God blessing’s, the many gift’s a man might see as he but stumble’s on the path our so Glorious Father. When you witness gift after gift given in such miraculous ways, freely in glorious bounty, how could someone possibly turn their face, or worse yet, hide from meeting yet again another gift.
But such a man was I, no correction, having no problem meeting people I feel comfortable with; unstimulated, unchallenged, never purposeful, unable to prompt inner growth, basically anyone that kept me wallowing in the dirt I so fervently served for years, those kind of people I had no trouble knowing. Maybe it was because I was so secure in where I was at, that it was where I was yet going which prompted the scary, exciting, and challenging sight.
But step out, look into the face, not even the grand confrontation of the eyes of someone who actually might press and ignite that within me, which so desperately tries to shine out, no I think I should just sit in the car and let my mother visit herself the “Hidden Prayer Room”, she so eagerly spoke of.
When all fear was gone what was this that remained, a pride that I have all I need? A confused sense of someone or something seeming different is just to strange to risk yet another change in my already rapidly fluctuating life?
Could this lowly feeling, this whispering voice, this dark lurking creature, hiding under the bed of my youth, or in the dark closet peering out at night be “The Fear of Man”?
What could possibly a man fear, hearing word’s spoken of the another his mother wishes to meet. A Messianic Jewish man, a man who believes in Christ, who built a hidden payer room for people to stay, free of any costs, just to rest their head from the worries and torments of world and soul. Ok, he has also told people on more then one occasion about the “Chair where Jesus Sits”, but haven’t I on more then one occasion shared the two occasions I actually saw Christ?
But here is it still, bar from me any reservation as to the eccentricity, and my own trepidation to change, there remains but one figure between standing on the positive side of a recently crossed river bank, and further venturing into a Promised Land, and that is a giant of proportions that would dwarf Goliath. I say dwarf him because the fear today is amplified by a lifetime’s constant bombardment of all the senses brainwashing out of a child any and all uniqueness, individuality, personal potential, any qualities that might lend a person to believe they are special, created for a unique purpose in this world.
Somewhere deep in the soul lies a hurt that found it’s way into a young life, most likely seeping into a perfectly created gently sweet adorned room, soft in it construct of mild shades and bright tender hues.
The pastel colored nursery of a child’s heaven, should only be filled with tenderness, love, and compassion; Light shining though cascading streams of soft light colors, warm blankets, and cuddly bears, with puppy dog eyes inviting a feast’s supply of hugs and kisses, mimicking those given in abundance by adoring caring parents. Secure is the furnishings of care, a loving rocker, a sweet bed safe from danger’s, a picture of God’s intent for this young life.
The dark mold slithers it’s way into the crevices that unguarded words and inadvertent neglect, have rumbled small crack’s in the young foundation, most likely at the base of the young house. That in which will no way show it’s evil head until it has grown thoroughly through the walls ultimately bursting out of it’s dark confines.
Demon’s can take on any and all forms, using all the created images that our God placed on this earth, and then warping them into their sinister use. Riding the coat tails of a neglectful father, or a resentful mother, dragged in like the dirt under the feet of wolf who pears through the cracked window hungry for young flesh to devour. Minds of small children misled and shaken by the very people trusted to impart truth, all along their heart’s cry out, because deep down they know the truth, the same truth they have realized at least since they were very little.
“Woe to them that cause these little one to fall, for it would be better for him if he had a millstone hung around his neck and cast into the abyss.”
Let’s examine dark mold for just an instant.
Starting out as the smallest of spores, incomprehensibly tiny, insignificant, even fragile, that such as a small insignificant creature, with stature so minute compared to a man, or woman for that matter, could yet wreak such havoc onto the life and purpose of said child? A man could lay it to waste with but a motion, such is the difference in strength, and it is not until it grows that any damage at all can be inflicted, and only then if it remain hidden, like the coward it is.
It creeps in through small imperfection’s of our home, the mistakes, or stress fractures caused by outward imposed pressures, our home not it’s, for it has to steal into that which is ours by design.
I needs to despoil nutrients from the house, taking from the structure, those parts that are meant for support, meant by God to help with the child’s growth; wood beams, floor boards, insulation, parents, family, friends, the church, school, and then it eats at them slowly almost undetected for years. Interlacing its black roots throughout the framework of the structure.
Oh by the way it has to be near the water, life giving water, that which again was created for the purpose of good; encompassing health, growth, nutrition, cleaning, healing, water is stolen and turned to it’s dark purpose, to facilitate rotting and make more room for more of it’s dark self. Ever greedy, every hungry, slimy, stinky, the worst kind of fowl blackness.
Taking that which is designed for good, like the church, and interweaving guilt and judgment, forging ideals that separate, push people away, kill, and stifle, instead reaching out in love, forgiveness, grace, and tenderness, as intended. The dark pulls back into dark recesses, sucks the water in and converts it to filth.
What is of the purest, clean, clear, freshest, conceived in the very heart of the Father, when her water was intended for wrapping warm comforting arms around this small boy child, pulling his arm close to her, in soft secure grip of loving tenderness, holding this young son of God close against her bosom, safe from the loneliness that this life would so speak into his ear, how could something so good, so true, ever be turned?
Some of the darkest most sinister attacks come right out of the swaddling of those closest, and intended for the most good, such as the church. Children of pastors, persecuted by homes riddled with dark cracks, have the greatest of difficulty, for the very institutions that where designed to help them, become their jailers holding them in a secret cell far from view, or deep under the ground from detection.
But greater is the calling to those who have the greatest challenges in this life! The veins of mold run so deep and thoroughly throughout some structures, often a complete bulldozing is only the beginning of the cleansing that must surely occur.
Thank God, he made the bulldozers as well, and they are under His call.
Black mold hides from the light, it is attracted to the dark, and it can only grow in dark damp places. Hiding not only it’s face from the life giving light, but if the light shines on it it’s entire existence dries up and withers. By the time the darkness finally starts showing its face in the light, the amount of the infestation is so great, and bold is its defiance even to the light, only a complete destruction and reconstruction can save the home.
Oh by the way, it’s spores are deadly. People can die long before it is discovered.
But remember my dear brothers and sisters, the light is there, it’s everywhere, it is our walls that the shadow lurks within, those same walls that hold us back from getting out of our chair and claiming the full discovery of the gift God would gave for us. They are the walls that stop us from seeing God’s face in every gift that places her sweet hand in ours. It’s our own house that keeps the light from shining into the dark places.
Take down the veils, open up the shades, make the walls transparent as pure crystalline gold an the darkness must die! Tear down the walls, those built by our parents, our experience, the world, ourselves, and only then can the cool spring breezes, the very breath of God, His Word’s, blow through the finely lit halls of God’s glory.
My desire to keep hidden, to remain behind my veil, sit in my car almost cost me one of the most significant blessings of my life, to meet such a powerful man of God, a sweet teacher, a blessed friend, an officer in His army beckoning to another; “come put out your hand”.
Funny how mold works.
But there is another possibility?
An influx of a specialist into the battle field!
The enemy mustering at the edge of a clearing, within safe retreating distance from the tree’s, can at time represent an almost overwhelming opposition, especially when the new young warrior to the battle field, has allowed years of assembly to accumulate.
I ponder the question asked of me only hours ago as I relate and raise the statement of frustration I have heard more and more from believers; “why do my efforts to fight obvious persecuting thoughts and temptations seem to progress without effect?”
Understanding the enemy is key int the ultimate hope to realize victory.
Going into battle daily for the cleaning out of the lurking enemy within the forest’s of our mind, can be a time consuming and somewhat frustrating activity, especially early on. For those of great calling, of which anyone reading this, I am sure with any confidence granted me by the keys from above to unlock those dormant rooms, would reveal the fact that many are the enemy that have been assigned to pester, tempt, ridicule, frighten, and distract, and even inflict a young potential officer in His army, to thwart him or her from the greater task at hand.
Perhaps even a Century of enemy troops stand between defeat and eventual confrontation with the leader, the Centurion that directs the rest. Getting rid of the these directing cowards is key in taking dominion of the second heaven within the mind. But let us for sake of literal content assume that our young believer, you, represented in this story have already been diligently cleaning house.
Stepping onto the battle plane, and taking in the scene before me, first it is necessary to take into the eye the structure of what I see. The battle field is always a place of destruction, it is the place where we have put to death those things that keep us from the victory and dominion of our house in entirety. Dark is the soil from the rich deposit’s of fertilizer, the many death’s of sin and self, that have already preceded. It doesn’t take an Einstein to know that the darker the soil, the more fertile and greater the garden that said soil will produce.
Oh yes granted, we have given leadership to our house, and Jesus, recognized and undisputed Son of the Living God, God personified and come to earth for one purpose, to grant to us the ability and Way to come back to the Father, a payment of our debt, He has been given rule. But we still have to make the choice each and everyone of us, for each and every dirty thing we have called our own, face them, identify them, and drive them out. Christian’s can sin, for that you need look no farther then the author of this article.
That means; armor up, go to the battle field, find them, make them identify themselves, and then attack!, if they don’t go running with their tail tucked, screeching like a stuck pig. It’s true, I’ve seen it!
And while todays assignment is not fully exploring the tactics, attacking postures, strategies, armaments, and available troops the enemy might throw at someone, we will for the sake of redundant reading limitations assume that said warrior has been to the battle field on more then a few occasions, cleaning house for the most part of the majority of enemy troops assigned to keep him or her from gaining and granting dominion over their house, and also displaying said house in the full clarity, with the face of Christ.
So there you have it, a house clean swept through more then the average bears attempt to power spray, and the marked results; a significant reduction of attempts of the enemy to try to make you fall, will often lead to lulls in the action whereby attacks and lurking enemy seem difficult to find.
The enemy does, for that matter, only have a enumerated number of troops, and while that account may very well be difficult for us mortals to wrap our minds around, they are limited all the same. The enemy know’s to waste troops on a futile effort as to harass one of The Father’s officer’s, is no more effective then trying take down said warrior with a snow ball, thrown from a great distance, in the blazing warmth of the clear summers sun in Phoenix Arizona. Of course that’s not to say he won’t occasionally take a shot.
The enemy might decide to send in a specialist.
Scene; There sit’s our young warrior basking in the sun of a green grassed hill, sword casually lying at his feet, not out of neglect but because the need to pick it up and slice the throats of enemies, incapacitate them then bind them up and cast them out, like yesterdays old newspaper. This activity has become less a challenge and more of just an occasional fox hunt, when he has a notion.
Oh he’d be the first to admit there are a couple of foxes probably out there still causing havoc, but for the most part, the hen house has been free of harassment lately, and when there is a very accurate shot standing guard, foolish is the fox that tempts his aim. Much is the fruit of a calm hen house, constant and steady flowing production of good life giving gift’s.
Peaceful days, and a warrior lying in the grass, one might say his bottom has even impressed into the slope the contour of a chair. His eye and hand examining one of the perfect flowers the Lord has graced our young child with.
Gently must he consider the tender flower, because fragile are her pedals, and while he has clearly the Lion standing a vigilant guard within, ready at any moment to pounce into action at but a Father’s call, so does he also have the Lamb of Christ. The lamb who has branded the man’s heart with tenderness, compassion, gentleness, learning in sync every move of battle is intertwined also with a method and manner of healing. Balance is always a key for success.
Suddenly and gently as the sweet scent of morning flowers wrap her slender fingers around his heart, a soft warm barrier descends upon him completely engulfing his upper torso, distinctly strong around his head arms and chest. This supernatural armor that seems to descend, usually precipitates something very Godly is about to happen. The world perhaps has called this intuition, a sixth sense, but this gift God grants is a reactionary calling out of his armor, for just as Jesus said in Luke 19:40; “I tell you that, if these should hold their piece, the stones would immediately cry out.”
His eye lifts but a moment from his careful examination of the flower, he glances towards the horizon resting above the slope of the opposing hill, noticing directly the brown haze that seemed to also decent upon the land. It is the dust of the footfalls of that which is mustering pressing the hill, gathering for some kind of attack.
As the opposing horde begin’s to squeeze in on the territory of our young warrior, but no less importantly then that, the area of the land he has been assigned to protect, his post, the warrior remains in the safe garden comfort of recline in his now moss touched chair.
For the keen sight has shown him there is a giant among them.
There is no immediate danger, they are still along way off, and there is the question of the giant!
Not that giants hold as much of a grip on him in the fear department, that they once did, for he has slew more then a few of their filthy brothers before, and with each, the ease of disposal increases. But there still remain the unknown factor, it is still a bit distant to get a good eye on exactly what is out there clearly, that unknown, lends it’s own factors of uncertainty, and it is a giant!
Let us further examine even as Jesus spoke about the stones speaking, the further context that might apply.
As He approached Jerusalem and saw the city, He wept over it, and said; “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace-but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.”
But praise God Jesus immediately also gives the solution, for in the very next scripture Luke 19:45-46
When Jesu entered the temple courts, he began to drive out those who were selling. “It is written,” he said to them, “‘My house will be a house of prayer’; but you have made it ‘a den of robbers.’”
Ok back to the young prince sitting in the grass.
Like I said ever alert is He for any and all attack’s, having the Lion’s strength and stature, also means he has His senses!
It is but a moment’s moment and he realizes the foul smell of something lurking close!
He rolls quickly to avoid a quick attack that now only slices air in a snake like hiss, striking the ground where only moments earlier his head stood.
A scout, dispatched by the giant to deliver a head wound of fear that without doubt would have paralyzed, if not defeated even a fraction of a lessor warrior, but such is the seasoned veteran to these feeble attempt’s, that it was but a fraction of a moment before the true author of that cat piss smell was easily recognized, and likewise only a marginal evading move with consequent circle slice and yet another frog faced demon head goes tumbling down the hill.
Our warrior’s jaw set in determined indignation, but a smidgen of a smile, for the Lion has completely engulfed him in ferocity and confidence. His eyes set on the prey that awaits across the plain. What is amazing, is as froggies head goes rolling casually down the hill at his feet, the entire troop including the giant come to an immediate and abrupt halt! They are suddenly frozen by the blast of the Lions Roar that just crashed through their dark senses, they are frozen like pillars of salt, with one exception, the shaking of their knees can clearly be heard even from here……
running is really their only chance!
I look up out of the car window at the smile of the strangest Jewish Man I have ever seen. Draped in a purple bath robe, sweet joyful smile mapping his face as far as the east is from the west, white hair like the rays of the sun sticking out from his balding head, encircling his loving face like a streaming aurora. Difficult it is to make out any of those qualities though, past the sparkling diamonds shining out from the eyes so deep with so much wisdom and purpose, that a man comes directly to the realization that many are the volumes that couldn’t contain but a fraction of waits within.
“Come on in for a bit” he says.
Getting out of a seat, facing challenges, fears, giants, in this realm or another, is a magnificent calling we should all but feel honored to take. Great are the giants that stand in our way, greatly microscopic in comparison to what we have been given.
We all have our chairs we long, and fear, to leave.
By Peter Colla
For Peter Laue
“Dear Lord Jesus, thank you for the wisdom You have so graciously granted me. Help me further to use that wisdom ever seeking to demonstrate Your face not mine. Thank You for all the skills You have given me, either by my experience, training, or those you have breathed into me with the various experiences my senses have acknowledged throughout my life. I praise God You have given me all I need to overcome any battle.”