Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in heavenly places in Christ
1 Corinthians 15:52 in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.
Yesterday the issue was the removal of the faithful in the face of great struggle and pain. Today the issue is the change of reality. Our lives are subject to decay, pain, loss and waste. The new promise is a great change that allows no decay, pain and such. We will not die or decay, but we will be changed – is that physically or even more totally? Will we still see, smell, sing and stand together in joy? That will be the promise of Eden fulfilled with a standard we have not experienced in these lives we have here. The one promise I understand that we will need is THE LORD WILL BE THERE! Hang on to that one above the flash, twinkling and trumpet.
For your prayers the Nation of Antigua and Barbuda
The following extra was written by a friend Stan Schmidt in his book “Beyond The Noises” (available on Amazon) since 2007
Secret Place of Thunder:
A host of souls bound behind prison walls and razor wire, enduring horrific conditions of survival. We have heard of such things, but now here we are living out the nightmare in person. How does one weather such a storm? The atmosphere is cold, actually bone-chilling. No matter how we try, we just cannot seem to shake the chill. Stench fills the air and cleanliness is a dream. Our teeth are rotting out of our heads. Every hour is a lifetime. Now and again some slop is pushed upon us that is supposed to be edible. However, once someone spends enough time here, anything can be eaten. The gnaw of starvation drives us not to be picky eaters.
Guards beat us, mock us, and torment us mentally. They attempt to rob us of the only thing we have left, our hearts. Our dignity is gone. Bugs constantly join us, being more friendly than we had desired, but they sure add some substance to thin soup. Oh, and that music they shove through the intercom, that blasted mind defeating noise.
Someone we would get to know will die and just be dragged away. Are we even human? Does the outside world even exist at all? Am I someone? Did my personhood even arrive with me in this dungeon? My body aches and my bones shake. My hope is nonexistent. If I could find a way to end it all, that is an option not too far removed. Even if I made it back to reality, would I even be able to survive?
Oddly, there is one man in this place who seems different. He talks of love, life, and hope. Where does he get off speaking of such things as we are all dying inside and out? I just had to ask him what makes him tick. He told me that he had a secret place of thunder. Then the lights were out and everyone was sleeping, he would go into the bathroom. He would get on his knees with his elbows on the toilet seat and pray. He would praise his God and pray for his fellow prisoners. He would quietly quote Bible verses that her remembered. He would raise his hands to heaven from the darkness of this hole.
At first, I mocked him, but as days went on I began to crave what he had. One night I joined him in his secret place of thunder. He did not fear my opinion, so he went about his routine with me watching. I could not help but be amazed. The next night I was right beside him, on my knees with my elbows on the toilet seat. That moment changed my life. I learned that God can reach down into the deepest hell and give life to those who love Him.
Soon after, we were close brothers, connected by the inseparable bond of faith in Jesus. Our two lights shone brighter and soon the secret place of thunder we not a secret. We had group prayer meetings and fellowship in that room that literally saved our souls. You could barely find anyone sleeping anymore because we were all in the bathroom.
I include Stan’s writing because it parallels some experiences of men and even women in prisons I have been in. NOT ALL, but some. And the bathroom may be a Kairos or Kolbe retreat or Prison Fellowship or visits by someone, but the hope does not have to die because of the past or the present suffering for any of us. If you are willing to be a part of someone’s “BATHROOM” experience, let me know.