The Touch of Jesus

Luke 8:43-48 (NLT)

A woman in the crowd had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding, and she could find no cure. Coming up behind Jesus, she touched the fringe of his robe. Immediately, the bleeding stopped.

“Who touched me?” Jesus asked.

Everyone denied it, and Peter said, “Master, this whole crowd is pressing up against you.”

But Jesus said, “Someone deliberately touched me, for I felt healing power go out from me.” When the woman realized that she could not stay hidden, she began to tremble and fell to her knees in front of him. The whole crowd heard her explain why she had touched him and that she had been immediately healed. “Daughter,” he said to her, “your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”

Author’s Note: my apologies. Meant to include the following message with yesterday’s devotional.

This week’s topic- less than the least: reflections of my time with the Arms of Mercy (volume one) These passages came from a book I wrote about my experiences serving with Arms of Mercy. May you learn as much from reading them as I did from living them…

“How much ya wont fa one of ya burgas,” a thin woman asks sourly. She’s unhealthily thin, nearly emaciated, probably the devastating result of crack addiction. A grave countenance and a bony scowl masks what was once a beautiful woman a lifetime ago. She favors Angela Bassett, with a delicate balance of beauty and tenacity.

“They’re free,” I say tactfully.

With great exertion, she slings her arms at me, draping them over my neck and pulling me into an embrace. She breaks into a sob and slurs through an expression of gratitude. The volatile façade evident a moment ago crumbles. She says we’re an answer to prayer, she says “thank you” a hundred times, even peppering in some “thank you, God” sentiments for good measure. She says she hasn’t eaten in days. She asks if she can get some food now and I share with her our “fee” of a name and a prayer request. When she hears me utter this, the breakdown spills out again. Finally, she forces herself to gather her frayed emotions and says, “Grace. My name is Grace.”

“Well, Grace, let me pray for you real quick and then I’ll grab you some food.”

As I conclude with “Amen,” she weeps again. And, despite my best stifling efforts, I join her.

When I hand her the plate, she reimburses me with an enormous grin. “If I had a camera,” Grace announces from nowhere, “I’d took a picture wit ya so I keep this good memory.”

And then, I guess because of my odd Angela Bassett observation and the camera request, my next thought came to me. One day, when I’m blessed with an extravagant mansion (which realistically will be in heaven because, let’s face it, I’m a public school teacher in the state of Mississippi) my wish is to have pictures of myself with others plastered from top to bottom, side to side, smothering the walls. Framed. Maybe even signed. I won’t choose to be like the majority of people who decorate similarly, their pictures displaying them standing and gawking awkwardly and awe-struck with celebrities and politicians and athletes and artists. People like Barak Obama shaking my hand when he was but a lowly candidate for President. Or Aaron and Mike from the band Staind, their arms wrapped around my neck like brothers. I would rather my walls be hung with portraits of me and those I’m feeding on Nelson and Clay Streets. It would be a living testament, not to me, but to Jesus Christ. Each photograph capturing a moment in which heaven stood still, then applauds. Not because of what we had did, but because sinners repented, the weak became strong, there was hope for the hopeless. Each hurtful and hopeful eye watching over me day in and day out, reminding me what one poor choice could lead to. And yet also reminding me that Christ shows His love to us all, especially to the least of these. That could have been me. That was me. Not on Clay Street, but its older brother, the road of self-destruction.

“Hey, Jason, I don’t want to take advantage or nuthin’. But there be any way I get another burga’?”

Although unofficial, our policy is to only issue one plate per person. This ensures we serve the greatest amount of people and don’t garner a reputation as an “all-you-can-eat” restaurant. But I’ve witnessed Major and Everidge give extra portions as needed and, truth be told, I’ve done the same. I never hesitate. “Let me get that for you.”

Then, as swiftly as she appears, Grace vanishes into the night. In my heart I’m reminded that this is a seed planting ministry. Like someone more famous and gifted than myself once penned, “We’re just blowin’ in the wind.” My prayer is that Grace is blowing toward hope and recovery.

Worry and Worship

Matthew 6:25-34 (NLT)

That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?

And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?

So don’t worry about these things, saying, "What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?" These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.

So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

…by the time I walk through the grimy swing door at the shelter Saturday morning, Clive smears on a stupid smirk. It’s almost sinister, with his mouth stretched animatedly and his eyes darting back and forth between his open Life Recovery Bible and me.

“Are you going to make me ask?” I say.

He plays coy. “Good morning, Mr. Provine. There’s a fresh pot of coffee on.”

“Thank you. Now…how did your meeting with Steve go?”

“Went good, man. Went good.”

As an wannabe writer, I’m usually the one masterfully shaping the suspense of a story. Today, Clive the Student transformed to Clive the Teacher. I’m hanging expectantly by every word and movement, fearing that an overly happy and content reaction translated to negative news, but still hoping for the best.

“I got the job,” he says anticlimactically.

“Start on Monday. Be doing oil changes and stuff.”

“Praise God,” I rejoice with him.

He knots up a moment before flailing in the blink of an eye. “Praise God,” he roars, jerking around like one of those Holiness preachers. Tears well up in his eyes and spill over. “God is so good to me, man.”

“I know.” I pat him on the back in an encouraging fashion.

“You have no idea,” he responds. He’s back to normal. The tears dry and the grin reemerges. “I got to show you somethin’, brotha. Walk with me,” he draws out, again like a charismatic minister. We leave the meeting room and walk until we stand at the closed door to the fellowship hall. With vigor, he swings the creaking door open, steps back, raises his hands, and pumps his fists. “Taste and SEE that the Lord is good…”

I poke my head hesitantly around the corner, keenly aware of the tradition of practical jokes pulled at the Arms of Mercy. There’s nothing above the door I can trigger to spill all over me. There are no people poised to jump out and try to give me a heart attack. There is no brand new car I had won. There is no Publishers Clearinghouse representative with a check for one million dollars. What there is, however, is the cordoned-off back portion of the fellowship hall crammed with anything (and everything) needed to start life anew. At least in a physical home sort of way. Couches, a Lazy Boy recliner, a big screen TV, framed pictures, a desk, table and chairs, bed and mattresses, clothes, bathroom supplies, Christmas decorations. Golf clubs. How that much stuff was compressed to fit in that space is still a mystery. Only enough space for a small trail through the things is open.

“What’s all this?” I stare in wonder.

“Donations, man. Donations.”

“We’ve never had a donation like this.”

“That’s what Major told me, too.”

“And right before you’re about to leave us.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” he exclaims, his joy running over again.
“Praise God,” he echoes. “And I’m so glad I get to share this moment with you…”

“Me, too.”

“’Cause I’m gonna need someone to help me move it all.”

We laugh together, one in spirit.

Today’s Application: In what ways can you relate to Clive?

Morning Message

Scripture References:

Title or topic of message:

Notes:

Questions I have about the message:

How can I apply this message to my life?

Delicate Fade

Matthew 5:3-10 (NLT)

God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,
    for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
God blesses those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
God blesses those who are humble,
    for they will inherit the whole earth.
God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice,
    for they will be satisfied.
God blesses those who are merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
God blesses those whose hearts are pure,
    for they will see God.
God blesses those who work for peace,
    for they will be called the children of God.
God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right,
    for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.

Thirsting unquenched

A labored breath

Scrape my wound for healing

My calloused heart betrays me

drowning breath, breathe

Be still, swallow hard

A tear

Rip the stitches of reality

A schizophrenic daydream

Losing all to gain life

Madness ravage consumed

Seeing red trickle, unconscious

Three nails grace resolved

A stranger unassuming

Branches outline the wreckage

Battered soul, torment and trouble

Seams of hope creased

Stumble, shatter, psychological

My need a Word unfathomed

Run to the dying

Eternity embraced by the hem of a garment

Pastels of the faded

Restored.

 

Daily Question: How can you relate to the poem?

Aceldama

Matthew 11:28-30 (NLT)

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”

 

Goodbye my friend

I’ll see you again

 

Got the news not long ago / the sad story how you had to go

At least that’s what you thought / as you closed your eyes and sought

The peace that passes human understanding / this fake world can be all too demanding

 

Rest your weary head

In the nail scarred hands

Lay your crown of thorns

At the Savior’s feet

 

Gun stuck up to your head / after that your body bled

No way out except eternity’s door / your last thought as your head hit the floor

Times together now seem like a waste / this rancid bitterness I can taste

 

Rest your weary head

In the nail scarred hands

Lay your crown of thorns

At the Savior’s feet

 

Always was your very best friend / forever and ever, even to the end

Will I ever be whole again / fare thee well, goodbye my friend

Troubled soul dead by the gun / now at peace, at one with the Son

 

Rest your weary head

In the nail scarred hands

Lay your crown of thorns

At the Savior’s feet

Goodbye…

 

Daily Question: How can you relate to the poem?

In His Presence

Revelation 5:12-13 (NLT)

And they sang in a mighty chorus:

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slaughtered—
    to receive power and riches
and wisdom and strength
    and honor and glory and blessing.”

And then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea. They sang:

“Blessing and honor and glory and power
    belong to the one sitting on the throne
    and to the Lamb forever and ever.”

 

Humbly bow my head in silent prayer

Knowing somehow You’re always there

Fall before You a broken man

You alone my God can understand

Deeply regret my lost innocence

Forgotten now, in Your presence

A desperate search, a calling brings

Nothing more than this song I sing

 

And I praise Your name

Until Your Spirit falls down over me

And I praise Your name

Until You Spirit falls all over me

 

Choosing now this day to stand

Always striving, through you I can

Deny myself, take up my cross

All I am, I consider loss

Tears of joy stream down my face

 

What once was lost, now found in your grace

Now with hope, love, and empathy

Forever I’m Yours Lord, forever I will be free

 

And I praise Your name

Until Your Spirit falls down over me

And I praise Your name

Until Your Spirit falls all over me

 

Hear me as I cry out to You

See me as I look up to You

Touch me as I reach out to You

Fill me as I bow before You

 

Daily Question: How can you relate to the poem?

Fly in the Ointment

James 1:2-4 (NLT)

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.

 

Sit in my room alone / not much but I call it home

No reason to care any more / forgot what I’m fighting for

Feel like a nobody / in a world full of some bodies

Body numb in this drunken state / do I deserve this miserable fate

Free me of this pain and sorrow / I can have a brighter tomorrow

 

I hate myself

When I let you down

Lift me up

Off the ground

 

This writing seems so meaningless / still somehow drawn to its nothingness

Thoughts deceive their lonely thinker / and the heart eludes its seeker

Draw the line at apathy / don’t need your sympathy

Overhead I see the flies / creatures of death I despise

This wasteland is so vast / this word will be my last

 

I hate myself

When I let you down

Lift me up

Off the ground

Suffer through this

Live through this

Life.

 

Daily Question: How can you relate to the poem?

Wither

John 15:1-6 (NLT)

“I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more. You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me.

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing. Anyone who does not remain in me is thrown away like a useless branch and withers. Such branches are gathered into a pile to be burned.

 “Everyday a seed is born,

Whether or not, it has no choice,

From the womb it is torn,

With a loud and bitter voice.

 

Violent winds snap against,

The frailty of his stem,

No longer can he resist,

The agony consuming him.

 

Rain begins to fall,

As water brings new hope,

For the sake of the call,

He finds another way to cope.”

“HEAR THE CRIES OF PAIN,

AS THE THORN STICKS IN HIS SKIN,

FEEL THE PRESSURE OF THE STRAIN,

AS HE REAPS THE PUNISHMENT OF SIN.

LIKE ALL THINGS IT WILL FADE AWAY,

BECOMING DUST FOR THE WIND TO SCATTER,

BUT THE TASTE OF DEATH WILL NOT STAY,

GONE HOME TO A PLACE MUCH BETTER.”

Daily Question: How can you relate to the poem?

Sinner’s Plea

Author’s Note: Switching it up yet again. In an attempt to keep the devotions from deteriorating into the mundane, I’ve once again thrown a wrench into the typical LifeTogether devotional machine. This month each week will have a theme based upon my other writings. May it help you continue to grow in relationship with Jesus in your reading them …as it has with me in my writing them.

This week’s topic- Poetry

Luke 23:39-43 (NLT)

One of the criminals hanging beside him scoffed, “So you’re the Messiah, are you? Prove it by saving yourself—and us, too, while you’re at it!”

But the other criminal protested, “Don’t you fear God even when you have been sentenced to die? We deserve to die for our crimes, but this man hasn’t done anything wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

“Will this awful pain subside,

Once a small thorn in my side,

Sometimes wish for suicide,

Everything in this world I tried.

 

It rips me apart, tears me in two,

Cry to You asking what to do,

Soul all shades of black and blue,

Innocence gone, now guilt is my view.

 

Seeing You on the cross hanging there,

Bleeding, broken, gasping for air,

My heart breaks, feel a tear,

Should have been me dying there.

Please don’t ask and I won’t tell,

Of the torment I call my hell,

So angry that I want to yell,

This is how it was when I first fell.

 

How long will this hate remain,

See new life come in the rain,

Courage to fight through the strain,

To live is Christ, to die gain.

 

This struggle I continue to fight,

Grab on, dig in, and hold on tight,

At the end of every storm, a light,

I hope mine shines soon and bright.

 

Please hear this sinner’s plea,

Break the chains, set me free,

All I ask is You forgive me,

Cover me with Your grace and purity.”

 

Daily Question: How can you relate to the poem?

Morning Message

Scripture References:

Title or topic of message:

Notes:

Questions I have about the message:

How can I apply this message to my life?