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- Written by: Don Goulding
As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. (2 Kings 2:11) (NIV)
The tornado was a prodigious exit for Elijah. I say this because, while working with an evangelistic team in the U.S. Midwest, I encountered some bizarre twister tales—live chickens plucked, horses relocated while still hitched to a post, and straws of hay driven into telephone poles. There is awesome power and irresistible mystery in a tornado. The fury of acres of storm condenses into a single column. It annihilates some homes and passes through others without disturbing a splinter. Thus, God safely took Elijah up as a way of pointing to the devastation, and protection, of his funnel of love.
There’s a hungry whirlwind zigzagging across the world today. It’s the tornado of the Holy Spirit blasting through the hearts of people. Here is a concentration of love so potent it sweeps some into the presence of God, purifies others, and destroys still more. My own response to this onslaught of one thousand mile an hour love has been … inconsistent.
Often, I run to the cellar crying, “Woe is me. I’ll be consumed. Hide me, fast.”
I hide from an encounter with the might of God. In doing so, I also miss out on the love of God.
Other times, I want only a peek at the phenomenon. Deep down, I panic at the risk of personal loss. It would be fine if it blew across my farm without changing anything. Perhaps a neat miracle or two would be okay, so I can join the conversation with chasers.
Now and then I catch sight of the truth that destruction of the old self leads to spiritual reclamation. Gentle breezes lifting layers of dust from my heart will never get the job done. I need a tornado. Like Elijah, I run into the Spirit’s vortex, spread my arms, and let him sweep me into union, heedless of the cost to my old self.
Prayer: Holy Spirit, I repent of hiding and peeking. Make me a chaser.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
… these are only the shadow of the things to come, but the reality is Christ. (Colossians 2:17)
Today, I received a postcard from heaven. Jesus sent it to remind me of his land and his love. The card came in the form of a four-year-old Fijian child who climbed onto my lap, pressed her blonde ringlets against my shoulder, and shared cuddle time. Only a God who is devoted to beauty and peace could have sent such a moment.
Jesus has sent postcards before. Periwinkle skies, levitating symphonies, double rainbows, and spiced mountain air—each one is a declaration of his penchant for life and goodness. While these blessings are glorious, they’re like postcards—flat cardboard facsimiles of the real joys waiting in heaven.
Imagine a cobalt glacial lake reflecting granite spires. We gape in awe as we rub our skin where the sun’s warmth penetrates the alpine chill. The adventurous among us seek an even greater union with the landscape, and go off to scale the peaks.
A heaven dweller would yawn, and say, “That’s nice, but you should see the real version in heaven.”
They’d take hold of the scene, and pull it open to a dimension we’ve never experienced. The lake would effervesce in colors we have yet to know, and the spires would gleam with a spiritual reality we only wonder about. And so it is with every postcard blessing we now enjoy. They’re low dimensional replicas of grander, truer, perfect realities that exist in heaven, away from the effects of sin. Oh, the glory that awaits the redeemed of Christ.
For now, we’re trapped behind enemy lines, groaning under the earth’s curses that come with rebellion against Jehovah. But we’re not without postcards. In fact, they arrive every day if we’ll watch for them.
Prayer: Dear Jesus, thank you for reminders of heaven and your love.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather from his kingdom everything that causes sin as well as all lawbreakers. (Matthew 13:41)
Our world merchandises in gray tones. Between black and white, every shade of impurity is available. The evil of hell swirls through the pure white of heaven.
In the next era, darkness and light will stand in obvious contrast.
The language of hell—Captive, Fear, Cursed, Lost, Deformed, Hate, False, Bitter, Scream, Ugly, Panic, Weep, Pain, Rejected, Blind, Guilt, Destruction, No.
The language of heaven—Free, Courage, Praise, Light, Dance, Beauty, Perfection, Rest, Laugh, Rainbow, Glory, Blessed, Accepted, Joy, Unity, Wisdom, Kiss, Yes.
With the gray removed, there’s no difficulty choosing sides. But life flings the clay pigeons of right and wrong like a trap machine gone berserk. I can’t keep up with the pace in deciding which ones to shoot down. My old nature confuses my trigger finger. I let bad choices fly, then gun down the truth by mistake.
This trap shoot is no game. Light and darkness are mortal enemies, and ground zero of the combat is in my heart. Get ready, here comes the first test of many today. Word by word, choice by choice—how will I fight? What eternal spoils will I gain this day? Will I choose black or white, curse or blessing, self-will or Jesus?
Prayer: Son of Man, help me win today’s battles.