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- Written by: Don Goulding
…because the accuser of our brothers and sisters,
the one who accuses them day and night before our God,
has been thrown down…
He is filled with terrible anger,
for he knows that he only has a little time!” (Revelation 12:10, 12)
A blast of orange and black fire roars on the right. Thunderous reverberations belch with steam from the left.
“They have sinned and cannot abide with the Perfect Presence. The ancient laws that judged me must also judge them,” a booming voice echoes.
If this were a scene in the Wizard of Oz, the dog, Toto, would pull back a curtain to reveal a false wizard—a little man pulling levers and shouting into a microphone.
Satan is a wizard without real power over those in Christ. He rants about the curse over us, and it sounds convincing amplified through the machinery of half-truth. In reality, it’s harmless smoke and levers. The danger has passed, because the accusations are without legal standing. For those who choose God, eternal pain and torture ended on the cross, when Jesus said it was finished. All that’s left are the ravings of a lunatic whose days are numbered.
When the false wizard blows hot air of all I’ve done wrong, I stop up my ears and hide behind Jesus. I don’t answer to guilt. Love is my master. When Love says his blood heals and makes me perfect, I listen.
The true King declares, “There’s no place like home. I want you to be here with me. Until that day, I’ll grant your requests for a new brain, a new heart, and courage.”
The one who welcomes me to paradise, and remakes me from top to bottom—that’s the only King I will listen to.
Prayer: Mighty Jesus, help me ignore the false wizard and hear only you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
And I — in righteousness I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness. (Psalms 17:15) (NIV)
I willed my life force past my face and lifted off the ground. Soaring above people, trees, and hills, a power line appeared. I gauged the obstruction’s height and pushed higher to let it pass beneath. But there were more wires. As I attempted to fly through the maze, my strength ebbed and I couldn’t stay above the tangle.
This is the reoccurring dream that has thrilled and frustrated me since childhood. It represents my joy at rising above earthly life through the Holy Spirit, but I can never overcome the obstructions of sinfulness.
The fact that we dream points to an enormous life in paradise, as though the concept of dreaming is a metaphor for temporal life. Dreams are mere garbled shadows of our waking hours, and this life only provides fragmented hints at what is to come. When I am sleeping, the dream seems real enough, just as earthly life feels like the genuine article. And yet, compared to the solidity of paradise, it’s a smattering of vaporous episodes.
The scale that measures wakefulness divides our sleepy fog into one thousand layers. As we progress upward, each stratum is thinner than the last. The bottom layer lies heavy against the ground when we’re in deep slumber. Our dream state hovers around the tenth layer, while our daily lives function at the hundredth layer. There are still nine hundred grades of wakefulness above us before we burst into the clarity of heaven.
One day Jesus will call my name, and I will wake. I will finally leave the entanglements of my old dreams about wires, and my earthly life, far below. I will continue to wake, rushing upward through nine hundred layers of alertness. Then, I will be satisfied with seeing his radiant face.
Prayer: Jesus, it’s sweet to dream of the moment when I’ll awake.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
If it is hard for the righteous to be saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner? (1 Peter 4:18) (NIV)
Kumar was raised in Hinduism, but his gods turned on him. I met him and his coffee-brown wife in Chennai, India. They wanted freedom from the evil spirit that was causing Kumar to fall into fits, lose his job, and beat his already suicidal bride.
I presented the cure of Christ and waited for their response. No one spoke. The humming ceiling fan pushed hot air around the office.
“Can we follow Christ, but pray to the gods with my parents?”
“Jesus would not have his followers bow to his enemies,” I said.
Kumar’s brow furrowed. If he went against his parents, with whom they lived, his family would shun them. Yet, he was desperate for relief. Husband and wife stared at the floor, as the cement of their situation hardened around them.
I’m astonished by how difficult it is to follow Jesus. My sacrifices are not as big as Kumar’s, but to me, they’re still huge. The prize, however, justifies the cost.
The prize is the glory that goes to God when a creature of free will chooses to pay a high price to honor him. Our God deserves much honor, therefore, the cost to follow is high.
Salvation is the simplest hard thing we’ll ever do. It’s simple to pray for forgiveness, but that prayer requires a repentant heart. That’s hard.
Are we willing to sacrifice before our God who sacrificed for us? Both Kumar and I have to answer, and end our days standing by our decision. The ceiling fan turns, and heaven awaits our reply.
Prayer: Your glory, O God, is my expensive prize.